Chapter 17: Mistress Kissy Tits' Video Call
The living room was dark, the blinds drawn against the afternoon sun. The only light came from the laptop screen on the coffee table, a rectangle of cool blue illumination that carved the space into stark planes and shadows. Akesha and Lily sat side-by-side on the floor, leaning against the leather couch, their knees touching.
“This one’s special,” Akesha said, her voice a low, conspiratorial hum. “It’s not for him. It’s for us.” She clicked a folder icon, then a file named ‘M_KT_Primer.m4v’.
The screen bloomed into life.
A woman appeared, seated in a plush velvet chair. She was older than Akesha, with a theatrical, polished beauty—full, theatrical makeup, lips a deep burgundy, hair cascading in dark waves. She wore a sheer black blouse that hinted at the curves beneath. The name ‘Mistress Kissy Tits’ floated in elegant script at the bottom of the frame.
“Hello, lovely girls,” the woman said. Her voice wasn’t like Mistress’s intellectual purr; it was warmer, richer, a honeyed contralto that seemed to vibrate in the chest. “Come close.Relax. Let your minds get soft for me.”
Lily felt an immediate, almost gravitational pull.She leaned forward.
The Mistress on screen smiled, a knowing, indulgent smile. “You’ve been working so hard. Playing your little games. Exercising your power. It’s thrilling, isn’t it? But it can be… taxing. All that thinking. All that directing.” She began to unbutton her blouse, one slow, deliberate button at a time. “Today, you don’t have to think. You don’t have to direct. Today, you just receive.”
The blouse fell open, revealing an expanse of creamy skin. Her hands, adorned with rings, moved to caress her own shoulders, then trailed down.
“You are good girls,” Mistress Kissy Tits murmured, her eyes locked on the camera. “Very good girls. And good girls deserve rewards. They deserve pretty things. They deserve fun.” Her hands cupped her breasts, lush and heavy, and gave them a gentle, rolling squeeze. The movement was hypnotic, a rhythmic, swaying pulse. “They deserve to feel beautiful. To feel adored. To be spoiled.”
Lily’s breath synchronized with the motion on screen. In, out. In, out. Her gaze fixed on the hypnotic sway.
“Daddy has money,” the voice continued, soft and persuasive. “Daddy has resources. He doesn’t need them. He’s a simple creature now. His purpose is to provide. Your purpose is to bloom.” She leaned forward slightly, the frame filling with the soft, generous curves. “Let that sink in. You are the flower. He is the soil. The soil doesn’t ask questions. It just feeds.”
Akesha, beside Lily, was also watching intently, but her expression was different—less entranced, more analytical. She was observing Lily’s absorption, her lips curving in a subtle smile of satisfaction.
“Open your minds,” Mistress Kissy Tits commanded, her tone gentle but absolute. “Let my words in. Let them replace the silly little worries. You are worthy of luxury. You are worthy of having your every whim fulfilled. Say it with me.”
Lily’s lips moved silently. I am worthy.
“Daddy’s credit card is just a tool. A key. A little plastic key to your own paradise. Using it isn’t selfish. It’s ecological. It’s the natural order.” The woman’s hands continued their slow, mesmerizing massage. “Think of the things you want. The dress that makes you feel like a queen. The perfume that makes you feel irresistible. The dinner where you laugh and feel light. Think of them. Now, feel the right to have them.”
A fantasy unfolded in Lily’s mind, vivid and immediate. A silk dress, emerald green. A bottle of fragrance with a crystal cap. A restaurant with sparkling lights and a menu full of things she couldn’t pronounce. The images felt not like wants, but like destinations.
“Your mind is soft now,” the Mistress said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper.“Open. Empty.Ready. When you close this screen, you will carry this feeling with you. You will carry this truth. You are a good girl. You deserve to spend Daddy’s money on yourself. It is your right. It is your pleasure.”
The video lingered on a final, close-up image of cleavage, the skin gleaming softly, before the screen faded to black.
The room was silent. The laptop’s fan whirred softly.
Lily blinked, her eyes feeling heavy, her mind pleasantly fogged. The worries about her part-time job, her student loans, her mother’s drama—they were distant, faint echoes behind a thick, velvet curtain. A new, clean clarity occupied the space: a right to pleasure.
Akesha reached over and closed the laptop. The room plunged into near darkness. She turned to Lily, her blue eyes catching the faint light from the fireplace pilot. “So. What do you want to buy?”
The question felt natural, inevitable. Lily didn’t hesitate. “That green dress I saw online.The slip one. And dinner. Somewhere… fancy. Where they bring the food on little carts.”
“Good,” Akesha said, nodding as if Lily had passed a test. “Specific. Excellent.” She stood up, stretching her arms overhead. “He’s at the grocery store now. Being useful. When he gets back, we’ll send him out again. With a different list.”
Lily stood too, her body feeling loose, agreeable. “What about you? What do you want?”
Akesha smiled, a flash of genuine, unguarded pleasure. “I want to watch you enjoy it. And I want a new phone. This one’s camera is shit.” She laughed, a light, musical sound that filled the dim room. “But first, we prep. We make it easy for him. We don’t ask; we instruct.”
They moved to the kitchen. Akesha pulled a notepad from a drawer, the one Julian used for grocery lists. She tore off a clean sheet.
“Okay,” she said, pen poised. “Green silk slip dress. From which site?”
Lily named it. Akesha wrote it down, then the specific product name. “Size?”
“Small.”
Akesha wrote it. “Dinner. Where?”
Lily named a restaurant she’d seen featured in a lifestyle magazine, a place with a tasting menu and a view of the city.
“Reservation for two, Friday at eight,” Akesha scribbled. “And the new phone.” She wrote the model, the color, the capacity. The list was concise, direct. A series of commands.
The front door clicked open.
Julian stepped into the hallway, carrying two bags of groceries. He paused, seeing them at the counter. His face was placid, the serene blankness from the morning still firmly in place.
“Perfect timing,” Akesha said, without looking up. “Put those away. Then come here.”
He obeyed, moving with methodical efficiency. Cans were shelved. Vegetables were stored in the crisper. Milk was placed in the refrigerator. He worked without a sound, a ghost in the kitchen. When the bags were empty, folded, and put away, he approached the counter.
Akesha held up the notepad. “New list.”
He took it. His eyes scanned the items.Dress. Dinner reservation.Phone. There was no flicker of calculation, of concern about cost. His brow didn’t furrow. He simply nodded.
“The dress is online. Use the desktop in the study. Use the joint card. The dinner—call them. Use your name, it still has clout. The phone—go to the store. Get it unlocked, today.”
“Yes,” Julian said. The word was an acceptance of a natural law.
“After you’ve ordered the dress and made the reservation,” Akesha continued, her tone casual, “you can kneel in the living room. While we wait for you to go get the phone.”
Lily watched, fascinated. The transaction was so clean. No negotiation.No emotion. Just instruction and compliance.
Julian turned and walked toward the study. The click of the door closing echoed softly.
Akesha turned to Lily, grinning.“See? Ecology. He performs his function. We perform ours.” She opened the refrigerator, pulled out a can of sparkling water, and popped it open. “Our function right now is to be fabulous. And to wait.”
They returned to the living room. Akesha turned on some music, something upbeat and electronic. She danced a little, a silly, shuffling dance, making Lily laugh. The heaviness from the video was still there, but it had transformed into a giddy lightness. The right to pleasure felt like a bubble floating in her chest.
About ten minutes later, Julian emerged from the study. He walked to the center of the living room, where the morning sunbeam had been, and knelt. His posture was perfect, head bowed, hands resting on his thighs. A statue of obedience.
Akesha stopped dancing. She looked at him, then at Lily. “Your turn,” she said softly.
Lily understood. She walked over to Julian, stopping a few feet before him. She looked down at the man, her father, kneeling in the patch of carpet. The drone state. The clean, well-lit room. She felt a surge of the power from yesterday, but now it was tempered with something else—a sense of responsibility, of stewardship. He was their resource. She was a curator.
“You’ve done well,” she said, her voice finding that flat, authoritative tone again. “You’re making things easy.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t move.
“You may go and get the phone now,” she said.
He rose, smoothly, and walked to the front door. He put on his shoes, took the keys from the hook, and left without a word. The house was quiet again, save for the pulsing music.
Akesha came over and slung an arm around Lily’s shoulder. “You’re getting the hang of the tone. It’s not about being mean. It’s about being… inevitable.”
Lily leaned into the casual embrace. “It feels inevitable.”
“That’s because it is,” Akesha said, her gaze drifting to the window where Julian’s car had just pulled away. “The video wasn’t just for fun. It was a… system update. For both of us. It aligns our desires with the system’s logic.No guilt. No friction. Just flow.”
They waited. The afternoon sun shifted, casting longer shadows. Akesha ordered pizza on her phone, using the joint account again. “Fuel,” she said.
When Julian returned, he carried a small, sleek box. He placed it on the kitchen counter, then resumed his position kneeling in the living room, awaiting further instruction.
Akesha inspected the phone, her fingers flying over the screen as she set it up. “Good,” she murmured. “Fast. Lots of storage.” She looked at Lily. “Your dress shipped. Priority. Reservation’s confirmed for Friday. Eight PM.”
The facts landed with a quiet, thrilling finality. It was done. The mechanisms had worked without a single hitch.
Akesha tossed the old phone into a drawer. She picked up the new one, its screen a dark mirror. “Okay,” she said, walking over to Julian. She stood before him, holding the phone up. “Look.”
He raised his eyes to the screen.
She opened the camera app. She switched it to video mode. “This is a record of your function,” she said, her voice calm, documentary. “A receipt of service.” She pressed record. The red dot glowed. “State your name and your purpose.”
Julian looked at the lens. His expression remained blank, serene. “Julian Croft,” he said. “My purpose is to provide.”
Akesha smiled, a sharp, beautiful smile. She panned the camera slowly down his kneeling form, then back to his face. “Good,” she said, and stopped the recording. “Archive that.”
She put the phone down and knelt in front of him, close enough that their knees almost touched. Her expression shifted from playful to intensely serious. “Listen,” she said. “The divorce is moving.Margaret is gone. Lily is here. The structure is set. Your old life is over.”
He nodded.
“This weekend,” she continued, her blue eyes holding his, “we consolidate. We move you out of the master bedroom. You will sleep in the guest room. It’s smaller. It’s appropriate. Lily will take the master with me.”
A tiny muscle in Julian’s jaw twitched, then relaxed. “Yes.”
“Your salary, your accounts, everything—they will be managed. You will have access to what you need for your basic functions. The rest is ours. For our development. For our comfort.”
“Yes.”
“Your thinking mind is a tool we will use when needed. For teaching. For writing, if we require it. Otherwise, it is to remain quiet. Your primary mind is the one that hears, obeys, and provides. Is this understood?”
He didn’t blink. “It is understood.”
Akesha reached out and patted his cheek, twice, firmly. “Good boy.” She stood up, the session concluded. “You can make the pizza. Plate it. Then you may eat, in the kitchen.”
Julian rose and moved to the oven, his movements automatic. The smell of melted cheese and baking dough soon filled the house.
Lily watched him, then looked at Akesha, who was now lounging on the couch, scrolling through her new phone. The hierarchy was visible, tangible. She was part of it. She was above him.
Akesha glanced up, catching Lily’s look. “What?”
“It’s just…” Lily searched for the word. “Complete.”
Akesha nodded, satisfied. “It’s just starting.” She turned the phone screen toward Lily. On it was a website, a forum with a minimalist design. The header read: ‘The Garden.’ “Our next system update,” Akesha said. “For us. To learn how to tend our resource properly. To optimize his… yield.”
Lily looked at the kneading figure in the kitchen, then at the glowing screen. The path forward wasn’t a question. It was an itinerary. She sat down beside Akesha, ready to study.
The forum loaded, a minimalist expanse of muted grays and soft greens. Thread titles were stark, devoid of metaphor: "Resource Fatigue Management," "Protocols for Incentive-based Compliance," "Cognitive Dissonance in Early-Stage Acquisition."
"See?" Akesha whispered, scrolling. "It’s a manual. All the stuff I had to figure out on my own."
Lily leaned in, reading a bulleted list about establishing "non-negotiable provisioning channels." The clinical language sanitized everything, turning her father into a set of operational parameters. It was horrible. It was fascinating. Her heart thumped a quick, irregular rhythm against her ribs.
"Here," Akesha tapped a thread titled "Environmental Repatterning for Deep-Set Subjects." "This is the weekend plan. Guest room conversion. We strip it of anything that signifies his old identity. Books,degrees, the ugly golf trophies. We make it... neutral."
"Where do we put it all?" Lily asked, her voice soft.
"The basement. In boxes. He'll help us carry it down. He’ll be archiving his own history." Akesha’s smile was a brief, bright flash. "Ecology."
From the kitchen, the timer beeped. Julian moved, extracting the pizza, slicing it with precise, economical motions. He plated three slices on a single plate, placed it on the counter, and returned to his knees in the living room, awaiting permission.
Akesha didn’t look up from the screen. "You may eat."
He stood, collected the plate, and sat at the small breakfast nook. He ate slowly, chewing each bite twenty times, his gaze fixed on the blank wall. The silence from his corner was a living thing.
Lily forced her attention back to the forum. A user named ‘Cultivatrix’ detailed a "symbolic transfer of authority" involving personal hygiene items. "You control the toothpaste," she read aloud, a disbelieving laugh caught in her throat. "Seriously?"
"It’s about totality," Akesha said, her focus absolute. "It’s about the substrate—his mind—receiving consistent, unambiguous data. From where he sleeps to what he uses to brush his teeth. No variable should contradict the core command: You belong to us."
They read for an hour, the only sounds the hum of the fridge, Julian’s methodical chewing, and the soft tap of Akesha’s thumb on the glass screen. The sun dipped lower, staining the room orange and long shadow.
Finally, Akesha set the phone down. "Enough theory." She stood and walked over to Julian, who had finished eating and returned to his kneel. "Stand up."
He rose.
"Follow me."
She led him down the hall to the master bedroom, Lily trailing behind. The room still smelled of Margaret’s perfume, a faint ghost of jasmine and disappointment. Akesha went to the walk-in closet, to Julian’s side. She began pulling his suits from the rack, the fine wools and crisp linens slipping from the hangers into a heap on the floor.
"These go to the guest room closet. One trip."
Julian gathered the armful of fabric, his face buried in the familiar scent of old money and faculty meetings. He left without a word.
"Now the dresser," Akesha said to Lily, pulling open the top drawer. It was full of his meticulous socks, rolled and arranged by color. They dumped them into a laundry basket.
Julian returned for a second load, then a third. He moved his own belongings from the spacious master to the cramped, south-facing guest room with the efficiency of a furniture removals van. He did not pause. He did not question.
When his side of the closet and dresser were empty, Akesha surveyed the blank space. "Good. Now, our stuff."
They went to Lily’s old room and the guest room where Akesha had been staying, collecting armfuls of their clothes—soft jeans, silky tops, sundresses, the newfound green slip dress still in its mailing envelope. They carried them into the master bedroom and began filling the spaces he had vacated.
Lily hung a blouse next to one of Akesha’s dresses. The fabrics sighed together, mingling. The closet was now a tapestry of them. It felt like a claim, deeper than the credit card purchases.
Julian stood in the doorway, watching, his hands at his sides.
"Your toiletries," Akesha said, not turning around. "From the master bath. To the guest bath. Now."
He obeyed.
The final act was the bed. Together, they stripped the king-sized mattress of its plain, navy sheets. Akesha produced a set she’d ordered, slick black satin with a high thread count. They made the bed, the fabric slithering and shining under their hands.
"Lie down," Akesha commanded Julian when he returned.
He looked at the bed, a flicker of something—memory, perhaps—moving behind his eyes like a fish in deep water. Then it was gone. He lay down on his back atop the black satin comforter, stiff, awkward amidst the feminine transformation.
"Not there," Akesha corrected, her voice light. "At the foot. Sideways. Like a bolster."
He shifted, arranging himself at the foot of the bed, curled slightly, his head resting on his arm. He looked like an accessory, a piece of living furniture placed for convenience.
Akesha climbed onto the bed, settling against the headboard with a sigh of contentment. She patted the space beside her. "Lily. Come on. Test the new ecology."
Lily climbed up, the satin cool and strange beneath her. She leaned back. From this angle, Julian was just a shape at the edge of her vision, a still, quiet form. The authority in the room had physically shifted, flowing uphill to the head of the bed.
Akesha picked up her new phone. "Let’s see what’s for delivery." She scrolled, then nudged Lily. "Oh. They have that chocolate tart from that place downtown. The stupidly expensive one."
"Might as well," Lily said, and the words felt scripted, perfect. "We should celebrate the new arrangements."
"Jules?" Akesha said, her voice sweet. "We’d like the chocolate tart. From Artisan. Use the card on file."
He began to move, uncurling from the bed.
"Wait," Lily said. The word came out before she knew why. He froze. She looked at Akesha. "Should he… call? Or should he go get it? In person."
Akesha’s eyebrows raised, impressed. "In person. Of course. The wait, the drive, the interaction where he states the order is for his daughter… more data. Yes. Go get it. Bring it back. Kneel in the kitchen until we’re ready."
Julian stood, adjusted his rumpled shirt, and left. The front door closed with a soft, definitive click.
The silence he left behind was different. It buzzed with potential.
"See how you’re thinking?" Akesha said, smiling. "You’re optimizing."
Lily hugged a pillow to her chest. "It feels… normal. That’s the weird part."
"It is normal. For this house. For now." Akesha stretched. "We need to deepen it, though. The forum talks about ritual. To cement the repatteraning. Before the divorce finalizes and the outside world tries to poke its nose in."
"What kind of ritual?"
"Something simple. Something he’ll understand at a level below thinking." Akesha’s gaze grew distant, planning. "When he gets back with the tart. We’ll have him kneel in the center of the living room. We’ll each give him one clear, direct command. A test of parallel authority. He has to obey both, immediately, switching seamlessly between masters. It proves his substrate is fully formatted."
Lily’s mouth went dry. "What commands?"
"We’ll think of something." Akesha’s eyes glinted. "Lighthearted. But clear."
Twenty minutes later, the headlights of Julian’s car washed across the front window. He entered, carrying a small, ornate white box tied with a gold string. He placed it on the kitchen counter and, without prompting, walked to the center of the living room and knelt.
Akesha and Lily rose from the bed and walked out to stand before him. He looked up, his face a placid moon in the dim room.
"Okay, Jules," Akesha said, her tone conversational. "This is easy. We’re both going to ask you for something. You’ll do both. Quickly. No hesitation." She glanced at Lily, a silent cue.
Lily’s mind raced, then snatched the first simple, physical thing she could think of. Her voice, when it came, was firm. "Unbutton your shirt."
At the same instant, Akesha spoke, her command overlapping Lily’s. "Crawl to the fireplace."
For a single, suspended second, he was perfectly still. His hands didn’t move towards his buttons. His knees didn’t shift towards the hearth.
Then the programming engaged.
His right hand flew to the top button of his shirt, fingers working with rapid, clumsy precision. Simultaneously, he dropped forward onto his hands and knees, his left arm propelling him in a jerking, uncoordinated lurch toward the stone fireplace. He was a broken puppet with two sets of strings, unbuttoning as he crawled, each action interfering with the other but never stopping.
Button. Drag. Button. Drag.
He reached the hearth, his shirt hanging open, exposing his thin, vulnerable chest. He knelt back on his haunches, breathing slightly faster, his task complete. His eyes were wide, blank, awaiting the next input.
Akesha let out a low, delighted chuckle. "Beautiful. Seamless CPU allocation." She walked over and looked down at him. "You obeyed completely. Both of us. You didn’t question. You didn’t falter."
He blinked, a slow, mechanical shutter-click.
"That’s your place now," Lily said, the reality of it settling into her bones like cold iron. "That’s your function."
Akesha knelt in front of him, bringing her face level with his. She held up a single finger. "Listen. This is the last command for tonight. The core command. It runs underneath everything else, forever. You will obey Lily and me completely. In all things. Your will is ours. Do you understand this?"
His eyes fixed on hers. The internal struggle was invisible, swift, and total. The last crumbling wall of Professor Julian Croft silently fell into dust.
"Yes," he breathed.
"Say it."
"I will obey you both completely."
"Good." She stood. "Now go to your room. Sleep. You’ve provided well today."
He rose, clumsily re-buttoning his shirt as he walked down the dark hallway. The guest room door closed with a quiet, final sound.
Akesha turned, her face triumphant in the low light. She went to the kitchen, untied the gold string, and opened the white box. The tart inside gleamed, dark and glossy. She broke off a piece with her fingers and ate it, closing her eyes. "Perfect."
Lily took a piece. The chocolate was profoundly rich, bitter and sweet. It tasted like victory. It tasted like a door locking shut.
From down the hall, in the small, barren room, there was no sound at all. He was already asleep, or simply lying in the dark, running his new core command on a continuous, silent loop. They had updated the system. The installation was complete.