The Gamer Chapter 1324 – The Slab was Poured (Patreon)

“Why the fuck are you doing that shit?” Eliana asked. The curse words thrown into the question were a mere addition to what was all around a calmly toned sentence. Sometimes John wondered if he should have tried to wash out her potty mouth. He knew he could. She was perfectly capable of not cursing when she was engaged in the submissive mindset.

But telling her not to curse would have diminished a little bit of what made Eliana his pretty little psycho, so he elected not to.

“As the weather changes, the concrete expands and retracts, like all materials.” John slowly, carefully dragged a specialized tool through the wet concrete. It had been poured, distributed, smoothened, and then brushed with a broom to give it some texture. Now he carefully moved from one segment to the next, ever vigilant not to introduce any indents to his wonderfully level slabs. As the groover travelled through the concrete, it left behind a trench. “Putting control cuts in the slabs lets the expansion go somewhere and prevents cracking. If you just have perfect slabs set into the walls, the expansion will have them grind against the walls.”

“…Crafty fuckers, humans,” Eliana mumbled, misanthropic hesitance underlying her words. “Fuck you, John!”

The tool hit one of the many wooden boards he had put up to contain the individual slabs. “Why?”

“This fucking vacation was supposed to be me going all savage now that we got out of the urine-reeking, human-infested hellhole that is New York City,” Eliana complained. “You can’t fucking show me impressive little things about the wretched creatures that cover this dirtball. That’s stupid and fucking unfair!”

“Humans did figure out how to make chocolate,” the Gamer reminded her.

“Ah! Fuck you, don’t connect my second favourite object to my second least favourite cunt assembly.”

“Do I need to spank you?” the Gamer asked. “Because I get the feeling that you’re going to tell me that your favourite and least favourite things are me and you respectively.”

“And what if we fucking are, huh?!” Eliana asked.

John stood up. Their height difference was initially negated by the pit he stood in. One large step brought him up to the edge, where Eliana stared at him eagerly. The top of her head was level with his collarbones. The novelty of this size difference being backed up by a strength one hadn’t worn off yet, especially not for Eliana. For John, it was gradually melding into the larger feeling of dominance he had over her. A week or two more and it would be just a different aspect of it all. For Eliana, it seemed to have awakened something a lot deeper and it wouldn’t have surprised him if she started doing this more even after they got back.

The explanation for this stark difference in importance to this was quite simple. To John, physical dominance had never been the primary enjoyment. There were a couple girls in his harem he had been capable of ‘forcing’ in whatever way he wanted before. That added a special something. More than that, the Gamer revelled in the psychological submission. He loved the obedience, the willing surrender to his demands. It tremendously inflamed his desires when a woman chose to yield all their autonomy to him. That they could reclaim that autonomy at any point, but chose not to, made it even better.

Eliana, on the other hand, had only experienced actual physical domination at the hand of Nathalia before. Additionally, she was not just any submissive in his harem, she was THE submissive, masochistic little crazy of his harem. At every point during their sessions, she could have snapped whatever bindings he put her in. While this was still true, there was an additional layer of self-imposed weakness there now. Where John got off on them trusting him with all they were, she enjoyed it immensely to entrust him with all she was. To have her only lifeline be the safe word, that was probably intoxicating to her.

Sadly, she still healed all spank marks within a couple of seconds. Her healing factor was so immense that even suppressed it did its work too quickly. Something that meant that she never, ever, could be allowed to get hurt in front of mundanes. Perhaps they should work on that.

For now, the Gamer bent her against the massive cement mixer. Getting the amount he needed for the house foundation mixed had been a multi-hour task and the machine, previously brand new, looked the part. Important was only that it was heavy enough to withstand Eliana winding up against it.

“Ah, thank you!” Eliana moaned when he smacked her round butt. “Harder, daddy!”

John withheld the second slap and instead pinched the bridge of his nose. Eyes clenched, like he was suffering a massive migraine, he stood there and wrestled down his irritation. “Why?” he wanted to know.

“Because I’m a bad girl?” Eliana cackled.

John let his hand drop. He blinked a couple of times, construction site dust now in his eyes. Although presented perfectly for further punishments of any kind, his mood was now thoroughly ruined. “Alright then, guess you’ll be treated like a bad girl,” the Gamer decided. He picked up the clothes that Eliana had left on the plastic chair she had been occupying whenever she watched him these past few days. “Cover up.”

“Aw, fuck me,” Eliana grumbled and caught her clothes. The Gamer crossed his arms over his cement-stained overall. She had lost that privilege. That was the punishment for those that used the Power Word Bonerkill. John had not been this flaccid since the first manifestation of his burnout.

Watching her get dressed did test his rage. Eliana was sexy as a brunette. Not that it really mattered what colour her hair or skin was, she had the body and the face to love in every case. That she always kept her choker on only made it hotter. The illusionary appearance was the secondary purpose of that thing.

“Can’t you be less fun to tease, you giant asshat?” the pretty little psycho complained.

“You know what you did,” the Gamer responded in a neutral tone. Getting agitated would only make her happy and horny. Instead, he turned back to the concrete.

As happenstance would have it, he was actually done with this step of construction. The cement was poured and resting. One continuous slab of concrete, stretching the entirety of the fundament. After five days of preparation, the first phase of cobbling his house together was done. He had to resort to some superhuman displays and a lot of help to get the cement spread out evenly before it started to harden. It was either that or getting an actual cement mixing vehicle and a construction crew. Between the two options, John had decided cheating a bit was better than calling for more help.

“How about we go meet the neighbours?” he suggested. For the next day and a half, the cement would harden out. Until then, there was nothing urgent that needed to be done.

“Can’t you torture me like a normal bad girl and string me up at the ceiling or some shit like that?” Eliana whined, likely sensing that he was not giving her a choice in the matter.

“That would work if you had been a normal bad girl, but you decided to use the forbidden word,” the Gamer chastised her. “Now I’m taking you to meet our Bible Belt neighbours. Be nice.”

Eliana wretched, her consistent disdain for religion coming to the surface. The Gamer didn’t expect to meet any intensely religious nuts. There was a higher chance out here than there was in most places. Zealots and proselytizers were still a rare breed.

“They’ll most likely look at us funny when we talk a lot about ourselves and lock away their daughters for good measure,” the Gamer gave his prediction.

“I’m betting on attempted lynching.”

“I’d have to seduce a local lady for that,” the Gamer reported and stripped out of his overall. Underneath, he wore a tightly sitting black shirt and comfortable work trousers. The clothes were special only by virtue of how expensive and new they looked. He left the overall hanging over the inert cement mixer and then led the way to the car.

“Aren’t we grabbing anyone else?” Eliana asked.

“I think we will cause a heart attack if we all rock up at once,” the Gamer told her. “Plus, I don’t want to make big introductions. I just want to let them know that the property is owned now. If they’re friendly, they’re friendly, and if not, then not. I expect people out here to be mindful of who owns what.”

“Fits the stereotype?” Eliana asked.

“It’s a lot more important to be mindful of the property if no one ever finds your body after your crazy neighbour shoots you for trespassing,” the Gamer presented his view.

“That’s fucking grim.”

“It’s realistic.”

“Didn’t fucking say I disagreed with you” Eliana cackled.

Most things in society could be explained with incentives. People reacted to what was expedient and what was dangerous. Logic paired with instinct for the ‘optimal’ survival strategy.

They hopped into opposite sides of the large car they had brought. Like most things, its shiny black exterior did not fit the rural landscape. Even if John was doing his best to emulate the lifestyle, that they were strangers was plainly visible. They were too affluent to ever really fit in.

Even driving, their closest neighbour was two minutes away. On foot, it would have cost them around ten minutes, and that was if they followed the road. The difficulty of the forest terrain would have doubled that distance. “What’s that?” Eliana asked, pointing at an out of place rock by the side of the road. It had been spray painted with a pink line.

“That’s the border marking between our property,” the Gamer explained. “I’d guess they put the stone up in the old days. Nowadays they just mark trees and other landmarks around the border with spray paint. We’ll have to do a round of that sometime this month. As land owners, we’re obligated to renew it every year.”

“Wait a fucking second, why the piss-guzzling throat whore do we have to do anything on our fucking land?”

The Gamer shrugged. “It’s either that or a fine. I dislike the idea of the state being able to tell me I have to do anything on my own ground on principle. This is at least a reasonable demand, though. You need to know where the border of the property is somehow. This beats putting fences up everywhere.”

Eliana hummed with heavy disagreement. Coaxing further comments out of her would have been unproductive. The pretty little psycho had a couple of strong opinions on matters of religion and politics, but mostly stayed out of discussions on both. She had a very anarchic ‘leave me the fuck alone’ mindset. John could respect that. He also realized that a couple of intrusive rules were needed so larger society could function. Population and mobility had long exceeded the point where everyone could trust each other on the basis of local reputation alone.

They arrived at their neighbour’s lot. It was similar in structure to their own, a clearing in the forest created a generation ago, containing a couple of structures. There were signs of constant activity around there, and the buildings had all been renovated in the last ten years. They had a chicken coup, a greenhouse, a garden patch, and about twenty cows and pigs. A modest farm, but a farm nonetheless.

They parked at the edge of the road and walked the rest of the way. What followed was a pretty eventless greeting of the neighbours. Eliana was on her best behaviour, which meant that she was holding onto his arm and trying her best not to be seen. It was adorable how shy she got around strangers she could not beat into a pulp.

Chats circled around the expected three topics. Why John was there, how long the family had been there, and what they were both doing. The Gamer was a bit evasive at first, wanting to ease these people into what was going on at his place. When he revealed that he was living with a whole harem, he was given a shocked look, particularly by the wife of the farm owner. Shocked was where it stayed. There were a couple of questions that could be interpreted as them making sure he was not going to be a permanent part of the local community. It was pretty clear they looked at him as an eccentric billionaire who did farming more as tourism than anything else.

As for them, they were exactly what it looked like. They ran the small farm, keeping expenses low by living off its daily produce and scraping by through the slaughter of cows and meat birds at the end of each season, making a particularly large profits off Thanksgiving turkeys. They casually admitted to having a couple of loans running.

More out of interest than niceness, John offered support for those loans. What they owed, he was one day in the Instant Dungeons away from earning ten times over. It honestly was ridiculous how rich he was. The suggestion was contemplated only for a short moment, before the man finally declared he would not take it. A typical and understandable display of pride.

The Gamer handed them another lifeline, and that one had the understandable reason of selfishness attached. In order to be EXTRA certain no one would bother him on his property, John told them he would be happy to buy this one. He made sure to tell them he wasn’t pressuring them for it. All he wanted was for them to know that, if they ever were considering to sell, he would pay a 25% markup on what a lot around these parts usually went for.

After leaving his number with them, they departed. John heard them talk to each other once they believed him out of earshot. While his strength and mobility was human, his senses were very much above that. “Whadda strange man,” the wife said, her voice thick with a particular variety of southern accent.

“Typical billionaire, they’re all insane,” the husband drawled, his voice had a gruff undertone from years of smoking. “Put that away in the bind’r. If he wants to throw money at us, we might as well consider… think I should’ve pointed ‘im at the Brooks?”

“Too far out, plus the geezer ain’t selling.”

‘I love the way people speak out here,’ the Gamer thought. The wife was a mid-forty woman that was definitely outside his preferred weight class, but that accent scratched a special part in his brain. It must have been the American inside him demanding at least one pronouncedly American girl in his harem. There was a lot of Asian in the looks and European dominated in culture descent, putting aside the girls that were not really from Earth at all.

The closest he had to an American member of his harem was probably Aclysia. Would the Founding Fathers cry if they knew that? Probably not. Considering the times, their views on USA nationalism would have likely been greatly diminished.

Interestingly, John was getting those various brain scratches a lot these days. Fresh air, the tumbling of wet cement, having a casual beer at ten in the morning, laying down in the middle of his shovelling and just dozing off for half an hour, all of those were incredible feelings. It was exactly what he had been craving: something new, something different, something for himself. The vacation was working wonders. Like so often, he wondered if there were any other things he could do to improve the experience.

“Maybe I should find myself a country girl while we’re out here,” the Gamer considered out loud. Like Velka when spotting a laser pointer, Eliana whipped her head around.

“…You fucking drive us back right now!” she demanded.

“I was just joking.”

“I know when you’re joking, you supremely horny semen dispensary, that one was serious.”

The Gamer blinked a couple of times. Had he been serious? ‘Huh, I wouldn’t have to ask myself that if there wasn’t a bit of it in there,’ he considered. “Well, I guess maybe I was a bit serious at least,” he admitted. “Anyway, let’s head home.”

The moment they were back, Eliana drummed everyone together.