To set everything up and to make sure Samuel’s full plan would go off without a hitch took about a week. Eliana and Cindy and Kenza spearheaded the effort, being so effortlessly gorgeous and charismatic. Men tended to change their minds after just a few minutes in a room with them.

After a day or so, when Hannah came around and had been properly re-brainwashed to worship a Real Man like she should, she was able to help as well.

They were gathered at the Town Hall. It was an old building in the new town—the first structure they had built. The first slaves had been made here, using the building’s substantial power source to rewrite their neurons from scratch. Part of the genius of Samuel’s upgrades to the helmet device was its portability.

They were inside the main conference hall, the only place with enough space for everyone. A gorgeous line of girls stood behind every man, some with more than others. In all, there were close to forty men at the table and nearly one hundred girls behind them. It would have been crowded, except that the women were so thin and so willing to stand perfectly still. They smiled prettily, emptily, looking straight ahead and waiting for their Man to give them an order—any order at all. Each one wore luxurious, sexy clothes—daring dresses, clingy skirts, tall heels. Some with long gloves, some with short gloves, some with hats and some with collars. Some barely wore any clothing at all—outfitted in lingerie. Some wore heavy, distinct fur coats and had their hair blown out like they were ready for a night at a gala. Each woman was distinct and yet the same—all were utterly mindfucked by the same device. Everyone here had benefited directly from Samuel’s vision.

The men, on the other hand, were not dressed so carefully. Power affected them in many ways. Some tried to look the part with sharp suits or expensive clothes. But most barely put in the effort—golf shirts and khakis mostly, with several more in jeans or even jorts.

Samuel entered with Cindy and Kenza on one arm, and Eliana on the other. They were all resplendent. Each wore shimmering evening gowns—Cindy in red, Kenza in blue, and Eliana in silvery white. Their heels wrapped up to their ankles—six-inch stilettos without platforms which had their toes reaching almost straight down. They wore long matching evening gloves that clung to their slender arms far above the elbows, their hair wavy and parted elaborately to one side.

“I’m glad you all decided to come here today.”

“Decided,” snorted one man derisively. This was Mr. Cartwright. Overweight and with a drunk’s red nose; one of the ones with the decency to wear a suit, which in the mob mentality of the gathered controllers made him more of a leader than most. “As if we had a choice. You threatened our accounts! Our access to our clientele! How did you even get that access anyway?”

“Mr. Striker is gone,” Samuel explained. “I’m taking over for him. More or less.” He smiled. “Well, more, to be truthful. I’m expanding the role Striker had. He took several steps back over the past few years. Letting this organization become more democratic.”

“It was the plan all along,” said Cartwright. “It had to be autocratic for a while, but democracy was always the goal. I don’t understand—”

“Expanding like that made him vulnerable.” Samuel spoke as if Cartwright hadn’t. “It exposed him. It made him feel safe. But there is no safety in the decisions of others. I’m in charge now. I’m in control. This organization, this town, this business, now belongs to me. Your accounts belong to me. Your income belongs to me. I will be distributing it as I see fit.”

There was an uproar. Several men stood up and began to walk threateningly toward Samuel.

“Come now!” cried Cartwright. “How do we know you’re even telling the truth?”

“You haven’t been able to access your work accounts for days now. Everyone has been so confused. ‘What’s happening? Is it coming down? Are the Feds finally cracking down?’ All of that. I read your messages. I know what all of you are thinking.”

“You’re saying Striker left it all to you? Why would he do that? He didn’t even like you.”

“Striker didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Samuel explained. “He’s done.”

There was another outroar, but this one was quiet. Concerned. The men talked anxiously among themselves.

“You’re saying Striker is out of the picture,” said Cartwright. “Do you have any proof of that?”

In response, Samuel snapped his fingers.

Hannah walked in, glamourous and goddess-like. Even Eliana gasped for a moment, even though she was the one who had helped do Hannah’s hair.

Her gown was pure white—a wedding gown. The trail was nineteen feet long. The neckline ran deep down to her waist, her gorgeous tits pressing together in that perfect hot cleavage way by what seemed to be some combination of stretchy fabric and magic. Brenda, smiling her empty dumb smile, carried Hannah’s dress train with pride.

She wrapped her arms around Samuel’s neck and stared at him with deep love in her eyes. 

“You’re my whole life, Daddy.” Her voice carrying all that perfect arrogance in such a sweet-sounding package. “I never loved that old bag. He was such a bore. And he was ugly, too. But you’re a real Man. My real God. I adore you, Master. Only you. You’re the only one I love.”

His hand crawled all the way up into her ass as they kissed. Gripping her there hard. The room was silent for them. The men not daring to speak. The women all looking on with their attention captured, their queen guiding their gaze.

Samuel ended the kiss—saliva trailing from Hannah’s lips and landing in her sumptuous cleavage—and turned back to the table of men.

“I know you’re going to say that proves nothing. A trick, maybe. So.”

He bent her over on the table and unbuckled his pants. Cindy and Eliana and Kenza helped with pushing up Hannah’s long, complicated dress and exposing her gorgeously tight rump and the swollen, wet folds of her pussy.

Samuel was hard already. Eliana orgasmed at the sight of his cock like she always did, leaning in hard on his arm and popping her foot in the air. On the other side of Samuel, his other arm, Cindy did the same. Kenza, behind him, mirrored them, and silently came and came again while she urged Samuel forward into Hannah’s pristine waiting cunt.

Samuel hadn’t fucked Hannah yet—he’d only fucked her mind. Made her obsessed with his cock, with THE Cock. She experienced an eternity waiting for today. Cindy and Kenza and Hannah had traded turns licking her to calm her down from time to time.

Samuel had been waiting for this very moment—to drive his point home.

Oh yes—she had experienced his Cock some. She had sucked it, stroked it, touched it, even ground the delectable parts of her body against it while he fucked her bone structure at will.

But he hadn’t been inside her pussy.

Not like now.

For years in this town, Hannah had been the status symbol of everything Elysian.

Now there was no Elysian, no Magnus, no Prime. Now there was only Samuel and those who served him.

“There has been too much confusion in this place,” said Samuel, sliding the head of his Cock just atop Hannah’s pulsating pussy. It squirmed so much that the folds almost swallowed the tip without him pushing forward. “All these different strata. Different classes. This man can have so many wives, and this other man gets these many. It’s too much. It’s silly, honestly. There’s only one thing that matters here, and that’s power and how it’s shown and divided. And I will tell you, gentlemen, that I have all the power, and I do not want to divide it. Not at all.”

Hannah squealed with delight under Samuel just feeling the heat of his Cock head and the spurting of his precum against her folds.

“Fuck her,” Cindy moaned.

“Fuck all of them.” Eliana bit his ear. Unable to stop herself. “Fuck this whole town, darling. Do it!”

Kissing Eliana deeply—his true partner—he entered inside of Hannah. Hannah was gorgeous—inimitably so. She could have been a model herself. But Eliana’s Husband chose to kiss Eliana as he fucked her gorgeous body for the first time—as he claimed the town for himself—to make a point.

Eliana was his True Partner.

She came knowing this, so excited with her status, as he thrust inside of Hannah at rapid pace, encouraging several small orgasms to quake through Hannah’s body. This wasn’t about making love or some glorious passionate display. This was about fucking Hannah up. It was about fucking her to prove a point.

Hannah banged the table with her fists, moaning about how big he was, screaming that it was too much for her and begging for him to never stop.

For a little while, the men just watched, stunned into silence. They didn’t notice the women behind them and the way they looked at nothing else but Samuel and Hannah and Eliana.

“I don’t understand,” one man blubbered. “We’ve been working well with each other. We’re rich and we get all the hot, obedient pussy we want. You could have that! You can be Elysian, for chrissake! I don’t think any of us will complain if you’re just in charge of how things used to work!”

There was a chorus of agreement.

“You don’t understand,” said Samuel. Heavy breathing.. “I want it all. So I’m going to have it all, and that’s it.”

Cartwright stood up and slammed his fist down on the table. “Do you really think we’ll just stand for this? This display you’re putting on? What makes you think we’re just going to sit here?”

Samuel smirked. He began to speed up his thrusts once again. The finale was coming.

“I don’t really think you’ll have a choice.”

He nodded, and this time it was Eliana’s turn to snap her fingers. Acting in unison, all the slave women present pulsed forward. Some of them held the men in place, some of them put the headsets on their heads. The power turned all the way up, lights pulsing and spinning.

These women had been the wives of their respective husbands for quite a long while. The one with the shortest tenure had still been with her man for over six months.

Eliana, Cindy, Kenza, and Hannah had spent the last week brainwashing them in private. Going to the gyms, to cheerleader practices, to book clubs and grocery stores to mindfuck them one by one with Samuel’s special headset.

They did their job perfectly, just like Good Wives should.

These men had never even seen their women so much as speak out of turn. And now—mind-controlled by someone stronger and better and sexier than them—they were completely fucked over by their newly-brainwashed wives.

The whole process—from snap to headsets to skulldrain—lasted less than ten seconds.

All the protests died away. The loudest sounds in the room where the happy hums of the headsets as they sucked away the minds of all the men present.

Some of them were too old, too frail, or too out-of-shape to survive. They had a similar fate to Mr. Striker.

Hannah—reliving what would been her living nightmare had it not been for the masterful mindfucking of Samuel’s expertise and hardware—came ecstatically as Samuel thrust even harder into her nubile young body. She saw what might have been the worst experience of her life over and over, dozens of times over, and only continued to cum and beg for more of Samuel’s cock.

“Make me pregnant!” she moaned. “Oh fuck, Daddy! Oh my god, my Husband! Please give me a baby! Please knock me up! Knock me up, knock me up, knock me uppp!”

Eliana and Cindy joined in her begging.

“We need it, Daddy,” they said together. “Please, please fuck her pregnant. Please make her so fucking full with your seed! Give her a baby and make this permanent. Claim her. Claim her like you claimed us!”

Samuel was thrusting so hard and viciously that he was never going to last that long. No one could inside of a body like Hannah’s and with beauties like Cindy and Eliana and Kenza urging him on. He came inside of Hannah explosively, slamming her body down onto the table, pinning her in place with his heavy arms while his dense white seed filled up her gloriously tight cunt.

The entire room came with them. Their moans filled the chamber. Slave women collapsed and begged to say his name.

That included Eliana and Cindy and Kenza too—only they sneered a little, enjoying their superior status, because they knew they were Good Wives. They got to say their Husband’s name. They got to thank him and have it mean something so special.

“Thank you, Samuel,” they said in a chorus.

They were almost all the same girl now—three faces of a single wife, needing and pleading and desperate to indulge their Husband all the time.

He was so powerful to be able to change them like he had. To change everyone.

Her Husband would run everything, everyone. Just like she had always wanted.