Quant Ch 06

By the closing hours of the next morning, things were set for a leisurely brunch filled with ambiance. The large room filled with the recently woken had its doors opened to take in the sounds of the walled garden, and light operatic singing. Tennyson Sr., Elowyn, and most of the prospective investors were seated at a table in one of the in a hall slightly smaller than the party-occupied one. The table was round compared to the long rectangular-style, purposefully for giving every non-Parnassus member there a false sense of equal standing. A set of chairs was arranged for every investor, for the esteemed guest and their trial slave; none of the secondary chairs were used as each slave was meant to straddle, stand by, kneel next to, or kneel under the table of the guest they serviced for the weekend. Elowyn only had one of the usual serving staff by her, observing the looks of satisfaction and heightened libidos, and evidence of some of the guests fervor on display on the bodies and faces of the mindless. She had a mind to pointedly not look in her husband's or Delphine's direction, scowling at having to apply cover-up due to the night before.

The enslaved Richard seemed her only solace, and kept her from scowling openly, especially at how fashionably late both her son with his Dolls and Hypatia were, their respective arrivals separated by a few minutes fooling no one. Junior avoided his mother's gaze shooting invisible daggers his way, no matter how exhausted the female trio he spent the night with looked.

"I trust everyone had a memorable night last night. Or at least half of us did," Tennyson Sr. joked, prompting laughter from the conscious and affluent. Nods and a few lewd affirmations were given.

"Splendid, and as your time here continues for the weekend, I hope you'll find it very hospitable, and a taste of things to come if you are a customer, or investor. But first, are there any questions to go around for the moment?"

"Yes," was someone near-moaning response from Alan Prettle, his companion slowly got him erect, learning his anatomy well after a long night. "How plentiful is your stock?"

"If you're asking more to the point of where or how they are acquired, I can assure you that the stock is not expected to be of short supply anytime soon," Tennyson answered diplomatically.

"Might a peek, or a tour of the facility be scheduled for this weekend?" The same man asked, looking at the girl who had a faint smile plastered all over her face. It was a stark difference from the look of repulsion she bore in the past as a former Parnassus house staff that caught the elder Prettle's lecherous eye, when she was conscious and able assert any kind of will.

Looking in Elowyn's direction without really looking, he felt her purposefully absent lack of affirmation, which was answer enough in their shorthand.

"Unfortunately, those secrets must remain secret. Consider it a Parnassus family recipe," tried to inject humor into his refusal. Light laughter circulated the table as Elowyn tried to not roll her eyes at the terrible joke.

"If the formula isn't negotiable, how about the price?" Gertrude, the matron of the wealthy Benson family, uttered. Her boytoy was beneath her under the table, still pleasing her as she seemed glad the question left her lips prior to the light groan. Elowyn quickly scanned the room for whom was interested in that question in-particular. None more than Edward seemed most engaged at that, as she expected.

"There may be some negotiation in-regards when it comes to pricing, down the line," Tennyson allowed a firmer tone to sprinkle upon his answer, signs of the more shrewd businessman coming to light. "But you must understand, our product is high quality, as evidence of your enjoyment is shown on all of your companions. It's a significant investment on our part to make these products as servile as they are. Expansion as you and others are hoping for requires a significant investment. Yes, some may be unable to reach the asking price, but that could speak to the demand and customers rising to the occasion to have a product that serves as a status symbol for the elite of the elite. And of course, our investors will have their needs met well before all others."

Tipping her head back as she was brought to a silent orgasm, Gertrude gave herself a few moments to bask in the moment before responding.

"A very sufficient answer, but I hope you also have one for the possibility of interference. We would hope that you would be mindful of the kind of attention such a monopoly like this will garner, from official sources..."

The question made Elowyn almost smirk, as she imagined an "official" beneath the table where she sat.

"Believe it or not, they might not be as oppressive as you'd think. The public is still mainly, by in-large unaware of organizations with deep investment in mind-control, like ours or the kind that handle Quants. I'm not sure governments would want to risk exposing some of their most successful prosecutions by engaging in a practice they would attempt to convict us for. Proprietary means like this are better for everyone if it stays out of the public eye, and we're much better equipped now than they'll ever be."

Elowyn answered this time, with words and a tone that instilled the most confidence thus far in their venture.

"Speaking of proprietary," Edward spoke up, "there are rumors that you've inspired other families into beginning investing in similar means."

"No one we know of I hope," Junior chimed in, trying to joke like his father. Elowyn smile shrunk a little, not even bothering to look at her son as the Bishop of Yearwood continued.

"Not to say that they would be anywhere close to what you've achieved, but have you given any consideration to the idea of competition, and staying ahead in the market?"

Elowyn's all-business cousin didn't bother hiding the concern in his tone or demeanor. His pessimism wasn't surprising or unwarranted; she had the same concerns with it came to most of their questions, and the answer she chose to give reflected that.

"We don't doubt that other families of similar prestige could create a worthwhile product that creates a competitive marketplace, but it would require numerous trials and even more numerous tribulations to reach a point where they could turn a profit by providing high-quality Dolls. We have no illusions of forever maintaining a monopoly, as they should have no illusions of our being ahead of the curve in more significant ways than just one."

She effortlessly spoke in a confidence that made Tennyson's feel comparatively forced.

"In the eventual case of having experienced competition, what counts for 'significant'?"

Edwards question was deliberately answered by Elowyn leaning back in her chair to enjoy a glass of orange juice, staring out into the garden. Wordlessly, she rose and moved from her seat towards the garden in slow step, urging all eyes, and eventually all feet to follow her. What they came across, deeper into the walled garden was a series of hot springs, and the source of the melodic background music - five young women, naked occupants of the steaming hot tub, singing in-concert with one another in angelic tones, when they weren't masturbating themselves, clearly whispering "Mistress Elowyn" to those close enough to hear. One of them noticed their audience, particularly their absentee choir director.

"Mistress Elowyn," one of them spoke jubilantly, rising from the waters as elegantly as the Lioness Parnassus did moments ago.

"Hello ladies. Wonderful singing you've entertained us with." The sound of her voice arose everyone out of their singing and masturbatory stupor to rise and acknowledge the guests, most of whom looked on in strange awe.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the servile ladies that have trailed mindlessly behind you would be considered 'Dolls'. But the ones standing before you now, a better term for them would be 'Obsequious'. Such a term is usually for describing a person typically holds negative connotations, for a person that seeks to win the favor of persons they admire, very amenable or servile to the wills of such people."

The Dolls were almost completely forgotten as the new mind-controlled models stood proudly-focused on the moment at hand. Rich eyes scanned the liveliness of the Obsequious, seeing them exert emotions and wills of their own, but nothing about them seemed challenging. Several of them looked at the investors as if silently admiring a person ranging from a friend to an idol, so eager to speak to them, but still rather waiting to be spoken to. All the Obsequious occasionally stole glances at their originator, Elowyn, as she explained what made them special, a premium purchase; she stood prouder than anyone, the culmination of her efforts paying off. Early mind control efforts were sometimes overzealous, scorching minds barren to the point that their original selves could not be recovered. Making Obsequious didn't require a totally-eradicated identity, able to work with any raw materials given, but ultimately preferred taking a person's intact personality and carefully tailoring their consciousnesses towards whomever paid the price. Instead of disposing of the unidentifiable like Tennyson fully supported, Elowyn continued to use them, using her lesser-considered skills to shape something more interesting than an impressive, assembly-line model, no different from a children's detail toy programmed to with just a few phrases to entertain.

At Elowyn's insistence, she commanded the Obsequious that eyed Gertrude Benson to explain why she idolized the Benson matron. Like an eager, mindful interviewee vying for an executive assistant position, she went down the list of facts about the Benson family business, and how Gertrude in-particular helped bring it to the level of wealth worthy of being able to invest in the Parnassus works. She was almost finished listing facts before Elowyn's hand reached out and caressed the back of her neck, exerting energy no one could see, but the Obsequious could feel, and exude to the crowd. Tipping her head back, masturbating with one hand, sultry eyes landed on Gertrude again, her other hand stroking her ample breast, teasing the bisexual matron from afar, but suddenly taking slow steps towards her with the grace of a world-class exotic dancer performing for the one person that literally made her juices flow. She didn't beg Gertrude like the Dolls did, she persuaded, whispered, carefully seduced, until Gertrude pushed her mindless Doll away and took the hand of the ecstatic Obsequious back to the bedroom she'd barely slept in.

"Compared to the other families, I can safely say we not only have quality and quantity, but also variety as well," Elowyn concluded her sales pitch. She noticed most approving smiles, except for Tennyson, who looked like he was bearing an artificial smile; the Obsequious didn't fit the paradigm of the overall program, his original idea, and he let Elowyn continue her small pet program believing it would not compare to the mass market value of Dolls. Having been proved gravely-incorrect while impressed, he lamented his wife with a stare.

"This is not what we should be selling. You're creating a demand of which we cannot possibly meet the supply," his look complained. The Lioness paid it no mind, letting the investors congregate with the Obsequious, for what turned into a lively pool party all of a sudden.

***

Attempting to extend himself from his inner bunker again with Rimota, the captured Quant tried peering through Subprime's eyes again, but found they were strangely closed, and his connection to the outside world even more strangely-detached, as if sleeping. Hearing what was going on was sparse, but viable compared to the other senses, listening to wealthy within earshot prattle on, recognizing patrons by voice, hearing how the women were quite comfortably naked and pleasantly conversational. He couldn't believe some of the famous names attached to distinct voices; Yearwood, Benson, Donatell, all families in high-esteem on paper, some of which he figured the suspicious Parnassus family would try to entice. Investigating the Parnassus clan was big enough, if only his government handles knew the breadth their enterprise had spread.

The Quant had already given himself a mental refresh, letting the next wave of external influencers start from scratch again. But the more he took stock of his own avatar, and the conditions in the compartmentalized bunker, the more he realized some residue of Elowyn's control still remained. Days spend in meditation, expending copious amounts of energy using multiple high-echelon mental techniques was bound to wear on him; not even the mystics he'd learned the techniques from had tested him to this degree, nor would they have recommended Richard using them this frequently. His overall gambit of control was still in-play, to quietly slip into Elowyn's head the same way she tried to slip into his. As Subprime's eyes caught sight of Elowyn, and Elowyn gently looking back, a physical reaction in his avatar sprung to life. It was as if she was looking through her, into Richard's soul that she had not yet penetrated. That lingering look was enough to inspire more thoughts of her; he tried to focus in on whatever inane words were being spoken, as if he was still working his case. But enough of her control lingered in him to tease memories that became imaginings based on desire. Elowyn's ensemble changed amongst the crowd, back into the black velvet dress inspiring private swooning. His hands yearned to feel the fabric, holding her at her sides, feeling her confident smiled turn domineering and slightly lewd, giving her full control over both their wills.

He considered taking control and having Ella bolt off the property at top speed, dismissing it over the prospect of her still being caught. And even if she somehow escaped quickly enough, that didn't get him any closer to being freed in time.

"Are you sure you want to be freed," he heard Elowyn's voice whispered, prompted by Elowyn announcing something else to the crowd.

"Yes," Richard protested. "I want freedom. I want to be...liberated," he suddenly remembered, pushing him to remember a way to indirectly serve and still achieve his own goal.

Leaving Ella's mind as Elowyn excused herself, he closed the ajar door to his bunker again, resuming his mantra, hoping Elowyn would soon give him another chance to gain more ground that day.

"A calm mind is controlled, is freed, is mine."

"A calm mind is controlled, is freed, is mine."

"A calm mind is controlled, is freed, is mine."

***

Most of the party generally disbursed soon after Elowyn left; she told the Obsequious to get themselves cleaned up and joined the serving staff, which they were happy to comply. Most walked the property or enjoyed the walled garden with their Dolls, given a lot to think about after the investor's meeting. Edward accompanied Tennyson to his main study.

"I trust your cousin has answered your questions more than adequately," Tennyson goaded, half-taking credit for Elowyn's work.

"Certainly more than enough for one part of it," Edward admitted. "But as it happens, this success has borne at least one more pivotal question, concerning your wife."

Tennyson half-smiled. "I suspect this matter concerns her indirectly.

"I could ask the direct question about who's directing this operation, but I think that question has been well-answered by now, has it not?"

"Well, that is how one gets a title such as 'Lioness Parnassus.'"

"Perhaps you can tell me how one acquires a title like the "Parnassus Lion Tamer,'" Edward asked with a hint of amusement.

"The same way someone gets dubbed 'the Bishop of Yearwood,'" Tennyson smirked. "A flagrantly-accurate name depicting talents respected in public and earned in private." Edward nodded gently at that assertion. "If the Yearwoods and the other families are ultimately interested, it's less bullwhip and chair, and more of a subtle approach."

"That approach meaning Elowyn believes to be in-control, but isn't aware that you're running the show?"

"As Elowyn doesn't mind Delphine's resemblance to her youth, I'm sure the families collective won't mind patriarchal leadership for this one.

"You sure the Lioness won't mind? Or can't mind? Internal strife when profits are to be made makes for horrible incentive.

"The Lion Tamer doesn't walk on-stage ready to take on a wild predator for all to see. Prior to the show, perhaps the predator has already been conditioned enough to believe what's happening is what should be. How could a Lioness complain about that?"

Tennyson didn't know how his extended family would take to hearing one of their own a pawn believing herself to be a feral queen; it surprised him sparsely, and pleased him immensely to find that Edward chose profits over familial connection.

"As long as she doesn't complain under any degree, the others and myself shall be satisfied."

They shook hands, allowing their most valuable asset to slowly descend into the loop Elowyn was also ironically being kept out of.