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Hostile Re-Takeover

By Limewah

Commissioned by Maxie (Birthday gift for LucianLupin)

18+

The chair creaks behind me as those muscular hands push hard into my shoulderblades, and squeeze my neck. I groan like I'm getting deep-throated. I can't help it. I didn't even realise I was that tense... it was the kind of rock-hard torsion that only the thick hands of a hell-jackal could fix. Rebis, that sleek and sturdy snow white slab of delicious flesh, has been doing wonders for me. Clearly his previous owner put him to good use with manual labour... he is excellent with his hands.

I look up at him. His expression is empty and relaxed. His two normal eyes are glassy and blank. But three more eyes - my brands, to be precise - gleam brightly above that; one in the middle of his forehead, and two further towards the top of his scalp, making a downwards triangular shape. They animate him, ensuring he does whatever his goat master (That's me, obviously) tells him to do. My cock is throbbing inside my pants, and I'm almost considering taking them off and letting him work me in other places. Rebis is the kind of beautiful thing I'd even consider bottoming for... power-bottoming, of course.

The intercom close to my feet crackles and the on-duty bouncer's voice is filtered through its gravelly speaker.

"Your guest has arrived, boss."

Oh, he's here~!

Sooner than expected, but not by much.

I take my hooves off the desk and sit up in my chair, having a look at the security cameras set on one side of it. I catch a glimpse of the open doorway (a portal between this hellish club and the mortal world), and about half of the bouncer's back. Normally Rebis would be out there with him, but he's better suited here as my personal masseur. I reach up to scratch his neck, getting nothing in response. A warm, mindless massage-machine.

The outside bouncer's shifting a little, posturing. It seems he's having a conversation with our unseen guest, sizing him up before he's let in.

Finally, he steps into view, past the threshold. The black-furred wolf with a streak of purple going down the back of his neck is still dressed to kill. His paws are in his pockets as he strides along, seemingly completely unruffled.

He's been notified that the place is under new management, right? Rebis had to have told him. He doesn't seem rattled at all. He's still strutting around like he owns the place.

I'll call his bluff. As soon as he enters the main floor of 'his' club, I cut the music and let my voice fill the room. The serving staff stop and listen, already keyed-in to associate my voice with intense pleasure.

When I speak over the intercom, he looks towards one of the cameras. His face is blank, almost disinterested. It's like he's looking directly at me...

I feel a teeny, tiny twinge of nervousness, about the size of a grain of rice. Probably nothing.

"It's your own fault for leaving the place unlocked," I say, making sure he can hear the smirk in my voice. "Anyone could have just swanned in and made this club their home. There's plenty of demons who'd love prime real estate like this... but lucky for you, I don't plan on changing things much. I'll take great care of your little club."

The wolf just... stares. He doesn't respond or rage. He's doing a good job at hiding his fear and concern... but I know he's rattled.

I know I would be if I was in his boots.

Anyway.

By now, all the club's employees are staring directly at him. They're still wearing the sleek black uniforms with purple trim on top, and absolutely nothing below the waist - I haven't made any tweaks to the uniform. But the three glowing eye-shaped brands on their faces and the horns starting to sprout from their heads make it absolutely clear that these little cuties are under my command, no one else's.

It had been piss-easy to put them under, too; it seemed Lucian let them work here of their own free will, the sap!

Big mistake on his part... one that he was about to pay for with his own will. My slaves circle him like sharks smelling blood, ready to do whatever I ask of them.

"Now, my darling employees... let's see to it that the previous owner is well looked after... give him a VIP experience~!"

For good measure, I start up the lights in the club once more. The flashes and strobes of deep purple shades normally get used to help loosen the purse strings of the clientele, but with some modifications and intensifications, they hit the staff just as hard, dazzling them and subliminally sliding in some flickered commands. Obey. Serve. Maxie is your Master. You know, the basics.

Add the thumping, bone tickling beat of the music, and you've got a perfect recipe for melting minds. Half the clientele, a mixture of mortals and demons on holiday, were just sort of staring into their drinks and drooling, listening to the music and opening their minds to further programming.

"As for our other patrons... if you'd like free drinks, or maybe even a job, why don't you join in?"

They stagger from their booths and stools and shamble towards him. Some drop to their knees and strip off their clothes, wanting to mirror the staff. Good initiative.

Rebis' fingers dig deeper into my back, and I moan triumphantly into the microphone.

"Oh, Lucian, your boy Rebis really is something special~ I'm lucky to have him. Don't worry, please, have your pick from the floor. I'm sure you'll find a decent fall-back."

He still hasn't said anything. I thought that would have gotten a rise outta him... but still nothing. He's watching the approaching hordes with what looks like disinterest.

That knot of nervousness hasn't gone away, and I think it's about the size of a pea now.

I gulp it down, and keep my eyes on the screen for tell-tale signs that he's starting to slip.

He takes a drink from a cute caprine twink and takes a sip. That's gonna do it, I'm positive. No mortal can resist the mind-numbing essences I've 'introduced' to the supply.

He smacks his lips, and I can almost see his tongue exploring the inside of his mouth through the high-fidelity feed. I watch him, for that tell-tale sign of the narcotic alcohol percolating into his body. He should go slack and dazed and unfocused just... about... now.

Nothing. No change.

...He smacks his lips, places the glass back on the tray, and continues along, totally undeterred. He walks through the crush of needy bodies, still heading straight for me.

...It's as big as a nectarine now. I swallow it down again.

"Really, take your time," I say. "There's plenty of time to t-talk, take the load off for now."

Shit, did I just stammer?

If he smells blood, if he smells my fear, he still isn't showing it.

A purple-furred feline tries to slip their fingers underneath the hem of Lucian's trousers, but the wolf stops them in their tracks. He places a finger on their nose and swipes upwards. Their head jerks back and their eyes roll up... and then they relax again, looking at him with a new kind of adoration.

From one angle, I can see that the three dots on his forehead are gone.

My brands are gone. Does that mean he's -

They're kneeling.

Fuck.

It's the size of an apple now. I'm choking on it a little.

Come on, Maxie, you're an all-powerful eldritch goat, this shit isn't supposed to phase you. Lucian is nothing compared to you. He's a small fry. He's a mortal. You're not going to kneel to him.

Lucian does the same upward swipe, like he's turning on a light-switch, on each of my servants approaching him. And the clientele.

My influence is fading from them. He just wipes it away, like it's some dust on a table.

I turn up the audiovisuals from my end. The bass and percussion, bone shaking and mind-thumping, should be enough to do the trick on top of the glittering blast of colour. At the very least it'll put my servants back in line. I watch as he continues his journey. His 'deprogrammed' followers walk behind.

It's not working. It's like he's got earplugs in, and sunglasses on. Nothing's phasing him. And one, by one, he's doing the same upward swipe on each person who approaches.. He takes his time, too. He knows I'm watching.

Is he trying to draw me out? Absolutely no chance of that happening. I still have my ace in the hole.

...I realise I've been leaning too far forward, out of Rebis' reach. So I sit back and snap my fingers.

"Massage me. Now."

I close my eyes and breathe. In a minute or two, Lucian is going to walk through that door, see that black and white goat with five black-and-gold eyes, and two violet horns. He's going to fall to my influence. He's going to kneel, and apologise for stealing my slaves away, and beg, DESPERATELY for my forgiveness.

He opens the door as politely and casually as though he still thinks this place is his.

The lump's the size of a pomegranate. I grin and hide it.

"Neat tricks, Mr. Lupin." I say, my fingers steepled, my upper-eyes flashing with little hidden rings of gold in their black depths. "But that's far enough, I think. You're far too late to stop this little hostile takeover."

He doesn't say anything. He just looks at me. I can't get rid of that lump. That panic. My heart's thumping. My mouth's dry. I lose my poker face.

"I-I mean it!" I say, my voice getting a bit too loud. "You'd better give in, submit to me, and maybe I won't put you on toilet-cleaning duty."

"Out of my seat, please." so polite. Like he's asking a child.

Oh shit. Oh shit. I'm losing.

I have to play the trump card, now.

"All right, Rebis," I say quickly. "It looks like it's up to you now. Y-you know what to do."

There's a sudden tightness that starts under my arms and ends at the back of my neck. My legs kick, but everything above my ribcage is frozen to the spot.

Rebis' sweaty scent wafts around me and he breathes heavily into my ear. I'm still fixed right on Lucian as he languidly slips around my - his desk and sits directly in front of me.

He man-spreads wide and I can glimpse a bulge hidden beneath the dark fabric.

He smiles for the first time.

I'm choking on my nerves.

"Lucky for you," he says, "I think we've got a job opening. How would you like to be an Assistant to the Bouncer?"

The squeeze tightens, the scent fills my head. It feels dense. Tactile. It expands inside my nostrils and swirls around my brain. It fills in the crevices and squeezes it like a sponge, and my thoughts trickle down, down... pooling between my legs.

"I'm... not big enough to be a bouncer..." that's the best protest I can think of...

"Don't worry." His smile widens. My cock jumps. "You'll be doing something else."

I faintly notice...

The lump's melting away.

I can breathe again.

I breathe the scent. Deeply. Deeper still.

My mind slips away, and with it my perception of time.

My nose is buried deep in warm flesh, and I breathe in the delicious sweat-scent. I'm holding someone's hand and shaking it - a slender lupine hand.

I'm gripping a pen and signing something shakily.

I feel a binding charm drape over my mind like a blanket.

I lose more time from then on.

I stand close to Rebis. Still breathing in his scent, even from where I am. I smile sweetly as he lets club-goers pass by him. I sell them tickets and flirt with them, welcoming them to Club Lunix. I assure newcomers they're going to have an amazing time. I welcome back repeat customers, giving them a swirly-eyed wink to prime them for their pleasures inside.

Whenever my gaze wanders, it wanders to Rebis. That jackal is so beautiful. My tongue and lips tingle, glistening very slightly with saliva, as I anticipate tasting his powdered-sugar body.

Our break's coming up. Well, a break for him. He's going to sit on my face, or bury my snout in his pits, or breed my throat. That's my other job here. I don't get breaks. But I don't need them. The Boss told me that I don't need breaks. The best way to apologise for trying to steal his real estate was to work constantly. I'm a demon. I can handle it. And I love handling him...

I'm counting down the seconds to his next break. So happy to serve, and please, non-stop. I don't need a break, myself. I've never been happier, serving and submitting to the Boss and all of his staff every single waking hour.

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