CeCe rose from her seat at the desk and moved around until she stood in front of me. I had a better idea what was coming, post-Mimi, but I still didn’t know where I stood with it.

Part of me wanted to ask my wife for input. Part of me, the part that considers things like guilt, knew what a bad idea that would be. Pat couldn’t understand this; I barely understood it myself. I found, though, that the lion’s share of me wanted to enjoy it all the same.

Looking up at the lawyer from where I sat, even through the suit she wore, I could see she was quivering with what I thought at first was excitement. Later, I would learn better.

She stopped with her feet just in front of mine, as far apart as her shoulders, and she bent forward at the waist, keeping her legs tall and long, putting her hands on the arms of the chair I was in. Her face was level with mine and the intensity in her eyes shocked through me like a jolt of electricity. She leaned forwards and her lips met mine.

Both of our mouths opened hungrily and we kissed like we’d been lovers for years and never lost the spark. I tried to remember the last time Pat and I had kissed like that and couldn’t; we’d moved past that, and it was only in that moment that I realised moving past that wasn’t automatically a good thing.

Pat was my right hand; she was the other half of my life; she knew everything about me that Miriam hadn’t known of Marcus, everything I had expected her to know. The love between us was comfortable and had helped us start to operate as a unit. Desire was still there, but lust was rare.

Just kissing CeCe was enough for me to find myself hardening where I sat, without our bodies touching any more closely, and in spite of the fact it had been little more than an hour since Mimi had ridden me.

I had made so many assumptions about Miriam and Celandine, and they had all been wrong - because Miriam and Celandine didn’t consider those identities their true selves.

Our lips parted, our eyes opened, and CeCe and I looked into each others eyes quietly.

After a few moments, CeCe seemed to shudder, her breath coming out in a sudden hiss. “Fuck,” she said quietly. “I needed that.”

“Well, I need answers,” I told her, and while her expression didn’t change, it seemed like everything about her face shifted; perhaps I saw her eyes refocus, and perhaps I just imagine that because it suits me to do so.

“Anything I can provide, Master,” she purred. “It’s yours. I hope you know that already.” She smiled, letting go of the chair’s armrests and straightening back up. “You found Mimi?”

It seemed like a strange way to put it, but I nodded as she shrugged her suit jacket off and set it down on one side of her desk. “You knew about her, then?” I asked.

CeCe nodded, briskly unbuttoning her blouse. There was a bnusinesslike purpose to it that drew my eye as surely as any striptease would have. “We all know about each other, Master,” she said. “Master wasn’t ashamed.” The expression that crossed her face was uncomfortable. “Hmm… I may not be as clear in explaining this as you deserve, Master.”

The blouse had been heavy enough that the fact her bra was bright red and decoratively laced didn’t show, even through the white fabric. I was beginning to understand that CeCe and Celandine might not be the same, but they lived in a certain amount of harmony, and this was clearly a CeCe contribution.

“What do you mean?”

She finished shrugging off her blouse and ran her hands around the waistband of her skirt, but her eyes were on mine. “You are my Master,” she said. “I can only address you as Master. I can only think of you as Master. My true self is your loveslave.” She hesitated. “Master,” she said after a moment, choosing her words with as much care as she might when writing a legal document, “is Master.”

It took me longer than it probably should have to put this together. “You’re saying… that you can only call me Master. But you can only call Marcus Master, too?”

Her eyes widened slightly as she stepped out of the skirt, revealing similarly lacy red underwear and also showing that what I’d assumed to be tights were thigh-high holdup stockings, just long enough to present professionally under her suit. I couldn’t read her expression properly - I didn’t have the experience yet - but when she again said “Master is Master,” I took that to mean I’d been right.

“You’re right,” I said. “This is going to be confusing.” But my throat was dry as I watched her unsnap her bra and set it aside. I kept remembering the way her lips had felt on mine, the urgency of her tongue, the honest truth when she’d told me she needed that.

And then there was the word she’d used; loveslave. It echoed around my head. “Are you all loveslaves?”

“Yes, Master. Our true selves.” She shimmied her way out of her panties and took a step back until her buttocks rested against the rim of her desk, long legs accentuated by the hold-ups and the heels of her work shoes, the rest of her body bare and inviting.

She put her hands against the desk rim, closing her fingers around them as if preparing to grip. “How do you want me, Master?” she asked. “Let me learn your pleasure.”

There were so many questions I needed to know the answer to, but in the face of this temptation I decided they could wait. As I stood up she gripped the desk more firmly, then lifted first one foot then the other from the ground, raising and parting her legs, leaning back until her elbows supported her on the desk and her feet were almost directly above her head.

“That… was something Marcus liked you to do, wasn’t it?”

“Master encouraged my flexibility, Master.”

It was as clear an answer as she seemed capable of giving. It was also more than I’d needed to know about my late brother, but then every part of this was more than I’d needed to know, if he was still alive.

I unbuckled my belt, let my pants settle to my ankles, and stood against her. Leaning over her, I planted my hands on her elbows, using her own support to brace me as I entered her, watching her face closely, tying to learn her since she was trying to learn me. She looked back, smiling, until my cock was inside her; her eyes crossed and rolled back in her head, her expression emptying of everything except for the faint suggestion of obedient euphoria.

Her back arched further up to meet me and I lowered my lips to her breasts, kissing tentatively then, with the sound of her gasps in my ears, taking her nipples lightly between my teeth and teasing them with my tongue.

I found myself fucking her faster and harder with each thrust, something of her urgency entering me and combining with my own desire. Like Mimi, there was something about CeCe that made her more attractive than the woman I’d originally met; something about the way she behaved, the way she carried herself. The same hard-working, ambitious attitude was completely different when channelled into a loveslave rather than a lawyer.

Things became, for a while, very noisy, and I would be lying if I placed all the blame for that on her.

*

I had her drive me back to her home afterwards and called Mimi on the way to tell her not to wait up for me. She accepted my instruction, as by this stage I already knew she would. After I’d ended the call, it crossed my mind to wonder if I could order her to fall asleep where she stood, and I made a note to test that sometime.

I spent most of the drive with my hand on CeCe’s thigh; there was something about that kiss, about that sex, that left me wanting constant physical connection. Celandine might have frowned on it - I couldn’t say - but CeCe was perfectly happy with the idea.

I didn’t really start in on my questions during the drive. About the only thing I said was, “You like this, don’t you? A Master?”

“Yes, Master,” CeCe told me. “This is my true self.”

“Would you rather I asked you to do things?”

“I will obey my Master.”

Which wasn’t an answer, but she certainly seemed to think it was. I took her thinking that for my answer.

I decided I was going to have to explore that.

When we got in the house, I said “Get me a drink,” almost immediately.

CeCe paused for a moment and said “Yes, Master. What’s your pleasure?”

I had no idea what she had available so I shrugged and said “Surprise me.”

“Yes, Master,” CeCe said again. She turned and vanished into the house, leaving her keys in the front door, having turned to obey my instruction before she’d finished locking the door.

I locked up for her and put the keys on the dresser by the door, then started to explore the ground floor a little more slowly than CeCe had been moving. I hadn’t really put any thought into my instruction, but I was realising as I looked about the place that I needed think more about what I was doing. There was no question that Marcus had put plenty of thought into it.

CeCe’s reappearance startled me while I was examining her bookshelves. Alongside what I took to be student law textbooks - their covers seemed too bright and colourful to be texts you’d use while a practising lawyer - she had a small collection of sci-fi and detective novels, only about half of which I recognised, and about as many again ‘literary’ novels, many more of which I didn’t recognise.

She bobbed a curtsy before offering me a tray on which sat a glass filled with something honey-coloured. “Your drink, Master.”

I took it, then walked over to the sofa and sat. “How long have you been… CeCe?” I asked.

“CeCe is my true self, Master,” she said. “Celandine is the self the world sees.” She made her way over to the sofa and settled down onto her knees in front of me, folding her hands in her lap.

“How did he know?” I asked, and she simply looked back at me.

“Know what, Master?”

“About your true self.”

“Master deserves my service.”

It wasn’t an answer but, again, she clearly thought it was. I took a sip of the drink she’d offered and was startled by the flavour; there was so much more of it than I was used to. I hadn’t realised, but clearly Celandine bought much more expensive liquor than I did.

“I could get used to this,” I said, but I didn’t realise I’d said it aloud until CeCe chimed in.

“We hope you will, Master. We need Master.”

It was the opening I’d tried to find, and it had come out of nowhere when I wasn’t prepared. “Why?”

“Master has showed us our true selves. We know the pleasures of this world are greatest in submission.” She hesitated for a moment. “Master knew we need a good Master. No matter what changed.”

I thought about that for a while. CeCe remained silent, giving me as long as I needed, but I knew she was hoping for me to make a decision she’d consider right.

“What makes a good Master?”

“That is not for me to say, Master. Master is above my judgement.” And I could hear the regret in her voice. I was sure she wanted to say more but couldn’t.

I drank some more, and I watched her, and I reached out and began to stroke her hair. Her eyes closed, her head tilting into my hand, and I wondered how it was I’d become so affectionate to her so quickly, especially when I’d not had the same reaction to Mimi.

“Is that why he left you to me?”

“Master knew we need a good Master, Master.”

CeCe was genuinely trying to be helpful, but I didn’t understand the answers she was able to give. I decided to set aside questions for the evening.

I finished my drink and stood up. “Let’s go to bed,” I said.

“Yes, Master.”

She led the way upstairs and she undressed as she did, and I wondered again if this was something she liked to do or if it had been something Marcus had liked her to do, but as I watched her hips sway up the stairs, I knew it was something I enjoyed.

I believe, looking back, that I had at this point already made some difficult decisions that I was simply not allowing myself to think about, because my conscience in that moment was entirely clear. Pat was my wife, but CeCe, Mimi, and whoever the other names in that notebook turned out to belong to were my loveslaves. I owed each of them different things.

*

There was no reason for me to wake early the next morning, I’d thought. I was wrong; I woke slowly while it was still dark outside, dimly aware of a voice speaking softly beside me. As had often happened when I’d lived in flimsy apartment buildings at college, the problem was that while asleep, my brain couldn’t quite make out the words themselves, and so I found myself roused to wakefulness.

“…you’ll want to say my codephrase,” Celandine was saying, “and I want you to, but please, not immediately, alright?”

I made some kind of noise. I would be lying if I said it was actual words. At least it sounded like I was asking a question.

“As me, you’re Richard. Your brother was Marcus. I can talk about the whole situation without getting trapped in my own mantras.” She sounded worried. “Just - let’s talk with me as me before you make CeCe out of me again, please?”

“Hang on,” I said. I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes, propping myself up on my elbow. “Hang on.”

“All I need is a chance to explain-“

“You’ll get it,” I said gently. “That’s for sure. Just… what time is it?”

“Uh…” She paused to check. “Five thirty.”

Farmers are supposed to wake up early, and I guess I often do, but this was too early for me. “Okay. Can we get a coffee before you say what you have to say?”

“Oh! Of course. Sorry. Um…”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” I sat up and fumbled for my boxers, discarded in the throes of excitement the night before.

*

Coffee was out of one of the pod machines, but it was very good for all that, and holding the mug in my hands as I sat at the kitchen table kept me grounded.

“CeCe is really apologetic that she couldn’t properly answer your questions,” Celandine began. “But CeCe operates according to some specific rules. I have a slightly clearer perspective on the whole system.”

“Right.” I nodded. “So when you said you wouldn’t explain until I’d explored a few things…”

“Would you have believed me?”

I should probably have seen the question coming, but I hadn’t. “I suppose not.”

“If I thought you’d believe me, I’d have explained right from the start,” she said. “But let’s face it, if I put the notebook down in front of you and pointed at my trigger phrase and asked you to say it out loud, you’d have wondered what the hell was going on, right?”

“I feel like I’d have been right to.”

“And you might just refuse to say it. No, I wanted you to prove it to yourself.”

I nodded, very slowly. “I guess that makes sense. Tell me what I need to know.”

I was actually surprised when the next two words out of her mouth weren’t “Yes, Master.” I shouldn’t have been.

“I should start with Mimi,” she said. “We all thought she was called Miriam, just like I thought Celandine was as true a perspective on myself.

“She was… well, she was friends with us. Some of us. And she was in a really, really shitty marriage.

“Six or seven years ago, we - me and Marcus, mostly - helped her get away from her husband, and stood by her in the divorce, and helped her get back on her feet. And we got to know her better. Or I thought we did, but in hindsight, I can’t have done.

“It turned out that part of the problems Miriam and her husband had had was that Miriam was asexual. At best she was interested in sex maybe once or twice a year. Her husband wanted satisfying nightly. Nothing wrong with that, except if you turn into an asshole about it and get violent. But even then, if things are that unbalanced, it’s probably going to get tense, and in this case it got worse than tense. Way worse.”

I nodded slowly. This wasn’t something I was ready for at breakfast, but I could see how much it meant to Celandine that I understood. Thinking back to Miriam I could believe what she was saying; could see the defeat in her shoulders from when I first arrived, and could imagine that as having returned to her body language only after she lost Marcus.

There was just one thing that didn’t add up.

“Miriam’s asexual?”

“Yes. But Mimi isn’t.” Celandine took a deep breath. “Here we jump forward about a year, a year and a half. More or less five years ago. And here I’m speculating a little; Marcus never told me all the details of this, but he discussed some things openly so I have some understanding.”

“Okay…”

“He worked with Miriam before he worked with me. It was something he’d developed at work. A computerised system that let him find her true self. Miriam’s true self he called Mimi, and she became his first loveslave. At the time I thought they were dating.”

“And if you thought she was asexual…”

She nodded. “I was expecting it to go very, very wrong. And one evening I went to confront him about it.”

“What happened?”

She hesitated, but a dreamy smile settled onto her lips. “I found my true self, with his help. And I became his third loveslave.”

She’d skipped over one. I thought of the notebook, tucked into my jacket pocket upstairs, but dismissed it for the time being. I would be seeking out every name on that list soon enough.

“And I know some of the rest.”

“Right. What you don’t know…” She hesitated. “I mentioned that I got a new notebook every couple of months, and that’s true. He wanted me to have copies, as the person who looked after his will. My job was to make sure that if something happened, we still had a Master. Not just a Master but a good Master.”

She wouldn’t meet my eye, but I didn’t think for a second it was because she was lying. The passion in her voice was too clear.

“We know our true selves now. And knowing, we can’t abandon them. They’re at the core of the good parts of ourselves. They’re our strength, our direction. And they need to serve.” I could see a blush form on her cheek. “And… we need to fulfil a Master’s pleasure, too. That’s our pleasure. It’s how we make ourselves happy. But it also gives purpose to when we fuck, when we suck, when we cum.

“Losing Marcus was hard. He believed, though, that you would measure up. Even if it took a little while. Because you wouldn’t want to let anyone down.” Her eyes met mine again and the connection was electric. “And because he thought you’d be like him. You’d find joy not in being controlled but in control.

“I… hope he was right.” It wasn’t a question. But it hung in the air in the exact same way as one.

“I’m going to try,” I said. “I don’t know, yet, what that means. But I’m going to try.” I took a deep breath. “I think I need to talk to Miriam. And Mimi. I haven’t really spoken to her since I found out…”

It was obvious to me that I’d missed something. Celandine had seemed more positive than Miriam even before I discovered her codephrase, but she was so much more vibrant afterwards, as Celandine or as CeCe. The Miriam I’d met was a woman who had probably been deep in darkness when I arrived. The impression I had of her was unfair.

“If I can offer a suggestion?” Celandine asked. I nodded. “You… should stop off at Marcus’ office today. Take stock of what’s happening there. And then go on home to Miriam.” She smiled. “And you can call me any time. If I’m not in a meeting, I’ll make time for you. And you can then order me to make something else, if you want.”

Her smile did things to me. “Can CeCe practice law?”

“She’s had to, sometimes,” she admitted. “Marcus would sometimes get frisky when we met up for lunch and not deactivate her.”

“But you don’t want me to do that.”

She just looked at me, dimples framing her smile. “I don’t get a say in it,” she said, “so I don’t have an opinion. Not so long as you’re willing to do your best for me and your other loveslaves.”

“I need to do some thinking,” I said. “And I need to figure out how your lives fit with the life of a farmer who lives halfway across the country. But I’ll try. It might be easier if I have at least some opinions from you guys.”

Celandine nodded, suddenly serious. “I can understand that.”

I said “See sea shells on the sea shore,” and as I watched Celandine’s intensity change into CeCe’s intentness I stood and drained my coffee. “I’m not getting back to sleep,” I said, “but let’s go back to bed.”

“Yes, Master.”

*

The offices of Positive Outlook were pretty small - they occupied half of two floors of an office building somewhere in the suburbs. I wasn’t at all sure where, and in fact I’d told CeCe to drive me, confident she’d know how to find them.

I’d been right.

The other thing that immediately stood out about the offices was that the only employees were women. I was met at the door by Delilah Whitlock, who had been my brother’s PA, and I swiftly met four female coders in the main room on the lower floor, where their desks rested in a largely open-plan room with dividers just low enough that unless someone bent forward over their desk they could meet the eyes of their coworkers and chat cheerfully and easily.

It was so unlike what I’d been led to expect from the tech industry that I was confident it had been a deliberate choice by my brother.

I have, I think, mentioned a few times already while telling you all this that I had not been quick to realise certain things. I don’t know what judgement you’ve formed of me as a result of that. Perhaps you think farmers are slow on the uptake anyway, and my confusion has just confirmed your prejudices.

In any case, I want to say here that I had, this time, understood what was happening, what this company truly was, with only one mistake.

As Delilah and I were leaving the main office, with her stated intent to show me where Marcus had worked upstairs, I leaned in close and I said “Yo ho, fiddle dee dee,” having checked my brother’s book.

Delilah - a woman of my brother’s age, buxom, mature, and reserved - turned her head to face me and the expression she wore was almost one of resigned contempt. I felt myself flushing. Surely I hadn’t mistaken this?

“Mr Templeton,” Delilah said as she turned back to the stairs, “was a great man. I hope that’s a family trait.” Something about her voice made it clear that if this wasn’t the case, there would be trouble, whether I thought I was in control of the situation or not.

“I have some things to learn,” I said, and found out as we reached the door to my brother’s office that his code phrase had, in fact, fallen on fertile ground, when a pair of hands slid around my shoulders from behind and a warm, soft, yielding body pressed against mine.

Delilah actually laughed at the confusion on my face; she let me and my follower in and closed the door behind us, giving the three of us some privacy. I turned and saw one of the programmers whose names I hadn’t paid much heed to yet; she had bright purple hair, deep red lipstick, and wore shorts that showed off intricate tattoos on her bare thighs.

“You must be DeeDee,” I said, and she grinned.

“Yes, Master. I’m so glad to meet you…” Her hand was toying with my belt buckle, her eyes on mind, and I was struck by how different every one of my inherited loveslaves was, not just in their appearance but in who they were.

If I’d ever been asked to speculate, I can’t imagine I’d have thought that a harem of controlled beauties would have distinct personalities.

I put my hand on hers. “Wait until you’re invited,” I said, and she pouted for a moment but was smiling agreement just seconds later.

“Yes, Master.”

Delilah by now had put her tablet down on Marcus’ desk and was standing by it, arms folded, watching with a slight smile as I pulled Marcus’ codebook out of my pocket and turned back to the page of codephrases. What had I missed-

Ah.

“And lilies are still lilies,” I said, and I watched the amusement in her expression soften into bliss.

“Pulled by smutty hands,” she answered softly, and I wondered what it was that my brother had been thinking of when he compiled each of these; how much each one had just been a stretch for the pet names he’d given them all, and how much he’d wanted to show off whatever references they all were.

It was still amazing how much more beautiful each of them were when they became loveslaves - became, as they claim, their true selves, though I’m far from sure I believe that claim. Delilah was a perfectly lovely woman, and I’ve since come to enjoy her company as much as Lily - she has a certain acid sense of humour I greatly enjoy - but Lily’s whole attitude and demeanour was somehow more desirable.

I didn’t watch her transformation for long, though. DeeDee might be waiting for her chance to get at my cock, but she clearly also had some ideas on how she might encourage me to give her that chance.

Under the black band t-shirt (I admit, I’ve never learned which bands DeeDee listens to) was no bra, more tattoos, and a pair of pierced nipples with rings standing proud. The shorts, when she wriggled out of them, revealed a thong in the same bright purple as her hair.

I was struck immediately by a mental image; myself seated in one of the old leather armchairs in CeCe’s home, with the high backs that almost seemed like thrones, with DeeDee dressed just like that and my wife Pat standing side by side, deciding what I wanted and how I wanted them to do it.

I bit my lip before I might blurt out something I wasn’t ready to hear, where saying it might make it suddenly real.

What I hadn’t realised was that Lily was, of course, not under the same order as DeeDee, and while I was looking at the younger woman, a loveslave compelled to be a cougar had made her own preparations.

Her teeth found my earlobe at the same time one hand slipped under my shirt, fingernails crawling with shuddering pleasure across my skin, and the other grasped my crotch through my jeans. She wasn’t squeezing, exactly, but having captured my attention she was grinding the palm of her hand into it, and she probably had a clearer idea of how I was responding than I did.

“We’re both so glad you’re here, Master,” she breathed into my ear, and the whisper itself brushed against my skin and set my senses aflame. I made a noise, completely involuntary, halfway between a moan and a growl, and I heard both of them moan in immediate response, saw DeeDee shiver and grin delightedly.

They were so keen to bring me pleasure that pleasure of their own enfolded them. I fell back into Lily’s arms, let her guide me back onto the big office desk Marcus had bought.

Lily straddled me above the waist, bending over, kissing me, caressing me, offering me her tits. At the same time, finally invited, DeeDee climbed up behind her, slipping onto my cock.

With both of them on me there was only so much I could do to thrust into DeeDee, but she didn’t care; she was more than happy to do the hard work for us both while Lily attended me closely, watching and gauging my reactions, and doing whatever else she thought would bring me more pleasure - and thus pleasure my loveslaves, too.

I would spend most of the morning sitting in Marcus’ office with the lights off, recovering, while as my PA, Lily stayed nearby, ready to offer me anything I wanted, including the rest of the office staff.