While Andrew and Juliet were worrying about her, Caitlin had been far from idle.

She had gone back to her lodgings after the fire alarm, and on the route back had started to think a little more clearly about the events of the last hour or so.

There had been at the time a strange aura of unreality about the whole encounter. She had been moving for some time before the fact it had happened properly sank in.

Biting her lip, she had asked herself what she really thought of what had happened, and could only come to the same conclusion she’d already reached once; either she had enjoyed it, or the enchantment she was under had made her enjoy it. It bothered her that she couldn’t tell which was which.

She next asked herself if what she’d done had been wrong, and was able to convincingly (at least to herself) conclude that it hadn’t been. How about what he’d done?

Caitlin was used to looking at things based on their results more than anything else. If you considered this situation from that perspective, she thought, he’d been a lot less wrong than the PUAs who negged her relentlessly in the bar of an evening. The only satisfaction to be had from those men was in drinking them under the table, as in her experience most American men couldn’t keep up.

Throughout these considerations, she was fully aware that she was affected by magic. That had been the most dreamlike element of the whole affair, but by the time she let herself in her front door, it was an acknowledged fact, proved by the fact - and this thought did bring a blush to her cheeks - she was no longer wearing any panties.

For an hour she sat in her room, on her bed. She’d taken out her phone to scroll aimlessly, as she usually would when sat like that, but it rested in her hand, still locked, as her eyes gazed at the wall of her room without registering it, for the full hour.

She was alone with her thoughts, but it took an hour of that contemplation before she realised why she hadn’t turned on her phone, why she had simply been still, what it was about the situation that felt uncomfortable.

She was waiting to be told what do do.

Caitlin hadn’t considered herself at all kinky until a couple of weeks ago, when a college friend who was openly kinky was talking about the dominance games she liked to play with her partner. Caitlin had listened to several of these stories and recognised in them things she’d done, ideas she’d had, plans she’d made. And her friend viewed these as domination, as power exchange, as kink.

This had led Caitlin to ask her friend - and herself - several searching questions, and she had been toying with the idea that enjoying being able to cow and coerce her boyfriends into fun sex games might actually be an indicator that she was kinky. She wasn’t convinced that the word domme fitted, but she’d spent some time talking to her friend about consent, dominance, and submission.

She was aware enough of the existence of switches to have considered the question and to be pretty sure that she wasn’t one. She didn’t enjoy the idea of being obedient and submissive to another, of giving up her power to them.

Under the spell, at least, it seemed she could enjoy the fact of it enough that her instinct had been to wait for instructions.

A shudder ran down her spine. That didn’t feel right; it didn’t feel like her at all. Perhaps he was dominant enough that, under the spell, she was submissive to him. But that didn’t mean she should surrender her initiative too.

Besides - and she found herself smiling warmly in the reminiscence - it had seemed to her like he’d enjoyed her taking the initiative.

So that was what she should do, clearly.

She turned to her phone to begin.

The ophthalmologist’s website had a Meet the Team page, but it was wildly out of date. She was ready for that, though, and made LinkedIn her next stop, where snooping through the list of staff attached to the company page gave her a candidate.

So far so good. Next she needed an address.

She couldn’t find any listings when she googled his name. Not entirely surprising, but she’d had her hopes up.

What she did find, though, was an old post on a College Confessions page for the local university:

I saw Professor Fontaine driving Andy Colton off campus every day last week. So if you’ve ever fantasised about your teachers, even the hot ones are willing.

Caitlin smiled softly to herself as she skimmed the comments. The post was a few years old and it seemed like Andrew hadn’t looked quite as good back then; mind you, it was her experience that a lot of male students didn’t. Either they hadn’t developed their confidence yet or they were using it badly, just making themselves come off worse when they tried.

He’d had some luck though, evidently.

Or… was it luck?

The thing that had so affected her was a stone, a magic one, whatever that meant. That wasn’t exactly something you picked up through a college course, and he was confident with it.

Maybe he’d had it then.

Professor Juliet Fontaine did have an address which showed up when she searched.

She drummed her fingers on the back of her phone. This was probably a stupid idea.

She got up, grabbing her backpack, and was at the door before another thought hit her. She faltered, then turned back into the room. With a quick underhand throw she deposited her bag back on the bed and crossed in two quick strides to the wardrobe.

She had competition now, it seemed. And where there was competition, there was a winner.

When at last she made it out to the suburbs, having collected a number of lingering looks and one outright stare as she rode the bus, it was starting to get dark. She found the street she was after easily.

The home she wanted had a car parked outside that she recognised from the parking lot at the eye test. She was surprised at herself for how certain she was that she’d seen it earlier that day. It seemed to have taken on greater importance in her memory, perhaps simply because she could now associate it with him.

She forced herself to just walk past the house first, glancing in through the window as if casually passing by.

The blinds weren’t properly drawn and through their slats she could see Andrew (it was still strange having a name for him, in spite of how important to her he felt) lying back on his sofa - no, he was lying back on a half-familiar woman, resting his head in her cleavage, her arms gently caressing his chest.

That had to be the Professor, Caitlin told herself. She must have walked past her a time or two on campus, and those beautiful features had caught her eye enough to be remembered.

At that moment, though, she felt mostly jealousy. I could make him happier than she ever could, she told herself, her expression curdling into something angry. It was more effort to move on down the street.

She turned left at the end of the road and looped back to see what the place looked like from the back. The problem with suburbia was that everything was fenced off firmly; the fence was a little over waist high here, lower than she would have expected, but still tall enough to be a nuisance to climb.

It looked like some of the other properties had planted trees to block the view; the Professor and Andrew hadn’t yet. (Caitlin snorted to herself at the thought that the Professor had anything to do with their decisions.)

She looked around carefully and, seeing nobody watching, grabbed hold of the top of the fence, swinging a leg up at the same time in an effort to pitch herself over it.

It wasn’t nearly as successful as she’d wanted; she did get over the fence eventually but by then the coat she’d thrown on over her outfit had snagged on the fence and her landing wasn’t a graceful descent onto both feet but a drop, twisting her body so that instead of landing head-first she took the fall on her back and her amply padded rear end.

Getting back up, she looked around sheepishly. Now not being seen wasn’t just about stealth, it was also about feeling less embarrassed.

She unhooked her torn coat from the fence and rolled it up, tucking it out of sight in the gathering dusk, then straightened up.

She was left wearing the green velvet basque she’d bought on a whim late one night while drunk and a black micro-skirt so tight it had probably been part of the difficulty she’d had climbing, plus a pair of dark sheer tights which she loved but which, now, she had to concede were effectively ruined, torn in places, and her good brown suede boots.

Thankfully it had been a dry day and a little brisk dusting was enough to deal with the rest of her costume’s abuses. She peeled the tights down and out from under her skirt then stepped out of them and thrust them into the same dark corner as her coat.

She straightened up and took stock of what was around her, and was glad that her exchange year was at a lower latitude than back home in Stirling. She’d made a point of going bare armed and as bare legged as possible for most of her time here, simply because it felt warm enough to her to do so; she’d taken to fielding concerned questions of “Aren’t you cold?” with a smile.

At least she was warm as she tiptoed across the back yard to peer in through a window.

From this perspective she couldn’t see them; most likely they were still in the front room. Certainly they’d looked comfortable enough there. The thought made her grit her teeth and she unclenched her jaw only with an effort of will.

She was better for him than the older woman, dammit. She should be the one in there being used as a pillow.

Her lips quirked into a smile. There were, she reflected, better ways to use her. She suspected he could be persuaded to them.

She tried the kitchen door handle. It turned, but the door wouldn’t open; it was locked.

Caitlin bit her lip. She hadn’t come so far just to fail in the final execution of her plan. Then the light came on in the kitchen.

She was crouched below the level of the windows, head bent down, willing herself motionless. Reflex had carried her through what might have been a moment of frozen panic, and she’d moved so quickly she’d barely realised what she was doing.

The kitchen windows weren’t fully soundproofed, and their voices could clearly be heard. “...will set it to recharge, M’sieur,” she was saying. “And we can make enquiries.”

“Yeah…” Andrew sounded tired, or perhaps drained would be more accurate. “It’ll be fine, Jules.” Caitlin heard them kiss, could picture them standing close, his hands on her hips, turning her to face him, completely in control…

Her cheeks were burning.

“I know, M’sieur,” she answered him. “I have faith. After it all, how could I not?”

There was a snort of amusement, she presumed from Andrew. “You would,” he said, and he sounded amused. “You’re not running this place.”

“Of course not, M’sieur. Mine is to follow and obey.” There was just as much amusement in her voice, even under an attempt to be deadpan demure. She was flirting with him, but Caitlin knew she was also stating the truth of her life.

“So when’s dinner?”

“Very soon, M’sieur, if you will permit me to focus.”

“If you promise to be your very best once you bring it through.”

“M’sieur, you know it is impossible for me to do anything else.”

There was a sharp thwacking sound, followed by a low moan of delight. Caitlin had felt his hands in gentler mode earlier, could picture for herself the spank that must just have been dealt out. She bit her lip against any sound she might have made herself and tried to set aside from her thoughts just how much she would have enjoyed being the recipient.

Then she thought more about the fact she was sure she would have enjoyed it. She had an ex who’d tried spanking her, once. It had ended badly for him, and while they’d tried to keep going, that evening was ultimately responsible for him becoming an ex.

She listened to the sounds of a woman bustling around the kitchen, cooking, singing softly to herself, and she held her kneeling position rather than give herself away.

But by this point her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and she lifted her head to look around the back yard and the house’s back wall.

There was no going back. There could be no going back, not when Andrew deserved so much better than he was getting. Not when she had come so far.

Not when…

Not when her own need ached so much that it overrode careful thought.

Caitlin had managed to hide that from herself for quite some time but, once she started eyeing the trash placed by the garage and considering whether or not she could climb them, the true motive could no longer be denied.

She crept forward, under the line of the window, and clambered as quietly as she could onto the trash cans. Bracing her hand against the wall of the garage, finding her balance and steadying herself, she thought simply I must look ridiculous.

All the same, she took hold of the roof and pulled herself up, walking her feet up the wall, until she was crouched on the garage roof.

She’d been right. There was a window overlooking it. Next was a question more of luck than anything else - was it unlocked, and would it open to leverage from outside?

If the answers were yes, she would have to recommend upgrading their home security. But equally, if the answers were yes, she would be in the house, and in a position to make her case…

Slowly, carefully, she worked her fingers under the window and slowly eased it open, then snaked her foot over the ledge and into the room.

It was, perhaps, a spare bedroom; she came in kneeling on the mattress, the bed being unmade, and climbed back to her feet afterwards before tiptoeing on toward the door, which she eased open very slowly, just a crack, until she could see the lit staircase and, just as important, hear what was going on downstairs.

Andrew (presumably) was watching TV, one of those quiz shows where every question gets its own music stings. She couldn’t quite remember which one.

About twenty minutes later she heard Juliet announcing “Dinner is served, M’sieur!”

The TV stayed on as Caitlin listened to cutlery on plate and the enthusiastic moans of an enthralled college professor sucking her Master’s cock. Her mouth was watering, she realised; Juliet’s enthusiasm was contagious. Caitlin regretted that she hadn’t yet discovered the taste of him, didn’t know how he would feel under her tongue, the specifics that would allow her better to imagine herself in the other woman’s place.

With dinner finished she heard one set of footsteps on the stairs. A glimpse through the door showed her Andrew making his way upstairs, his pants and underwear discarded now downstairs, his shirt unbuttoned and open.

It was a clearer view of the man she now desired above all than she’d had before. She felt the desire rising in her, wondered again how much of it was her and how much was the enchantment. Wondered, too, if there was a difference.

Juliet wasn’t following him upstairs. As soon as he was past the door - he had given a passing glance to it, perhaps registering only subconsciously that the door was open - she opened it and moved behind him on tiptoe, as quiet as she could.

He went into the bedroom. He was reaching out for a towel hung over the back of a chair when she slipped up behind him, one hand reaching up over his shoulder and down across his chest, one slipping around his waist to find his cock.

His reaction was immediate, his cock stiffening in her hand, the rest of him straightening. It was natural for him to assume that this was Juliet instinctively, but if he was given a moment to think he’d realise that it couldn’t be. Needless to say, that would be far from ideal.

So she got ahead of him. “Did ye miss me, baby?” she purred, her voice as seductive as she knew how to make it. “Ah, ah - nae need tae jump. Yuir in safe hands.” She paused for emphasis. “Th’ best hands. Ah just wanted tae show ye that.”

In spite of her assurances, he turned in her embrace until he was facing her. Caitlin didn’t release her hold on his cock, but had started stroking, slow and tender, as much an exploration of it as anything else.

She smiled confidently up at him. “Ye dinnae need yuir woman doonstairs,” she said quietly. “Ah can dae ye everythin’ she does an’ more.”

“Caitlin… how are you even here?” His voice was a little louder than it needed to be, and it seemed to crack for a moment, either because of her hand’s attentions or he was unsure. The question told her which was more likely.

“Ah had tae see ye,” she told him. “So Ah tracked ye down.”

“I didn’t tell you to do that.”

“Ach, ye dinnae need to tell me whit tae do,” she said breezily. Still holding him, she took a step forward, which pushed him back a step. Then another, and then another, and with the third the back of his legs made contact with the side of the bed; his knees bent as he continued trying to give ground, and he fell backward onto it. Caitlin was already scrambling after him; by the time he collected his wits she was kneeling above him, braced by one arm, smiling down at him with an expression at one and the same time protective and predatory. “Ye see?” she asked softly. “Ah’ve good enough ideas fuir us both.”

She leaned down to kiss him and the hunger in him as he kissed back was unmistakeable. Caitlin felt a surge of triumph. He understood!

She broke the kiss and lifted her head, looking down at him tenderly. He was looking back at her thoughtfully. Gauging her?

Caitlin leaned forward with her hips, keeping her knees and hands exactly where they were, using her grip on his shaft to angle in until her pussy lips were brushing his tip. It was a move she’d used before, and it had never failed to extract any promise she’d wanted from the man beneath her.

She was not prepared for how much it would affect her in turn under the enchantment of the stone. Her vision swam the moment her wet, waiting body touched his. A wave of pleasure rolled out across her body, shuddering through her.

She was aware of nothing but the temptation to sink her hips down onto him and ride him until his satisfaction, something she knew would, in turn, provide her with her own bliss. Her body trembled with her determination to assert her own decisions.

She managed to hold herself off from him and shook her head, clearing her vision with an effort of will. Focusing on him, she saw on Andrew’s face his desire and his own uncertainty in this moment. He wasn’t used to having a partner make decisions of her own, she realised.

He would have to learn.

“All ye have tae do is say the word,” she purred softly, hanging her head close to him, her long auburn hair a curtain between himself and the wider world. “Ah kin dae the rest. Well… maybe she’d take bein’ sent packing better fae you…”

She tried to read, in the bemusement which crossed his face, which way he was leaning, whether the points she was making were the right ones, what she needed to say to have her way before she let him have his way with her.

“You think I should let her go?” he asked quietly. She wasn’t sure what the emotion was behind his voice, but it was tight with emotion.

“We dinnae need her,” she said. She kissed him again; if her pussy against his cocktip didn’t work, a reminder of her piercing might. It so often did, and he’d reacted to it so strongly in his office she knew it was tantalising for him.

This time it was him who broke the kiss, turning his head from her lips after a few moments. She pouted; for one thing, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up. Holding herself not quite on him was getting harder by the moment, partly because of her own needy desire, partly because she had now been holding herself not just up but as close to unmoving as she could for a long time and her muscles were starting to complain.

“I want her,” he said simply.

“Ye dinnae want me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Silence settled over them both. Silence was worse. The less they spoke, the more aware she was of just how powerful her own need was becoming. It was, she thought, perhaps fancifully, as if the enchantment she was under was rising up against her.

“This isn’t a competition,” he tried, and Caitlin rolled her eyes in disdain. That wasn’t how life worked.

She opened her mouth to give him the retort that a dull platitude like that deserved, but a hand suddenly grasped her by the scruff of her hair on the back of her head. Whoever it was lifted slowly enough not to tear hair, but still enough that Caitlin’s eye line came right back up to horizontal, where her gaze came face to face with the stone.

Caitlin gave a bewildered whimper.

She had remembered staring at the stone before, but wouldn’t have been able to put why into words. It was only when you were looking directly at it, she thought, that the realness of it was apparent. The stone was more real, somehow, than the world around it, and therefore anything which tied to it was more real than anything which contradicted it.

The rest of her surroundings seemed irrelevant - all but the cocktip tantalising her. But then it was Andrew who had introduced her to the stone. He was irrevocably tied to it.

The world was suspended.

“Do you feel the stone?” It was the other woman asking, the other woman who Caitlin heard, the soft concession of her accent filling her ears.

“Ah feel th’ stone.”

“You feel the stone, and it weighs down your will.”

“Ah feel th’ stone an’ it weighs doon mah will.”

“M’sieur?” Juliet asked politely.

M’sieur had not been idle while the stone reasserted itself in Caitlin’s consciousness. His hands had roamed all over Caitlin’s far-more-exposed body. One of his fingertips was currently tracing the tattoo on her thigh, something which seemed to give him some satisfaction.

Now, though, at Juliet’s invitation, he joined in. “Caitlin, do you hear me?”

“Ah hear ye, an’ Ah obey.” The words fell so naturally from her lips, the weight of the stone pulling her in new directions.

“You must obey without question.”

“Ah must obey without question.”

“To you, my decision is final.”

“To me, yuir decision is final.”

“It’s hotter when I am in control.”

“It’s hotter when yuir in control.”

“M’sieur?” Juliet asked.

“She followed me home, Juliet,” Andrew said softly, amusement filling his voice. “I’m keeping her. I know that wasn’t the plan, but…”

“If she will understand who is in control, M’sieur, I see no issue.”

Caitlin didn’t just hear Andrew’s laugh at that; she felt it too, his cocktip bouncing with the guffaw, almost inside her for a moment. She ached for him.

“Yuir keepin’ me,” she said, helpless to stop herself. “Ah will understand who is in control.”

“You will obey,” Andrew told her.

“Ah will obey.”

“You love to obey.”

“Ah love to obey.”

“You want my cock.”

“Ah want yuir cock.”

“You want to please my cock.”

“Ah want tae please yuir cock.”

“You want to watch Juliet please my cock.”

Caitlin didn’t want to agree to this, but there was no way for her to prevent it. “Ah want tae watch Juliet please yuir cock,” she said, and felt a strange wonder at the truth of it. She knew that wonder would disappear once the stone was hidden from her and its weight ceased to hang on her will. Knew that she would simply accept the truth of it, and that her previous beliefs would seem faint and implausible dreams. But she only knew that because it had happened, once before.

“You need my cock.”

“Ah need yuir cock.”

“You need to please my cock.”

“Ah need tae please yuir cock.”

“You need to watch Juliet please my cock.”

“Ah need tae watch Juliet please yuir cock.”

“You will serve.”

“Ah will serve.”

“You love to serve.”

“Ah love tae serve.”

“You will please.”

“Ah will please.”

“You love to please.”

“Ah love tae please.”

“My decision is final.”

“Yuir decision is final.”

Caitlin felt the stone weighing her down more and more, stretching her perspectives until they changed in accordance with his words. She felt, too, the steady twitching of his cocktip against her labia, each one making her head swim.

She wanted to please his cock, but until this was done, whatever it was, there was no chance of that.

“You’re so happy you met us both,” Andrew continued.

“Ah’m so happy Ah met ye both.”

“What’s the word, Juliet?”

“M’sieur is thinking of ‘unicorn’, M’sieur.”

“Do you know what a unicorn is, Caitlin?”

“Aye.”

“You’re our unicorn.”

“Ah’m yuir unicorn.”

“Now, are you going to ask me to abandon Juliet again?”

“Nae, Ah willnae.”

“Very good. She needs a Master.”

“She needs a Master,” Caitlin agreed, and the weight of the stone stretched her values a little further.

“As a matter of fact, you also need a Master.”

“Ah also need a Master.”

“I am your Master.”

“Yuir my Master.”

“Put the stone away, Juliet.”

“Oui, M’sieur.”

And it was tucked under one of the pillows of the bed on which they lay. Caitlin watched it out of sight, her eyes never leaving it. Once it was gone she blinked slowly.

She had meant to remember something about the experience. She knew that much, but any further detail had fully escaped her.

The hand holding her hair had stopped holding it at some point. She looked down at Andrew. “Ah… apologise, sir.” She didn’t regret her actions, but they made no sense. Ejecting the Professor from the arrangement when she needed so badly to watch her please Master’s cock?

She couldn’t have been thinking clearly. A single man couldn’t have a unicorn. That wasn’t how the concept worked.

“So you should,” he said, but his tone was cheerful, almost making a joke of it. His hands slid from her body, much to her regret. “Stand up straight.”

“Ah hear an’ Ah obey,” she answered, crawling backward off the bed and straightening up almost to full attention. She took hold of the hem of her microskirt and tugged it awkwardly back down, but left her bust half-in, half-out of her basque where Andrew’s hands had coaxed it. It was awkward and a little uncomfortable. Somehow that made it feel more erotic. More as if she was directly pleasing him.

His eyes were on her as she settled into position, and he favoured her with a nod once he had. “How long were you planning to be in the country?” he asked.

“Ah’m here until th’ summer vacation, Master,” she answered him.

“We’ll have to do something about that,” he said.

“This is why usually when he has another woman like you,” Juliet said, “he erases their memory at the end.”

Caitlin nodded slowly, considering. She felt embarrassed by the comment, but knew it made no sense. She didn’t smoke, carried no lighter. She couldn’t have been responsible for the fire alarm even if she’d wanted to be.

“Juliet,” Andrew said suddenly, “eyes on me.”

“Oui, M’sieur.” She turned her attention fully toward him.

Andrew beckoned her forward. “Take your rightful place.”

“Oui, m’sieur.”

Caitlin watched the other woman make her way forwards, pausing at the foot of the bed to hook her hands into the booty-style pyjama shorts.

She wriggled - it would be fairer to say, she shimmied - her way out of them. Bare from just above her elbows down, she climbed onto the bed and crawled over Master before settling back, kneeling either side of him, and letting herself slide down onto his waiting cock.

The message was not lost on Caitlin as she watched Master’s existing loveslave ride him. Here was what she had tried to claim, and it had been taken from her and assigned to Juliet.

She could feel Master’s eyes watching her for much of the sex that followed, but she paid that no attention. Her own gaze was focused entirely on the man’s cock. This was her first chance - her privileged opportunity - to watch Juliet please his cock, and she wasn’t going to let herself lose out on that.

Not only that but she was also taking careful mental notes. This was how he liked to be pleased? So be it.

Caitlin knew she had been censured for reaching too far, but she wasn’t a fool. She knew that this didn’t mean ‘don’t reach at all’. A woman had to have goals.

She was confident that she could learn to please his cock better than Juliet. Could become a more valuable servant.

And she was determined that she’d achieve just that. For the time being, she waited obediently for her turn, never doubting that it would arrive.