Epilog II – The Patriarch’s Gift

POV: Garrett

Havenridge University’s council chamber no longer resembled the brittle arena of slogans it had been a year ago. The banners were gone, the chants silenced. In their place sat four professors—renowned WOC in the humanities, academics whose reputations drew students in droves. Their words carried polish, but their loyalty was absolute.

For administration, too, everything had been reshaped. Farida and Leila were long gone; efficient, faceless women had replaced them. Their résumés gleamed, their loyalty unquestionable. The chamber was no longer a debating hall but a sanctum of obedience.

Simone stood at the head of the table, radiant in her winter dress, one hand resting lightly on the gentle swell of pregnancy.

“After the Christmas break, I will step back,” she announced, her voice calm, commanding. “The pregnancy requires it.”

Applause followed—measured, reverent.

“In the meantime,” she continued, “Professor Hale will serve as interim president.”

Everyone knew the truth: Garrett had been running the university for months already. Ji, precise as always, cut through the murmurs with surgical ease.

“Interim in title only. Every decision already runs through him.”

There was laughter, thin and eager. One professor managed a strained smile. “We’ll have to break it gently to the media. A white man in this chair—it has not happened in decades.”

Garrett remained silent. One glance from him quieted the room more effectively than words.

Simone pressed on. “From the summer semester, men will again be admitted. The humanities remain central, but unserious degrees are gone. Standards are restored.”

One of the professors leaned forward quickly. “The new faculty appointments—our backgrounds attract talent and funds. The humanities are reborn, on a higher level. All aligned. All loyal.”

Simone inclined her head. The point was made. The meeting ended in applause, precise and submissive.

---

When Garrett entered his office with Simone at his side and Ji close behind, Maria was already waiting on the carpet. The moment she saw him, she dropped, crawling forward like an animal **** to please.

“Papi—please. Let me serve.”

Garrett unzipped without a word.

Her mouth engulfed him in one motion, gagging, drool spilling down her chin. Before she could find a rhythm, Simone’s hand seized her hair. With calm cruelty, she **** Maria lower, controlling her head, pressing until her throat convulsed. Maria clawed at the rug, ****, but Simone only smiled, her eyes fixed proudly on her husband.

Ji opened her clipboard, speaking over the wet gurgles echoing in the office.

“White Voice is operational. The program equips selected white women and men with **** tonal triggers. Their speech itself becomes hypnosis. Every cadence, every phrase bends POC minds. Eli was the first. The prototype. Proof of concept.”

Garrett leaned back, expression unreadable. Maria gagged harder as Simone drove her down again.

Ji continued, unflinching. “The second program, Colored Devotion, spreads through curriculum. It hollows resistance. Students and professors of color become docile—emotionally muted, compliant, accepting of the natural order.”

Simone chuckled quietly, forcing Maria’s face tighter to her husband.

“To distribute both programs,” Ji went on, “Octavia and Amita have founded the Harmony Initiative for Education & Equity. HIEE acquires universities, securing faculties and infrastructure. Ownership opens the door. Once inside, the programs spread without resistance.”

She took a measured breath. “In parallel, White Life Matters, under Amara’s leadership, funnels white applicants into these institutions. Many already fitted with White Voice. They enroll as students but act as your first Brotherhood agents. Every rule you set becomes doctrine in their mouths.”

For a moment there was only Maria ****, Simone’s grip unrelenting.

Then Simone spoke, soft but fierce. “The whole Thomas family is in the business now. Octavia and Amita at HIEE. Amara with her movement. Even Nia—our bratty little queen bee—spreading your way in the dorms. All of them serving.”

Her tone shifted, glowing with pride. “But Lexi… Lexi is my firstborn. Not by blood, but by truth. She is the youngest CEO among Calvessia’s hundred giants. Her face on every cover, her name in every circle of power. And she carries your heir even as she builds her empire. She is proof of everything you’ve made us.”

Garrett’s smirk curved slowly. “By spring, the first partners of the Brotherhood will stand beside me.”

Simone **** Maria’s head lower until her throat spasmed. Garrett groaned, spilling across her face.

“Yes,” Ji whispered, trembling slightly. “By spring, it begins.”

Garrett zipped, shoved Maria aside like refuse.

Maria collapsed to the floor, sobbing with joy. “Thank you, Papi,” she whimpered, licking greedily at the mess on her cheeks and the carpet. “Thank you for using me.”

Garrett didn’t even glance down. “We’re going home.”

---

The Hale estate had become a temple of obedience.

Farida met him at the door, immaculate in her uniform, posture rigid, eyes down. She murmured his title like a prayer.

Then came the scuffle of paws.

Honeytail, Sugarpup, and Sparky bounded forward on all fours, tails wagging wildly, tongues lolling. But Sparky—the mother—looked transformed. Where once her eyes had been hollow, now they shone with bliss. Crawling beside her daughters, licking and whining at Garrett’s boots, she looked fulfilled, radiant in her degradation.

Then Nia appeared. His bratty princess.

She ran into his arms, clung to him, kissed him hungrily. “Daddy… please. Tonight. I need you.”

He brushed her cheek with a thumb, indulgent but unmoved. “We’ll see.”

She pouted, whining softly, eyes shimmering with bratty devotion.

Simone followed, serene, queenly. “Later, love. Tonight I’ve prepared something.”

Dinner unfolded with ceremonial stillness. Garrett sat at the head, Simone at his right, Nia at his left. She clung to his arm, giggling, shining with bratty energy. But midway through the meal she excused herself suddenly, murmuring about preparing something special for him. She kissed his cheek and slipped away.

The house grew quiet, heavy with anticipation. Only the faint clink of cutlery remained.

Simone leaned closer, her voice low, conspiratorial. “I need you to wait,” she whispered. “Half an hour. Then go down to the basement. Everything will be ready.”

Garrett studied her, one brow raised.

Her lips curled slowly, proud and dangerous. “You’ve worked so hard, my love. White Voice. Colored Devotion. The Brotherhood. The university. And now Christmas—you must play patriarch before the world. Tonight, though—you rest. Tonight, you only take.”

---

The half hour passed in silence. Garrett rose alone.

He walked the stone corridor beneath the estate, each step echoing like judgment. At the end waited the heavy oak door. He pressed it open, the hinges groaning.

The basement was warm already, the air heavy with candle wax and sweat. They knelt in silence, blindfolds drawn tight, gags pulled deep into their mouths, headphones sealing their ears. On their knees, backs straight, their chests rose and fell in tiny tremors, but they could neither see nor hear. They did not even know he was there.

Garrett stood before them, hands folded behind his back, savoring the sight. Every body was restrained, every hole denied, every sense dulled. They had been left like this for hours, simmering in helpless anticipation.

Simone reclined in her high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other, radiant and cruel. She smiled as he watched them. “I tuned them for you,” she said, her voice like silk stretched over steel. “Blind, deaf, gagged… their skin primed, their nerves raw. They feel everything now. The smallest touch will break them. I wanted them like this, waiting.”

She rose slightly and pointed. “And look closer. Each of them… I gave them a wish.”

Garrett’s smirk deepened as his gaze dropped. Thick black marker scrawled across trembling flesh. He moved down the line slowly, savoring every word.

On Ji’s chest: Happy to Assist. Neat, tidy, written like a brand.

On Farida’s stomach: Happy to Serve. Clear, orderly, as if she’d bowed while it was written.

On Zuleika’s ribs: Punish Me. The letters jagged, already trembling from the memory of the marker’s bite.

On Nia’s breasts: Breed Me. Messy, scrawled in the brat’s own hand, ****.

And on Maria—he barked a laugh. Across her chest, crooked, clumsy letters screamed Fuk Me Papi.

He turned to Simone, eyes gleaming. “She couldn’t even spell it.”

Simone’s laugh rang like a bell. “She insisted. I corrected her, but she whined, begged, said it had to look the way she felt it. Pathetic.”

Garrett chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Stupid bitch. Perfect toy.”

Simone leaned forward, her eyes burning. “This is yours. Every body. Every scream. You’ve earned it, my love. You deserve everything you see here.”

Garrett stepped back, surveying them all—their stillness, their trembling silence, the black words glowing like brands. He had conquered this. He had built it.

“Pets,” he commanded.

The word cracked the silence. Honeytail, Sugarpup, and Sparky scrambled forward on all fours, tails wagging, tongues out, their collars gleaming in the candlelight. They pressed against his legs, licking his boots, whining, **** for use.

“On Simone.”

Instantly they obeyed, crawling to their queen. They pressed between her thighs, tongues working, muzzles nuzzling against her skin. Simone gasped at the first contact, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. Her head fell back, her eyes locked on Garrett as the pets worshiped her like an altar.

Garrett smirked. “Good dogs. Show her what her husband owns.”

He turned to Zuleika. The taser wand crackled as he powered it on. Sparks lit the air, sharp and vicious. He crouched before her, yanked her blindfold off, and her eyes rolled in terror and relief. She thrashed against her bonds, gag muffling her screams.

Garrett tore the gag free. “Scream for me.”

The first shock slammed into her skin. She shrieked, her body arching, muscles convulsing, tears flying from her eyes. He pressed it again, harder, moving the current over trembling flesh. Her sobs twisted into laughter, then back into screams.

“Thank you, Master!” she howled. “More—please—more!”

He gave it. Again and again. He paused just long enough for her to sag, then hit her again, jolting her into another orgasmic spasm. Her cries filled the chamber, mixing with Simone’s gasps above, the pets still working at her thighs.

Garrett grinned. This was music. This was his orchestra.

“Ji. Farida.”

The two shuffled forward on their leashes, still blindfolded, gagged, sealed in silence. Garrett unclipped their headphones, ripped the gags away, tore off their blindfolds. Their eyes widened at the sudden sight of him, their Master towering above.

“On your knees.”

They collapsed instantly, faces tilted up, tears already running from the shock of his presence.

“Prepare me.”

They surged forward. Ji’s mouth closed around him with practiced precision, Farida’s tongue pressed lower, every motion reverent. They worked in tandem, moaning as if the act itself **** climax after climax through their bodies. Their hands trembled, their thighs shook, but they did not stop.

Garrett sat back on the throne-like bench, letting them serve. His groans joined Zuleika’s screams and Simone’s gasps. His kingdom, alive and writhing for him.

When he finished, he covered their faces, marking them both. “Clean,” he ordered coldly. They turned to each other without hesitation, licking, swallowing, trembling in gratitude.

He rose, seized Maria and Nia by their leashes, and dragged them to the bed. He stripped their blindfolds and gags, tearing away the last barriers. They blinked at him, eyes wide, lips already spilling frantic pleas.

“Which of you deserves me first?” he asked.

Chaos erupted.

Nia whined like the brat she was, her voice high and trembling. “Me, Daddy—please! I’ll be good this time, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want. Breed me, please—make me your babygirl forever. I’ll carry your baby, Daddy, I’ll give you what you want, just don’t choose her over me!”

Maria giggled through drool, bouncing and clapping her hands. “No, Papi, me! Look at my tits, they’re perfect, I’ll make you feel so good. I can spell it right now, f-u-c-k me, see? Please, use me—make me yours, make me pregnant if you want, I’ll do anything, Papi!”

Their voices overlapped, **** and shrill, each trying to drown out the other.

“I’m your princess,” Nia sobbed, tears streaking her cheeks. “Please, Daddy, I’ll wait, I’ll beg every day until you give me your baby. Just use me now—don’t make me suffer!”

Maria’s voice cracked into laughter and sobs. “Don’t waste it on her, Papi, she’s selfish! I’m stupid, I don’t care, I just want you. Put your baby in me, or don’t—just use me however you like, I’ll thank you for anything!”

Garrett let them fight, let them debase themselves with promises of wombs and obedience, until he seized Nia by the throat.

“You win, Babygirl,” he growled. Her eyes lit with joy—then he crushed it. “But not my baby. Not until after the university. You’ll wait.”

Her face crumpled, bratty sobs shaking her chest. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll wait—I’ll be good—I promise. Just take me, please—please—”

He shoved her down, her cries twisting into gasping moans as he finally gave her what she wanted.

Maria wasn’t spared. “Use those tits, whore,” he barked. She obeyed instantly, pressing her breasts around him, slobbering, laughing idiotically through her tears, babbling, “Thank you, Papi, thank you! Make me stupid, make me yours!”—happy just to be allowed near him.

The chamber dissolved into chaos.

Ji and Farida knelt together, still cleaning each other in endless loops of gratitude.

Zuleika convulsed under the taser, body striped with red, screaming thanks as shocks tore orgasm after orgasm through her.

Simone writhed in her chair, pets lapping at her thighs, her eyes locked on her husband as his dynasty fell apart for him.

Nia sobbed and squealed beneath him, bratty voice cracking as he filled her.

Maria clung to him, drooling, giggling, bouncing like a child, worshiping with her idiot devotion.

When it was over, the room lay wrecked. Bodies sprawled, trembling, dripping, smiling, broken. Simone glowed, her lips parted, eyes burning with pride. The pets whimpered at Garrett’s legs, licking him clean like dogs at a feast.

Garrett zipped his trousers slowly. He looked at Simone, then at the chaos he had made.

“This,” he said, his voice low and absolute, “is no family. This is my dynasty.”

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Author’s Note

With 59.57%, Amara’s fate THE DEVOTED ACTIVIST won. We will explore this path in more depth soon, and I hope it will meet the taste of the readers. Many had wished for the heavy option Double Agent, but I am honestly very pleased with this result as well. I believe Amara, as a kind of pied piper, will serve wonderfully in this role, and I am glad for her that she has found peace with herself here.

This was also, without question, one of my favorite sex scenes in the entire story.

And as with this chapter, the same note applies regarding the Images Like in the last chapter.

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