The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

He found himself attending a gathering in his life he had not wished to attend.

She found herself there as well, wanting to be anywhere else, but right there, and right then. She was through with men of all types. They were pricks, the lot of them; put on the earth to make women miserable by causing themselves to be wanted. And when they’d gotten their wanting from some poor girl who had given them her best, they threw them aside like so much unwanted garbage, as if there were as useless and as unwanted as a child’s broken doll.

She’d satisfy herself from now on. She didn’t need them, or want them. They could fuck themselves silly and the weapons of desire of each and every male on the planet could drop off from dry rot, for all she cared. They were all as bad as that which hung between their legs, like the true snakes they really were. They were all pricks!

He saw her first, before she saw Him, but then she saw Him, too. He knew she had ‘seen’ Him, because of that look of unknowing recognition in her eyes. He also knew that she ‘knew’ He had seen her too, and for the very same reason.

Then she saw another one across the room staring at her. Another prick, like the one she was married to at the moment; the one who had brought her here to a place she did not want to go; one who was like all the others. Obviously this looker wasn’t satisfied with the fool woman he seemed to be with, whose heart he’d break in the flash of an erection to get into the pants of any stupid girl who took his eye.

No. They were never satisfied. Pricks! The lot of them. Let him look, for all the good it would do him. He had two chances of parting ‘her’ second set of lips with his probe—Buckley’s and fucking none! Nice eyes, though. Strange, and different. But nice. Too fucking bad for him, and his fucking strange eyes!

And ‘that’ was the only introduction needed between them. It was simply, the way. The rest would unfold naturally, as it was supposed to. Maybe, as destiny had already decreed it would.

He attended to His present mate, getting her a drink, handing it to her, smiling politely, and then seeing her settled comfortably. Yet all the while His thoughts were already being dominated by her presence there. He had not seen her before. She was not known to him as a friend of anyone He knew there. He had not expected another to ‘see’ him in that way. Nor had He expected to ‘see’ another.

She moved on, mingling with the crowd and not wanting to present herself to those eyes for another second. Why should she even give him the pleasure of her being there for him to look at and fantasize? She saw one woman she knew talking to a younger woman and moved that way; the wife of a friend of her prick of a husband. Probably the only other soul she knew here. At least He couldn’t see her now. Fuck him, and all of his stupid male mates.

Casually sipping his drink, which He had gotten for Himself, his steady, even eyes cruised the crowd of about thirty or so men and women, searching for her eyes again. But He did not see her. She had moved on, to some other location within the large, rambling house in the country of his boss and employer. It was the occasion of his employer’s wife’s birthday. The whole staff had been invited, along with friends of the staff, if they had wished to bring any.

Maybe that was how she came to be there, at the same time as He was? Yet, He had ‘seen’ her, had recognised her recognising Him. He knew that She knew, also that She did not know ‘why’ She knew, only that She knew. And ‘that’ was all that was needed. Because He knew now, too, as did She, wherever She was, that it was now only a matter of time; a matter of, not, ‘if’, but, ‘when’; a matter, not of, ‘how long?’, but, of, ‘how soon?’ Then he wondered why she had moved from his location and decided to seek her out.

Boring conversation with equally boring people. Christ! How can people talk such meaningless shit when there was so much more to life? She smiled politely, turning to see if she’d been followed by strange-eyes. No, probably got the message from her own hostile gaze. Good. God.

These woman’s eyes were dead, dead, dead; dead to the real life that was there, somewhere. Big deal. Why hadn’t she been able to find it then? Boring, boring, and boring. Dead eyes, dead, meaningless conversations, dead going-nowhere lives, just like hers, and all because of him, the prick! She was too good for him, and that was a fact. From where in hell did he think he think he’d gotten the god-given right to hit her, to make her face bleed, to cut her flesh like she was so much meat on a hook with no feelings, just to bash whenever he was having a fucking insecurity problem. Thank Christ for make-up.

Well, fuck him! Fuck them all, including these boring fucking women. She began to tune out to what they were talking about, and casually smiled and checked behind her again. Nothing. Thank Christ for that!

Smiling politely at His mate of the present, He moved casually away, chatting with people as He walked slowly through them, laughing and drinking. He was not forgetting that He had noticed, as it seemed usual for some time now; that look of complete complacency in the eyes of His present mate as He had left her to seek out the other.

Complacency. He hated it. Nothing and nobody should be ‘that’ sure of anything or anyone. Was it something about Him that made his present mate believe so surely that He would remain continued to be satisfied with what he truly believed was only her second best? His mate had given him of her best once, seemingly a long time ago now. She had lived and loved Him, had given of herself freely and willingly; had begged Him in the beginning to take her offerings, every way, and in all ways.

Now she offered only when she had a need herself, irrespective of his own, and even in doing so, She would now only lie there, doing His needs an utter injustice and humiliating disservice, such that He no longer wanted to join with her in that way, or in any way at all now, for that matter. It seemed she was blind to

His seeming indifference of her these days, and to her, of His unhappiness with her in her, in that she preferred instead to see only that which she wanted to see—that He would always be there for her. She was truly blind for someone He had previously thought was so astute. He shook his head sadly as he mingled through the crowd of happy people, His eyes seeking constantly the recognition of, and in hers.

She knew there was another life somewhere, like the one she was living right now while these two boring women raved on about absolutely nothing—in her thoughts, where she was safe and no-one could hit her, or hurt her anymore. Private property—keep out!

She was safe here. If no one wanted to care about her in the real world of prick men and fool women, she would care for herself in her own ‘real’ world, dreaming about whatever she wanted to without being told to get to work or do something or other to satisfy her husband’s need for personal attention whenever he felt the urge, and then forget she even existed as a person with hopes and dreams and special needs as well—hopes and dreams and special needs that were never met, and when they were it was meaningless.

All because she knew he didn’t really want her, only wanted to use her to satisfy his own needs, like hanging her on a hook and taking her off whenever he needed her, then hanging her back up again in the freezer until next time. No fucking wonder she felt so cold toward him.

The prick! As cold as fucking ice. Just wait ‘til the next time he tried to take her off the hook. He’ll fucking see! She didn’t need the likes of him or any man from now on in her life and she’ll be a darn sight better off on her own anyway. Alone and safe. Alone. Shit!

Alone at home. Alone in a crowded room. What was the fucking point of it all? Jesus, lady! Change the fucking subject before I throw up, right down your chest! She smiled and then casually turned and glanced quickly behind her.

“Expecting someone?” She was asked when she faced the boring twins again.

His present mate was wrong. He knew it, but she did not. She had lost respect. He had not. And it was a shame. They used to have a unique bond between them; one that, at the time, he had believed would endure forever. Yes. It was a shame. Now, He simply didn’t care. Things change. People change.

And then they moved on, to other people, and other places, where they were more happy, and more content. Where was she? He moved on. He wondered many things as He continued to casually seek her out, chatting to those known to Him, greeting new friends as they were introduced to Him. What was she like? He hadn’t noticed if she had been arm in arm with a mate earlier, when He had first seen her. What was she thinking right now-this very second-now that she had seen Him, knowing that she had recognised Him in that way, and He, Her? Her eyes seemed to smoulder at Him. He remembered that and it spurred Him on to find her.

Then she was there, talking and smiling politely with a woman and a man, with no other male was near her, or about her. He waited, knowing she had not seen Him this time. He remained behind her, to wait and to watch for any sign of another male-Her mate, maybe. But after fifteen minutes there had been no-one. He decided to move forward into her line of sight so that She would see Him, so they could progress to the next level of introduction,—rapport.

“No.” She answered the elder of the boring twins who had spoken to her. Then she listened attentively as they dropped quickly into top gear over some stupid thing that nobody in the world would have given a shit about hearing, probably even themselves if they weren’t at this lifeless fucking party for someone she didn’t even know, let alone care too standing erections about.

She felt the skin prickle on the back of her neck and along her forearms. She shivered. Jesus. What was that?

Then her mate suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, arriving before He had even finished the thought of moving toward her. Not too tall, he was, standing beside her. Not as tall as ‘He’ was. He seemed weak of mouth and chin, no doubts about him having the same character that went with those feature traits; a controller through intimidation, through humiliation and degradation, and probably even physical violence to get his own way. A dis- respecter of things he believed he owned like chattel.

He strained through the din of the crowd and listened as her mate spoke over the top of her in conversation, laughing stupidly at his own words. He sensed the smile had vanished quickly from her mouth and face, also from the faces of those with whom She had been previously been speaking who had seemed jovial.

She listened, but she did not hear, or tried not to, anyway. Hard not to though when he was right there in her face, telling his stupid joke to make himself look good in front of the boring twins.

His eyes told a different story though. She knew he was angry because she wasn’t hanging off his arm like an amulet, for show to his boss and everyone else. A show- pony. Look but don’t touch. This woman is ‘owned’ by me. Like fucking hell! She had deliberately separated herself from him when he had been engaged in conversation by three men earlier, hoping he would get lost and fall in the pool and drown or some other such natural or unnatural disaster. Any minute now. Any second now, but she didn’t care.

She started to tune out, knowing he couldn’t hurt her anymore, even with public humiliation. What was that compared to slapping her silly and cutting her face? Twice now? She gritted her teeth as he began, tuning out even further, and smiling inwardly as the faces of the boring twins began to lose their false smiling masks with the onslaught of his abusive tirade and showing of public ownership. She didn’t give a shit. Not a single shit.

Who was he anyway, to her? Nothing! Like all the rest. Nothing! She was better than all of them, better than every prick in the world!

Her mate had obviously dampened their jocularity with his arrival. Now all appeared to want him gone. He watched as Her mate then moved away, smiling falsely, his hand gripping Her forcibly by the soft flesh of her upper arm, steering her his way and that, whether She wanted to go or not.

These things He saw and He interpreted. Her face and features were hidden from Him fully now. Her back was to Him as her mate stopped, turned and faced her. He spoke now with a serious face, a cruel face, a threatening face—the weak face of one who liked to stand over, to rule, to control improperly, and to intimidate. He also noticed she did not hang her head in submission or subservience. Her shoulders were set square and firm as her mate spoke on in an obvious angry tone.

Ass-hole! The fucking ass-hole. Man-handling her like that-like a piece of meat, and in public, too! His grip had hurt, too. Fuck him! How ‘dare’ he treat her like that? Then she calmed a little, simmering like a volcano beneath the surface of her fixed smiling face and features.

What did she really care now, anyway? He had no real power over her, except that which she gave him. Stupid fucking woman that she was. She was mentally already out of his life and times, so what did it matter? She just hadn’t quite figured out how to take the first step yet, but she fucking-well would soon. Of that, there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever!

He was history as far as she was concerned, no matter how much she was letting him get away with at the moment—no matter how big a fool he was trying to make of her in this public display of ownership and possession. She stared right through him, the verbal assault sliding right off her like water off a duck’s back. She set her shoulders and gritted her teeth. What did it matter? What did anything matter?

Then suddenly, she had a strange thought. “Offense was the best form of defence.” it said to her quietly in the back of her tuned out mind. And right there and then, in the middle of his sentence, his abuse, his tirade that was seeing his face grow more red by the second, right there and then in the middle of her own life and times, that she, if no one else, cared a lot about, she spoke, and then felt very good about herself for the first time in a very long time.

Something ‘did’ matter after all. ‘She’ mattered! She fucking-well mattered! She smiled at him then, with her eyes narrowing and her gaze hardening, already feeling wonderfully free before she even opened her mouth to speak.

“Fuck! ... Off!” She spat at him with the forced, quiet, deadly hiss and venom of a lethal rattle snake.

He saw she held her head high, as best as He could see from behind her. He could imagine the defiance in her gaze, along with her jaw muscles as they probably ground upper molars against lower molars in suffering endurance of He who would treat her that way in public.

Yes. He could imagine her face, but He wanted to see it, to gaze into her eyes so she could know Him truly before He became formally introduced to her. Then suddenly, her mate stopped talking, his mouth hanging down in what seemed to be stunned silence.

Then he spun on his heels, glanced instantly left and right, then turned quickly and walked away, leaving Her there, alone. For a few seconds He wondered what had happened. He saw her head shake slowly from side to side, then hang down a little way, but only for a few seconds before rising high and proud again, as one would see and expect when in defiance of a tyrant.

He watched on as her head slowly turned to the left, and then slowly, casually to the right. Was she seeking Him out? He then felt a long-forgotten familiar stirring, a sensing; buried under the years of His previous bonding to another it now yearned and surged within Him, empowering like waves of a slow burning, a feeling of something simmering, smouldering once again, slowly uncoiling, within His mind, and within

His loins. It empowered Him fully, awakening Him once again, as it always had in the old days; the days before bonding to His present mate. His pulse quickened slightly as He watched her gaze from behind her head slowly searching from left to right, and then back again to repeat the process casually. And then His senses spoke to Him from within. The times was now. This was the place, He was the Master yet to come and to bond with her ... and she was the one.

She felt unchained, released, free at last, not really believing how she felt empowered at that moment. How strong, and how enlightened. She should have done that years ago. Fuck him! Fuck them all! Fuck all men! The pricks!

She looked casually from side to side like a predator, and feeling like one in every sense, searching without searching to any observing eyes, searching for a certain pair of strange and different-looking eyes—eyes who couldn’t see that she was a human being and deserved to be fucking-well treated with respect!

Where was he? It was time she taught a few people a few lessons, starting with him, the prick! He, whoever he was, was going to have a fucking bad-hair day when, and if she saw him again. Ogle her, will he? As if he, too, found her as just another attractive piece of meat on display in the store, to be stared at, and then prodded and plundered, and then slapped and humiliated like a fucking non-person when her unique novelties had worn off?

Where the fuck was he with his strange eyes and filthy fucking thoughts of coring her with his pole of hot iron? She’d shove it right up his fucking ass and out the top of his fucking head! Where was he? Come on, ass-hole! Where the fuck are you? Come to mama and meet your fucking destiny. Come to mama and get the surprise of your boring and meaningless fucking life!

He focussed His empowered gaze squarely on the back of her head and into the centre of her mind, heart thumping in anticipation of that which was soon to come. Her head slowly stilled in its unknowing predatory travels. He willed his presence there, inside her subconscious mind, from instinct.

And it all came back as naturally as His now deepening breathing. It had never really left Him, only lain dormant until needed once more, as it was now. And then He was there.

The hair on the back of her neck and on her forearms prickled and stood up as if someone had just walked over her future grave, juts as it had earlier on in the evening. She shivered from the top of her spine all the way down between her buttocks, such that her sphincter muscle twitched and her cheeks clamped powerfully closed.

She searched the faces of those around her to the left and right, but saw nothing. But the feeling was still with her. She felt ten feet tall after telling her now-ex-husband what planet to relocate to, but she felt also strange, as if she was not alone, inside herself. Her heart thumped and her anger grew steadily stronger.

What the fuck was going on here? Why did she feel all goose-bumpy? And then she knew. She just knew. The ass-hole with the weird fucking eyes. He was behind her! He had to be! She could ‘feel’ him behind her, and even in her head. She slowly deepened her breath, filling her lungs to capacity and breathed it out again in a long slow hiss as she turned very slowly and deliberately to face him.

Come on, ass-hole! Come to your next and last fucking mama! She turned slowly to face him; first with her head leading the way, then her shoulders, followed by her hips, and finally her legs and feet.

It all seemed to Him as if she moved in slow motion. He waited until She had fully turned, His gaze never leaving hers for an instant, as soon as one met the other, hers never leaving his, either. Her eyes blazed fury, while He kept his own soft, receptive and warm, holding back the natural strength of them until needed.

The instinctive memories all came flooding back to Him from the depths of His subconscious mind. They were needed now. His mind must have sensed it. His sphincter muscle flexed and twitched, surging His loins. His heart steadied itself in knowing. And then her gaze met His in deadly earnest for the first time in their mutual knowing and future bonding.

He broke their gaze while hers was still demanding as to the reason for His presence. He searched for the right spot to take her to for their initial knowing, their initial bonding.

Then He saw it, a quiet spot, well away from prying eyes, yet still within four walls of the house, just near the poolside door. He glanced back slowly, His gaze receptive and soft, still waiting in silent and powerful strength. Before answering her with His eyes did

He again glanced over at the chosen spot, and then slowly back to her still-demanding and threatening eyes once more. Smiling inside then, He watched her gaze leave His, briefly, travelling to where His had been previously. Then she returned her gaze to focus on him.

He moved His head again, slowly, yet this time did not yield His gaze from hers. He watched as she looked twice more at the spot, then back at Him, her eyes glowing white orbs boring two holes in his head. Then slowly, she turned and moved casually toward His especially chosen site.

Even though he looked halfway decent she knew he was a prick, already telling her what to do and where to go, signalling with his eyes. She had given him her best ‘fuck-off’ look that had always worked on her husband when she didn’t want him to come near her, but it hadn’t worked for some reason.

She had expected to see that killer or hunter look in his face, but mainly in his eyes, but it wasn’t there. They had been soft, warm, not even inviting even. She had felt even more angry at the thought that even this prick didn’t have that hungry-for-her look in his eyes and was about to storm off to another part of the house when she suddenly calmed once again, her defiance of men in general spurring her anger and defence to even greater heights in her mind and body.

She felt her jaw set hard and fast, her teeth grinding against each other in her determination. Okay big boy. Want to play, do we? I’ll fucking play with you alright. You want me to go over there? Away from all the people? All the prying eyes? So you can touch me, and humiliate me, and maybe slap me around a little bit, just for your own fun, and have your wicked completely with me?

Sure. Okay. I’ll go there, right now. You follow me, ass-hole, and get fucking used to it! By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll wish you never fucking-well laid eyes on this little fox! Follow me, ass-hole. Let’s.. fucking .. party!

He followed casually, but only after She had arrived and glanced back at Him by turning her head to look. He had watched her move over there with the deliberate grace of a black panther, her gait padding, slinking more than walking or stepping, each pace chosen and deliberately, yet casually placed, one after the other, to the exact bearing of her weight, almost as if she was stalking a prey.

He knew She had known He had walked every step with her, had felt Him, sensed His presence in silent, yet unspoken and undemonstrated strength exuding from their first eye contact, their first meeting. He walked slowly and casually past where She stood waiting behind the partitioned wall, positioning himself lazily against the edge of the door, such that He could see behind Her, and any who might enter their space unannounced. She could only see Him, the wall, and the blackness through the door to His left side.

He leaned back against the opened door, His face remaining calm, yet serious, and His gaze settling squarely on her own. Her face was full of fury and hostility, of defiance and inner strength, and a lot of it, it seemed, not the face of a woman who had initial questions, of wanting to know, to ask. He said nothing, nor did He intend to.

He deepened His gaze subtly, slowly into Hers, trancing down within Himself and His own natural instincts. His sphincter flexed powerfully again within His surging loins as he saw Her face remain frozen in time. Now He would know Her, fully and wholly, yet without touching a hair on Her head.

His face was serious. His eyes were sort of milky and deep, but soft and focussed as they held her own, not lecherous as she had been expecting. So far, He hadn’t said a word. She had been expecting the usual come-ons she had heard before at parties with her husband, but they hadn’t come. She felt powerful and strong, but somehow a little afraid of his silent soft eyes.

She also felt as if he was invading her privacy, somehow—her private person, and that made her fume inside her mind. Why didn’t he say something? Well, it didn’t matter anyway. He was on borrowed time as far as she was concerned. If that was how he wanted to play it, she could play at that game too. She’d take him down whether he was fucking speaking to her or not.

She was determined to leave this party now, and whatever was left of her life, in a blaze of fucking glory! Give it your best shot, ass-hole, she thought angrily as she hardened her own gaze. You’re not that fucking good! And you’re in for the ride of your fucking life! Ha! And you’ll ‘still’ go home without getting into my nest! You prick!

He deepened His gaze within Hers, already feeling himself grow to his masculine maturity within the expanding trunk of His length and girth as He felt His way mentally and psychically beneath her clothes. The intensity of His gaze left nothing to be discovered. She was with Him. He believed this without question, in faith without doubt.

And in that way and manner did He proceed with Her bonding induction. His breathing deepened and His pulse quickened as He mentally felt the swelling warmth of her soft, underbelly breasts, already swelling with Her own deepening breaths and soft rousing panting. Jesus! He could ‘feel’ Her, there, in Her heart. It seemed to thump in His right hand, in His mind and senses. And in His mind did He then take

Her nipples, one after the other, firmly, knowingly rolling them between fingers and thumbs, to elongate, to fill, to pleasure, and to let Her know of His arrival truly on her private person. He watched, aware She seemed to suck in a huge breath at His mental touch of Her breasts and stiffening nipples. Her mouth dropped open, Her gaze glanced quickly down, momentarily to her bosom, to see, then quickly looked back to Him.

He locked and loaded Her gaze fully into His, knowing She would not look away again, no matter how much she fought his intimate invasion of her mind and body, not unless He permitted it. He encouraged by inner and outer focus the strength and the power of His gaze to be as strong as any spoken power word of implied suggestion.

At His mind’s first touch of Her did He then begin to draw Her breasts to him with both hands, pulling them firmly away from Her chest, holding, kneading, caressing, and lifting. He held Her gaze while deepening His own, knowing She ‘knew’ what He was doing with Her, and ‘to’ Her. He was ‘feeling’ her breasts, ‘fondling’ them sensually, sexually, and completely without Her permission, in a raw, unadulterated and very sensual manner that He knew Her ‘feeling’ mind, Her subconscious mind would like ... and would most surely respond to. And She did.

She was livid. Her absolute anger and pure shock at what she was feeling, being made to feel somehow knew no bounds every experienced before in her entire life. What the fuck was going on? It both terrified and angered her at the same time. She felt confused, knowing what she felt was as real as if he were actually touching her. She tried to scream at him, but nothing happened. Only in her own mind did she hear her own voice, or did she?

She wanted to turn and run quickly away from him and out of that house and life as fast her trembling, shaking legs would carry her, but she couldn’t. For some reason she was rooted to the spot. She tried again, but it was no use. And all the time she ‘felt’ his touch on her breasts, holding them roughly, squeezing her soft flesh. She felt pain in both her nipples and couldn’t believe it.

What was going on? Her mind screamed at them both. What the fuck was going on here? Please! She felt terrified and horrified in the same instant, but was so intensely shocked and hostile she would not give in and cower like a beaten dog. She had experienced enough of that from her husband. Her violent temper and determination flared and surged within her mind.

Fuck you! She screamed at him silently, frightened again by the lack of sound from her lips and mouth. Fuck you! You prick! Her every sense of survival instincts strained to the max to wrench herself free of the hold he had over her. You fucking prick!

Her chest and stomach heaved as her hatred for men all over fed her inner strength. You won’t win! In her mind she twisted and she turned, screamed and shouted and yelled at all the men in the world who had ever hurt or intimidated her in any way. You fucking-well won’t win, you bastard! You fucking lousy bastard!

He saw Her face flush from Her neck to Her forehead as His own breathing deepened unconsciously yet again when He squeezed and kneaded the soft underbelly of each firm, full breast in His mental hands. He imaged strongly Her soft, private flesh stiffening, erect nipples, heaving flesh, as His lips closed about it hungrily, fully, to suckle strongly upon, while he continued to lift and to weigh, to caress and to squeeze gently, yet firmly.

He felt Her strength in resistance surge and grow, then weaken and subside, and then surge and rise up against His own power over Her mind and senses again. She was yet to know how much He could and would eventually care for Her, if only She wouldn’t resist Her bonding now. He was determined not to let Her leave his life, now that nature had led Her to Him.

He relaxed inside himself and willed his own inner strength to greater heights, countering each of her surging attacks in resistance. Her lips parted as She began to draw each huge breath through Her open mouth in what seemed to be short, sharp pants of a quickening nature. Jesus!

He consciously wanted Her now—’all’ of Her, but He knew He had to take His time, guided by His own instincts. Soon enough, after the bonding had been completed he would know every inch of Her mind and body before He would allow Her to go from Him, to make up Her own mind as to Her future, with or without Him. Christ! He was so hard, so full, and so rampantly rigid for Her to see, to touch, to ‘feel’ and to hold.

Imaging Himself there, in his swollen and bursting loins, he willed Her to see, to ‘feel’ Him ... there. He felt His eyes glaze and His inner strength over Her rise up intensely from within his mind, surging strongly once again, trapping Her there, empowering Himself and Her from within His own rapidly rising libido. His testicles felt like two huge and swollen, bursting power-packs.

She fought desperately against Him. He ‘felt’ the fury of each forced violation and intimate invasion surge from Her mind like the surf crashing on a sandy shore. And with that, She suddenly surprised Him by breaking His visual hold to glance down at Him, there, for several long seconds while She gasped and panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly as She stood there, open-mouthed and staring.

She could not comprehend what was happening to her, what she was feeling him doing to her, and with her, both her mind and her body. His own body part she had seen clearly in her mind, as if it were there, right in front of her face. She had not only seen it grow between his legs, she had ‘felt’ it grow, almost as if it were a part of her own body.

God! What was happening to her. She was terrified to the core of her being. She had somehow grown with it with every pulsing, lengthening, thickening inch. She had tried desperately to break his hold at every turn, sometimes feeling as if she were just about to tear loose at any second, only to be dragged back into his strength, his power once again. Christ, nnnoooo!

He was everywhere on her! Her breasts! His lips! How? Nnnnooooo! She screamed over and over again, confused, her senses spinning crazily, held together in remaining sanity only by her sheer volatile will to fight and exist as a human being.

She broke his gaze then. Her eyes rocketed straight to his crotch, and she saw. She felt. Oh god! Nnooo! She could feel him. She was there, holding him, touching him, feeling him, warm and hot. My god!‘ Oh god! Alive! He was alive there. But she was here! How! Oh god. Pulsing in her hand. Oh god! God! Nooo!

Then Her eyes snapped back up to his, not believing anything. It was all crazy, not happening. Not to her. It couldn’t be. No, please god! Not to her! Her head spun like a whirlpool, making her feel weak and strong at the same time. Her senses screamed as loud as they could, but she heard not a sound. She struggled fiercely, physically, but nothing worked. Her panic started to mix with her terror and bloody hatred.

Nnnnnnooooooooo! You wonnnnnn’t, you fucking prick! She bellowed and cried almost hysterically as she felt his mouth on her breasts and nipples, sucking. Firm, lifting and squeezing them. She could feel him there, on her, over her, his hot mouth, his lips.

Oh no! Nnnnoooo!

But her screams came from her struggling mouth as silent gasps only. She couldn’t break free of his hold on her physical body for all she tried. But she refused to give in, to let him beat her. She wouldn’t. She would die first. I won’t let you! She howled her anguish at him and every man in the world who had ever hurt her. I won’t let you!

And onward she struggled and fought him valiantly, even though she felt herself weakening. I won’t let you! She screamed at him again and again and again, over and over, fighting on still. God, she was so hot, so thirsty, for him. Nooo! Ohh nno! Not for him! Hot! And thirsty! For it! Nnnnooo! God! Not for him! Not for him! Her hatred surged and swelled like a hurricane, powering her to hate each moment with a passion so unworldly.

When She looked up again, Her lips were visibly dry, Her mouth, panting and more loosely open, such that He could see Her pink tongue resting, coiled behind Her lower teeth, as if waiting to strike out quickly to moisten Her full, red lips, which it quickly then did, as soon as Her gaze locked back onto His.

Like a death-adder snake in search of its prey, Her long, firmly-pointed tongue shot out and over and around both full, deep ruby lips, twice, leaving them glistening in its slippery wake before it recoiled and withdrew behind the ivory gates of Her gleaming white teeth, to wait for the next time it was needed to quench her body’s inner and very physically rising thirst for Her own moisture ... of any kind.

He was bonding with Her truly now in Her induction, and He knew She knew it. She just did not ‘know’ She knew it. Yet He knew Her body’s mind did. Her mind would be full of the images of Him, now that She had only just seen and imagined in all His full and standing splendour. This, He knew, sensed, and sincerely felt, physically, in His own core.

And in Her mind He ‘wanted’ Her to hold Him there, to grip Him firmly, closing her own mental fingers firmly around His standing length and girth, while He continued to nurse Her breasts to their fullest capacity in His strongly-envisioned hands.

Between His pressing fingers and thumbs was He now kneading each nipple and its adjoining soft under-belly flesh in full, until, in Her mind and senses, they were crying out individually for His touch to firm, to grip strongly and squeeze to the point of pain, yet to stop just short in exquisite pleasure.

And with Her own growing fullness vivid in mind would She now slide and squeeze that fully-standing part of Him which She held, long slender fingers furling and unfurling, like skilful hands on the teat of a heavily-uddered cow, feeling His main vein, the very thick, pulsating one, milking Him, caressing Him there, His lance, wrapping around and releasing, then wrapping around again, and then releasing, yet to grip and stroke and slide again and again, upwards, and then slowly downwards on His pole ready for Her needs, to be used when She was ready for Him. And soon, would She be just that—ready, and very, very accepting.

She struggled and she fought, but she also knew she was failing. Not just in strength alone. Something was happening. What? Something? Oh god! Nnoo! She was holding him. Wrapping her fingers around him. And wanting to.

No! She didn’t! She didn’t! No! She did! Oh god! So thick and hot. Noo!‘ So warm and throbbing! Oh please god! Oh please. So good. Mmmm. Yessss! Noooo! Ooooooohhh! Yeesssssss! Fight! Please! Fight! Fight! No! Why? Aaaahhhh! She was trying so hard, but was starting to lose what she was trying to achieve.

She knew, She knew. Yes. Fight. For him. Yes. Noooo! Not him! Not him! Nnnoo! In my hands. Ohh, yessss. Inside of me. He’s there. Now. Oh god! How? Oh god! No! No! Fight! Yes! Yes! Fight! For him! Yes! Fight for him! God! So long and hot and throbbing and soooo thick and pulsing in her hands, stroking, feeling, wrapping around and releasing. Mmmmmmmmm. Ohhhhh! Ohhhh! Nooo! Yes! No!

She was so confused. She knew it, but a part of her held on, prepared to fight to the death for her own identity. But why? Fight for what? For what? For him? For him? Why? Not for him! Yes. Fight for him! He wanted her to. But why? Why? NO! NO! NO! Like fucking hell! ‘Like fucking hell! And she fought him mentally like a mad woman possessed.

Her inner strength came to her rescue once again, flaming her senses to a brilliant white fire. It surged and crested in her mind and body. She felt her strength returning. Clarity returned. She saw him. From the outside and the inside she saw him. And she continued to fight him for all she was worth, and at that point she felt she was worth more to herself than she had ever felt in her life before. She knew. She knew. He was coming for her. He was! She wanted him to.

NO! NO! NO! She didn’t! Did she? NO! Oh god! Oh god! Did she? She did. She did. Why? She did! Because he ‘wanted her to! That’s why. No! NO! Ohhhh. God! Ooohh, yesss. Ooohhh, Jeesuuuss! Yeesss! NO! NO! NO! Oh, yes! Oh yes! Mmmm. Ohhhhh. Yeeesssssss. Warmmmmmmm. Safe. Tired. No more fighting.

Tired. Need you. Please. Need you. Want you. Mmmm.yyeessss. Mmmm.ohhhh, yesss. She was floating now, on a cloud, high in the heavens of his eyes. Why? Ohhh.She felt soooogoooodd. Mmmm. Sooo good. NO! Ooohhhhh! Tired! Yeesssss. Mmmmmmm. NO!

He studied Her flushed and obviously-inner-heated face. She was almost ready for him...down ‘there’, in Her secret place. The room and all who were in it had disappeared from His awareness as He tranced down inside Himself, His own deepening awareness now allowing nothing to enter His thoughts and feelings, arousal or sensations, save for those of Her.

He deepened His gaze, drawing Her in and down and down even further again. He sensed She sensed what was happening, sensed Her trying to break His gaze, but he would not allow it now, deepening it yet further again, trying by instinct to take Her down with Him to the next phase of Her bonding.

Then suddenly, Her eyes glazed within their own fullness of what should have been Her own empowered, sensual thoughts of Him. They settled slowly at half-mast, yet smouldered openly in their cat-like appearance, fully exposed of their inner desires to know and to be known, fully and completely.

At that point in time He knew He had succeeded with His first mission, the first phase of Her bonding to Him. He had led Her, and He had paced Her, coercing her breathing to match His, Her brainwaves to rhythm His. Now, Her breathing was fully attuned, completely in time with His; deep, and becoming gradually more rapid and more shallow as Her sensual and sexual arousal rose very rapidly with His.

He was leading Her now, and She was following, subconsciously at first, then consciously. And now, She had finally and fully followed Him to Her waiting destiny; the next stage of Her bonding. He had won the first round. Her induction had been complete, and utter. Now He would utilise Her tranced state, and He would utilise it, and Her, in such a way, so as to bond Her to Him subconsciously for as long as She wanted consciously to remain that way.

If She did, then there She would stay, happy and content, for the term of her natural life. If She did not, He would release Her back to herself, to go Her own way, without Her ever knowing that He ‘could’ have kept Her with Him, in timeless bondage, had He so wished. Yet, keep Her in forced bondage He would not. For then no true bond between them would exist, only control. They, as a bonded pair would not exist. And so, in the fullness of time would His power over Her fail and desist.

He deepened His gaze, strengthening it from deep within Himself at the name time. Yes. She would choose to stay in bondage, or She would choose to go. It was as simple and as quickly done as that.