The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Discipline and Reward

A Love Story

Disclaimer: Standard “free porn” disclaimers apply. If you are too young, or don’t like pr0n, or just aren’t into my kinks ... go away.

Chapter 13. In which a dinner guest behaves rudely

The timing sucked but I had to force Majestic Woman to take another two-day leave of absence just two days into the hopeless hunt for Powerhouse. I needed her full attention for that “rack of lamb” dinner guest. Besides that, she was probably going to be in rough shape after this dinner thing. She would need some extra down time to recover. Not that I was going to let her know that.

Blake and Claud were both livid. How could she leave now? But ultimately they had no choice. She was going. This was the thing she had been afraid of back when she was trying to resign. It was not happening “in the heat of battle”, but even so ... Her teammates, her friends, they needed her, but Her Lord called so she had to abandon them.

* * *

In the penthouse, it was mid-morning. I wasn’t there, but Julia was. She was dressed, oddly enough, in restaurant-style kitchen whites.

“Oh Cindi. Thank Gawd you’re here! Master decided at the last minute that he wants me to cook and serve, and he wants you to show me what to do. He wants you to teach me everything. Is that even possible?“

Cindi was confused. “Wait. What will I be doing?“

“I think he wants you to, um, ’entertain the guest’. But could we please not think about that now?” She grabbed Cindi by the shoulders. The Aussie girl’s eyes laughed and pleaded at the same time as she realized what she was about to say, “Help me, Majestic Woman! You’re my only hope!

“Okay, okay. It’s all going to be just fine, Julia. Calm down. We’ve got all kinds of time. I just need to know where to start. Do you cook much at all?”

“Sure, I cook for Fred and m’self, but he doesn’t like to eat fancy much: fish and chips, pie and sauce, steak and potatoes. Nothing like ... this.“

“Have you ever made a big holiday meal? Christmas? Easter? Anything like that?”

“I always helped Mum?”

“Okay, It’s gonna be a bit like that, except now you’re ‘Mum’.”

“Ugh, she’d get a chuckle or two out of that if she were here now.“

And so they got down to business. Cindi gave Julia complete instructions, verbally and in writing, with copious notes. They walked through all the steps over and over again. They practiced every technique that was even slightly out of the ordinary. Every flick of the wrist. Every flip, every swish of a pan. Every moment when Julia would have to pay attention to three or four things at once.

After five grueling hours for Julia, she felt like she had already made this dinner ten times. She was as ready as she would ever be, and they both knew it. It was now two and a half hours before dinner, and Julia had things to do.

Cindi stayed and helped until they heard my key in the lock. Julia said, “Go,” but Cindi was already gone, prostrate on the floor before I could even get the door open. She was welcoming me home, seducing my shoes with soft, steamy kisses. She didn’t notice the small flat wooden box I was carrying.

“Cindi, I need your attention.”

She rose up, hugging my leg and gazing up at me with complete adoration. I had to shake my head, to school myself to stay focused.

“Remove your collar. Tonight I wish to impress our guest with some decoration to complement the natural beauty of my slave.” I opened the box. Inside was a priceless necklace of gold, diamonds, and lapis lazuli.

“For ... for me, My Lord?”

“No, baby bitch, for me. For me to display on my property. Are we clear?“

“Y-yes, My Lord. Please forgive me—”

“Take. Off. Your. Collar.”

«“Less talk, more action.“» Off came the collar. She used it to help hold her hair out of the way while I fastened the necklace. The jewels formed a triangle below her throat pointing toward, but not into, the deep valley between her tits. The lapis and gold offset her olive skin perfectly. The diamonds glittered with her eyes. Cleopatra herself could not have worn this bauble more elegantly. In spite of myself I smiled at her. She couldn’t stop touching it.

“Put away the collar.”

She hurried to put it on the dresser in the bedroom, then lingered, looking into the mirror.

“Stop admiring yourself. We have things to discuss.”

She hurried back, kneeling, eyes downcast, chest proudly out-thrust to display my property, all of my property.

“Tonight you will help me entertain our guest in any way that I might demand. Is that clear?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“He is an arrogant and crude man in some ways but very persuasive in others, so I want you to remember this: Even if I turn you over to him, you will still always obey my instructions first. Do you understand?“

She couldn’t imagine how someone could make her forget her loyalty to me, but still she answered, “Yes, My Lord.”

“When he comes to the door greet him exactly as you attempted to do with Julia when you met her last week. You will remain polite and deferential no matter what. Do not embarrass me. Make me proud.“

Now she was even more puzzled at these strange instructions, but she responded with confidence, “Yes, My Lord. I live to make you proud.”

“We’ll see. We have about a half hour. Come help me pass the time.” She followed me to the sofa, eyes lighting up as I ordered her to take out my cock and blow me.

* * *

Her effort was no less enthusiastic, even with the necklace. However, after a while I did notice that she was using one hand to hold down, to protect, the necklace while her head bobbed up and down over my groin.

I didn’t allow her to cum when I did, which disappointed her, but she didn’t let it show. Good girl. As she was making her third pass at tongue-cleaning me, the doorbell rang. She hurried to answer it.

Opening the door from her knees, she immediately curled up into a humble ball. “Welcome, Sir, to My Lord’s home. Please enter and make yourself at home.”

The guest reached down and lifted her up by the chin. He looked her in the eye appraisingly.

“This isn’t her! What game are you playing, Master,” the last word said almost contemptuously.

For her part, Cindi was in shock. «Ares! What is he doing here? How can I defend mys—“Polite and deferential” “Make me proud.“»

The seeds had their intended effect. Although inwardly she was deathly afraid, facing her greatest enemy with none of her powers, outwardly she calmed herself. She did not fight him. She did not try to pull away from his powerful grasp.

Ares was attired as a Greek warrior: battle tunic, bronze breastplate, sturdy sandals. No weapons though. His weapons were the powers given to him by the “Gods”: strength, rapid healing, flight, limited invisibility, and one more thing. He had the ability to cause humans to feel strong passionate emotion, mostly lizard brain stuff: rage, fear, lust, greed.

The Shield of Athena had always protected Cindi from Ares’ manipulations in the past. Of course, she had no shield here. She was defenseless. She was at his mercy.

“Let go of her, Ares. Let. Go. Now.”

The rogue God obeyed Cindi’s God/Lover. Cindi struggled to calm herself further. She wanted to believe I would protect her, but she knew just how powerful Ares was.

“It’s not her,” maintained Ares, more indignant than before, “As many times as we’ve fought did you think I wouldn’t recognize her?”

“Oh? Tell me then,” I chided, “the last time you and I ‘spoke’ would anyone have recognized the body you were wearing?“

Ares shivered a shiver that Cindi recognized immediately.

«Ares has experienced My Lord’s “Discipline”. So why isn’t he kneeling and begging to serve like I do? Is Ares made of stronger stuff than me after all?»

«“No, Cindicunt, he’s just insane. It’s harder to tame a madman. I’ve had to settle for teaching him manners.“»

Then aloud, “Cindi, tell him exactly who you are.” «“Just the way you did when you first met him.“»

Cindi was still trembling. She was truly afraid of the mad “god”. But she knew to whom she would have to answer. She obeyed me. She looked steadily up into Ares’ eyes. She remembered their first meeting in the air over the British Channel, with death and destruction raining down all around them. She had seen him when no one else could. He was hovering above the water. Enjoying his handiwork, the mayhem he had wrought.

She spoke to him now as she had then, proudly, angrily. “I am Kynthia, Daughter of Hippolyta, Royal Princess of the Amazons.”

“Zeus’s Lightning!” Ares’ eyes grew wide and wild. Now he was the one remembering. Defeat upon humiliation upon narrow escape, all at the hands of this arrogant Amazon bitch. “Come, ‘Daughter of Hippolyta’. We have things to ... discuss.“

“Stay right where you are, Cindi.” Then to Ares, “Dinner will be served soon. Why don’t we have a drink? What would you like?”

“Bourbon.”

“Sorry, no bourbon. Gin, vodka, scotch, akvavit, irish, three flavors of schnapps, three or four different cordials ...”

“Scotch, neat.”

“Cindi, scotch on the rocks for me. Go.”

I directed Ares to the “comfy chair” beside the couch.

Cindi returned shortly, bearing two drinks in trembling hands. She knelt and set mine down on the coffee table so that she could present the tumbler to Ares.

She knelt before him, holding out her offering. “Your drink, S-sir.”

“I like you like this, Majestic Tits,” He touched her face, her chin. He examined her necklace, “Your Master has adorned you nicely, slave. I approve.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Now she knelt and presented to me, “Your drink, My Lord.” In her eyes a silent plea for help went out to me, but I was studiously ignoring it. She couldn’t think of anything else to do, so she sat at my feet and hugged my leg. She stared at Ares with eyes of fear as though he were a cobra ready to strike.

“So, um, Master,” again Ares said the word as if it were a nasty taste, “How did you do it? How did you tame this insufferable bitch.“

“How did I get you to join me for dinner? Why do you call me ‘Master’?”

“Yes. That whole body-swapping thing. It’s a useful trick. But now I’m here in my body. Your slave seems to understand what that means better than you do.” Cindi had turned as pale as her complexion would allow. She was shaking like a leaf. Her fingers were digging into my leg painfully. I was a solid lamppost to cling to in her own personal hurricane.

“Excuse us, Cindi,” I said, “we’ll be right back.”

* * *

Suddenly, from Cindi’s perspective, the man she was holding was no longer Her Lord. It was the same body, of course, but the person inside it clearly was not me. And the man she saw across from her was somehow softer—feminine?—and certainly no longer Ares. Other people were inhabiting both of those shells now. They spoke to each other—angrily?—in some language Cindi didn’t know.

Then the man in my (Greg Wolfe’s) body said in heavily accented English, “My wife would like you to let go of my leg. I, on other hand, do not mind at all.”

In the mean time, Ares and I were in my dungeon. I was in the dungeon master’s body. Ares was bound to the waterboarding table in the dungeon master’s wife’s body. Ares and I were going to come to an understanding. Right here. Right now.

At some point it might have just become too much trouble to bring him to heel, but we were not there yet. I was willing to give him the carrot that he desired, but first he would have to show me that he respected the stick. Really all it took was this display of my power. He crumbled immediately.

I drowned him anyway. He must respect the stick.

* * *

It took only minutes to make my point. As quickly as we had departed, we were back. “Do we have an understanding now, Ares?”

“Yes, Master.” He still chafed at the word, but now his voice had a fresh edge of fear as well.

Julia appeared. Without looking away from Ares I held up a finger to her, silently commanding her to wait. She could see how horrified Cindi was, and though she didn’t know why, Julia’s face now reflected that horror. I was engaged with Ares still. Not speaking. Just meeting his eyes. Eventually Ares broke the stare and looked down. Cindi watched in awe. Ares was still a cobra, but now one trapped in a glass cage. I nodded to Julia.

“The entrée is served, Master.” “Entrée” in the Aussie sense (well, the everywhere-but-North-America sense, really), an appetizer, not the main course.

To Ares, “Shall we?” To my slave, “Come, Cindi.”

The appetizer was finger-food, peeled grapes and currants, mixed with shelled pecans and walnuts in a chilled bowl. Cindi was actually hiding behind me, gripping my shirt. Ares was already working on her, ratcheting up her fear. That was within the rules we established; he was allowed to do that. Even so, I was suddenly ... reluctant to give her the order. Ares looked at me expectantly. “Well?” he prompted.

“Cindi, help our guest with his food.”

The symbolism of feeding peeled grapes to her greatest enemy as a naked slave girl was not lost on her. But more important to her at the moment: Her Lord was ordering her to step into the cage with the cobra. She was my true slave. Trembling, she knelt at Ares’ feet.

“How may I serve you, Sir?”

“Ha, ha! Oh this is rich. Call me ‘Master’, bitch.“

“Cindi, do not call him ‘Master’!“

Ares eyed me levelly, but again dropped his gaze.

“Then call me, ‘Mister Ares’.” They both looked at me. I nodded.

“Yes, Mister Ares, Sir.”

“Climb onto my lap, wench. Tempt me with your ... morsels.”

“Yes, Mister Ares, Sir.”

On his lap she could no longer hide the wetness and heat between her legs. Up close she could no longer hide how hard and tight her wrinkled brownish-red nipples were, how flushed her face and lips had become, how deeply her fear was feeding her arousal. Her most hated enemy had her literally in his grasp. And somehow that fact had her uncomfortably on the edge of an orgasm.

I was not completely comfortable myself. That nagging acid stomach, my “stress” problem, had decided to make an appearance. Well, I couldn’t deny I knew the cause now. It was pretty obvious. But I couldn’t back out. Ares and I had a deal.

As Cindi reached over to grab a handful of fruits and nuts, Ares reached for her own low-hanging fruit. Grabbing and slapping an ass cheek with one hand. Hefting a breast with the other. Pinching her nipple. Eliciting involuntary squeals of fright from the helpless slave. She was more afraid of Ares now than she ever had been of me, even during our discipline sessions in the dungeon. And just as in those sessions, she thought she must be going crazy, because her arousal was building to a fever pitch.

“What are you going to do with those grapes, girl?”

“Sorry, Mister Ares, Sir.” Cindi began feeding him. One hand holding the food, the other feeding him individual bites. On almost every bite, Ares trapped her fingers with his teeth, teasingly, cruelly. While Cindi’s hands were occupied and harassed, Ares’ hands were roaming Cindi’s body, massaging, pinching, pulling, smacking. His assault was relentless, yet it never went beyond the boundaries I had established. Boundaries that, by mutual agreement, Cindi knew nothing about.

Cindi’s fear was beginning to push out all other thought. And the arousal rising on the heels of that fear was driving her mad. It was as if her own body was committing treason against her. She endured almost on autopilot, feeding him until her hand was empty, then scooping another handful from the bowl. Whenever she glanced at me, pleading silently for me to save her, I just nodded my head toward her enemy, urging her to continue.

It was not what I wanted to do, but I had to. Ares and I had a deal. Ha! That had become my mantra. I was clinging to it even as the pain in my stomach grew more intense.

When Julia brought out the soup, Ares ordered Cindi roughly to serve him, to feed him, all while he continued to torment her body. Her hands were shaking so badly that she could not get a spoonful of soup from the bowl to his lips. Until now he had avoided verbal abuse, although that was also within the rules.

But when the fifth attempted spoonful of soup landed squarely in her lap, he exploded, “You foolish ... clumsy ... whore!” He pushed her off his lap onto the floor—still barely within the rules—and grabbed her hair drawing her toward his crotch.

Cindi was shocked into silence, but a small cry emerged from the kitchen. I was in Julia’s head ordering her to stay out of it. She obeyed.

Cindi whimpered as the fear possessed her, “Please, Mister Ares, Sir. Please don’t hurt me, Mister Ares, Sir.”

Ares continued his verbal assault, “Here, I have something a worthless cunt like you might be able to do without fucking it up. Take it out! Get to work!” Still within the rules. Sobbing uncontrollably now she fished out his rigid member with trembling hands and began to service him.

Between spoonfuls of soup, then between bites of salad, then while cutting and spearing and chewing his meat, Ares kept up the veiled threats and abuse, never quite crossing that line but coming as close as possible over and over. Cindi continued to bob up and down on his member, trembling like a leaf, crying and pleading for mercy whenever he allowed her to come up for air.

Long after he was done with his dinner Cindi was still working on him. At long last he grabbed her hair and pulled her off his member. Immediately she began to sob and beg, even as gout after gout of his cum spewed onto her hair, her face, her jewel-laden chest.

He was still within the rules. I couldn’t call it off. I couldn’t stop him. I pulled out my new ever-present companion, my roll of antacids, and took two. Unfortunately, the worst pain was no longer in my stomach.

* * *

Holding her limp body by her hair as she cried and begged and shuddered, he growled, “We’re not done yet, bitch.” Then to me, ”Master, please have your other cunt clear the table.” I motioned to Julia. Silent but both furious and frightened the red-head quickly cleared the dirty dishes. As Julia carried away the last load, Ares hauled a seemingly paralyzed Cindi to her feet. He slammed her back across the table, spread her legs, and entered her traitorous sopping vagina in one smooth stroke.

Against her will, her frightened mewling was interspersed now with passionate groans. Against her will, her mask of fear gave way to a look of yearning.

Now Ares taunted her again, but it was not the same, “Do you like it, bitch? Do you want it?“

Cindi moaned louder but did not answer.

“Say it, you cheap whore. Say it or I’ll stop.”

“I nnnnnnggh I like it.“

“I can’t hear you.”

I like it, Mister Ares, Sir. I w-w-want it.

“Beg me for it. Beg me to keep going.”

Please, Mister Ares, Sir. Please don’t stop!

“You pitiful slut.”

“Please fuck your pitiful slut. Please fuck your cheap whore. Please don’t stop, Mister Ares, Sir!

“Do you want to cum, you slimy hole?”

“Yes, Mister Ares, Sir. Please let your slimy hole cum. Please, Sir, Please!

This went on for what seemed like forever. Ares was pushing her harder, making her plead for him in more and more disgusting ways. I was getting sicker and sicker. But none of this was outside the rules. Ares and I had a god-damned, motherfucking deal. Finally, as he was making her scream her pleas for release, he looked upon her, said only, “No,” and shot his load into her.

He hauled her head up once again, and forced his tongue deep past her cum-spattered lips. A loud humming moan passed through her nose. She reached toward him, but he pulled away and spit on her face. Holding her at arm’s length by her hair, he turned to me and said, calmly, conversationally, “Well, I must say that I haven’t had this much fun since I tricked Heracles into conquering Themiscyra.”

Deep inside her tortured psyche, some small part of Cindi was livid to hear even a hint of Ares’ role in the humiliation of the Amazons. But she had her own humiliation to worry about. And she was too weak, too afraid, too ashamed to move. She sobbed quietly. Utterly broken. Utterly defeated.

I was ready to burst, but I kept my calm. Through gritted teeth I said, “So, you got what you wanted?”

The “god” grinned broadly and shook my unresisting slave, “And then some.”

“And you will hold up your end?”

“As of now I’m ‘retired’, Master. Just like that fool Heracles. Neither you nor your pet bitch will ever see me again. Goodbye.” With that he released Cindi’s hair and let her fall to the floor. He rudely shoved her limp form out of his way with his foot. He walked out onto my patio balcony and flew away.

* * *

Out of nowhere, Julia rocketed past me, pushing me aside. She fell to the floor and gathered Cindi into her embrace.

“Julia ... she’ll be fine.”

Julia turned and glared at me. Even if she weren’t trembling as she stared me down I would know that it frightened her deeply to defy me. I had to admire her courage. She held a quaking, sobbing Cindi and rocked her gently, kissing her hair, vainly murmuring reassurances that she herself didn’t believe.

After Cindi had cried herself out in Julia’s arms, she pushed the redhead away and crawled over to me. She started kissing my feet and repeating, over and over again, like a weak, feeble chant, “Please, My Lord, I’ll be good. I’ll be good, My Lord. Please, I’ll be good ...”

I shushed her. I picked her up. My vision was blurred by my tears, but somehow I got her to the couch. I rocked her and rocked her and cried with her. Why was I such a mess? Everything was going according to plan, right?

Julia left us alone. She started cleaning the kitchen.

As I held Cindi tight, she turned to my ear to speak to me again. She was whispering horrible, horrible things. She was trying to bargain with me.

“I’ll do Majestic Woman porn, as Majestic Woman. I’ll do dogs. I’ll do horses. I’ll do ... I’ll do pigs. But please don’t let him have me again.“

“I’ll be your crack whore on the sleaziest street corner in Bangkok. I’ll smoke crack. I’ll take meth. I’ll shoot heroin with dirty needles. Whatever you want. I’ll fuck AIDS patients. I’ll fuck lepers. But please don’t let him touch me.”

“I’ll let you waterboard me every day ... I’ll ... I’ll ... I’ll b-b-beg you to waterb—” suddenly horrified at herself, her voice caught in her throat, “I’ll beg you to waterb-b-board me every d-day, but please, please, My Lord, please ...“

That one was too much for me. I sobbed loudly and held her even tighter. She pulled back and looked up at me in shock, in wonder. I was crying. “Never again, baby,” I sobbed, “You’ll never see him again. Just like the torches. Just like the mob bosses.” My shoulders were shaking. “We had a deal, Ares and I. You paid the price.” I was openly wailing. I couldn’t hide my pain. “You’ll never ... never ... never ... see him again.“

She was touching my face. She was kissing my tears. She was comforting me. I couldn’t imagine where she found the strength. After a while Julia let herself out. I was still holding Cindi, she was still holding me, when she finally fell asleep.

I carried her to bed, the real bed, not the dog bed. I gave Greg some instructions in case I were not there when she woke up. Not much chance of that; I would be monitoring her all night long. I told Annette that Cindi would be sleeping in Annette’s body tonight. Then I swapped to my next body and continued my endless day.

To Be Continued in Chapter 14. In which our heroine’s dreams come true