The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Disclaimer: This is an adult story about adult stuff. If you’re a kid- scram! What do you want here anyway? Didn’t anybody ever tell you that this stuff will make you wet the bed if you’re less that 18?

Imparting the Endowment

Part 2

“Must I wear this stiff collar and stuffy suit?” Jeremy asked his adoptive father, who he called Uncle Milton.

“Until you can convince a roomful of people that you’re wearing it when you’re not, my guess would be yes,” said Lord Milton.

That day would not be far off, I knew. Jeremy was a prodigy at everything about his inheritance. In these first six months he had gotten into things it had taken me five years to control when I was a lad. Of course I had started when I was seven and Jeremy was 16 when I finally let him realize the power he could have.

But for all his power, he was still only 16 and his turbulent emotions and lack of experience indicated a need for caution on both of our parts.

Not that there would be any trouble tonight. I would be there. I would introduce Jeremy as my heir to the titled heads and their guests, and perhaps we would have a little fun. It was a reward for the hard work Jeremy had put in for the last six months.

His sheer power I had never doubted. He could stun a room of any size and leave them clueless. It was the subtle workings of the emanations that we had been working on for the last half year. But my domesticated women were no longer useful subjects for Jeremy. They had been in my thrall so long that Jeremy could never tell if it was his suggestions or left over imperatives I had planted in them.

We needed fresh blood. And since a fete would be expected to announce and introduce my new heir, what better way for Jeremy to ‘meet’ new people and find his new place in society. But not naked. It would do Jeremy good to get used to evening dress.

The family manor was so dreary- and so far from everything, that I had long ago moved to a brownstone townhouse in the city. But the huge stone monstrosity was the perfect place to entertain a large gathering. Very few titled families remained in possession of the family manse and that made the opulence of mine that much more of a subtle oneupmanship. And I didn’t even use the damn place. It sat vacant except for the staff because it failed to amuse me.

Not that I want them to envy me for my ability to retain my wealth. It goes farther back than that, to the root of being an aristocrat. I wanted them to envy me for being able to do whatever I wanted while the dreary plebeian society was closing in on them from every flank and hobbling them.

“So do I have to wait upstairs and come down on some cue?” Jeremy asked as we were driven to our estate.

“That’s for debutantes, you’d have to wear a gown,” I told him.

“I bet it would be more comfortable than this frigging collar,” Jeremy grumbled under his breath and then asked, “So what do I have to do?”

“Don’t think of it as ‘have to’, Jeremy,” I corrected, “Think of it as a point we go through that it suits us to arrange just now. New blood, remember that? We’ll have fun tonight, I promise you.”

As you might have discerned, that ‘have to’ thing lies pretty close to my skin. As I blathered on, Jeremy looked at me patiently and rephrased the question.

“So what does a guy being presented do?” he asked slowly.

“You just hang around with me and shake a lot of hands. I might get the urge to quiet the hall and say a few words, but all you have to do is stand there and smile, nod if appropriate,” I explained.

“And pick out some people behaving like complete asses and we’ll decide what their remedy shall be,” I added.

“How about girls with perfect asses?” Jeremy snickered.

“Oh my lad, you shock me, that my name could ever be linked with immorality of any kind,” I said and we both burst into laughter thinking of the four naked women sitting in the townhouse at the moment, amusing themselves like so many pet cats.

That joviality brought us to the manor. A few cars lined the driveway in front of the 96-room mansion when we arrived. Their contents were already inside, most of them stuffing themselves on the canapés or depleting the bar to get a head start on the evening.

The truly poor, who relished a chance for free food, I pitied. The drunks, who welcomed the taste of unblended scotch and true Kentucky bourbon, I despised. But I could make neither group’s lives any more miserable and they were and, with few exceptions, there was nothing they had that I wanted nor anything they could do for me.

To make a drunk act stupid is a redundancy. And to add to the burden of the downtrodden is an abomination.

Feeling abominable, of course I turned on the freeloaders first. Lucy was pushing 40, but she was still an attractive woman. Cursed with her family’s sharp, hooked nose, it took eyes the cold blue of arctic ice and strong cheekbones for Lucy to achieve her beauty. But beyond the precarious balance of her features, Lucy was without fault. Her breasts were ample, but not large, which had left them still high on her chest. Her belly was faultless and her hips remained slim and lithe. Her buttocks had sagged from champagne glass to wine glass, but their curves may have been even more inviting with the promise of yielding they showed. Her Venus mound was rather hairy for my taste, but nipped back up between her thighs in a delightful sweep-from what I could see.

I was not reciting this from memory. Lucy stood before me totally naked except for her champagne sparkle heels. It was only my first little trick to add spice to the party for Jeremy and me. For we were the only ones Lucy would not be fooling. The rest would see her in her original gown as Lucy had seen herself in her dressing room mirror.

Jeremy saw me approach Lucy and observed in all the spheres as I had her strip and then protected her from the rest.

“That is totally neat!” he exclaimed, “That is awesome. How can you hold the control like that? You’ve got to be directing everyone who sees her, right?”

“You saw,” I chided him, “I can’t hide things from you- I just split off a little of my concentration to project from wherever Lucy goes.”

“I bet that takes a lot of practice,” Jeremy enthused.

“Damn it Jeremy, how many times must I tell you, nothing takes practice,” I repeated, “Everything I do, you could do when you were born. You just didn’t know about it. It’s not even the knowing how, though that seems to be the best way to teach it, it’s just the knowing. To know you have to learn. And that’s it. Once you learn it, you can do it. Boom! No practice. It’s grasping the concept. Then it’s there.”

It was my fault from not taking Jeremy at seven. He had 13 years- 16 really, of having this work hard to get better hogwash pumped into him. Now I had to convince him that it was play hard to live well. But other than poking his poor uncle continuously where the skin is the thinnest, he had been making fine progress.

“Then can I try?” Jeremy asked, suddenly enthusiastic again.

“You can succeed. It’s easier than you make it out to be, it’s always easier than you think,” I told him.

He was still working a little too hard at it, but I had to congratulate him on his choice of subjects. Lucy’s daughter, Lucinda, was a near carbon of her mother in most respects. A paternal aunt had paid for a new nose for Lucinda and her bosom was fuller than her mother’s. They both might have worn a C cup, but while Lucy would be barely filling her lingerie, Lucinda would be overflowing.

There were no such garments on either woman now. Our two little jokes stood next to each other, Jeremy’s and mine, and I felt a surge of fatherly emotion.

“We can also pick off a few head to stash upstairs for extended games later,” I told Jeremy, already becoming bored with this game.

“What about these two?” Jeremy asked, “can we take them upstairs?”

“Why bother?” I answered.

I drew a dark glance from Jeremy, who thought I was berating him for another trespass on some old, moldy convention, but then Lucy came over and unceremoniously flopped on the table next to me. Her exquisite nipples, pink shot with red veins, were now pinker covered with the salmon canapés into which she had dropped her tits. She waited, legs spread wide as I smiled back at Jeremy.

Lucinda’s nipples were two shades towards tan from her mother’s, so it was only appropriate that her breasts would land in the pate du foie gras as she lay on the table next to her mother. I had my cock out as Jeremy was fishing for his and lay it in the warm cleft between Lucy’s ass cheeks. Looking at her sluttish presentation had been arousing, but not enough for what I had in store for her.

‘You’ve got to help the locomotive go,’ I suggested to Lucy and she put her hand back to stroke my rod as I rubbed it between her cheeks. I quickly obtained the rigidity I needed with the help of her hand and pulled back.

Jeremy had wasted no such time. His 16-year-old pecker was more than ready for what he wanted and he was deep inside Lucinda as I suggested to Lucy, ‘open up the tunnel, here comes the choo-choo.’

Lucy spread her cheeks with both hands, making her slit flower in a burst of pink and her puckered anus appear above it. I lubricated her with a crab puff and set my cock to her wrinkled opening. Since none of it was happening, there was no protest from Lucy as I pushed roughly into her nearly unprepared anus. The crab puff had been a joke. It crumbled around my dick and was excluded by the tight grip of her asshole on my girth.

But I drove on into the unsuspecting woman without it. When I had forced myself to the hilt, I looked up to see Jeremy paused on Lucinda’s rump. He waited for me and we began to bang our mother and daughter duo on tandem. In and out together- god, it was nice to be doing things with my son.

His stamina had increased in his six months of unrestrained debauch, but he was still many strokes quicker than I, despite the fact I was struggling to drive in and out of the deliriously tight grip of Lucy’s ass. He had stopped after fucking Lucinda through a prolonged jizm-spurting spree as I was just getting the point of fucking Lucy for my climax. He watched with appreciation as I slammed into the forgiving buttocks, ramming my prick to the hilt repeatedly in Lucy’s rectum. And when I came, the sight of her lurching forward so her face was driven into the salmon canapés with the force of my orgasmic thrusts made him giggle.

‘Someone gave you a chocolate bar,’ I suggested to Lucy and she forsook her post to kneel in front of me and suck me, quivering and twitching with post-orgasm sensitivity, until my cock was cleaned of the offal from her bowels.

“You made her eat shit!” Jeremy laughed, again showing that admirable quality of superiority that allowed him to accept that conventions were only a nuisance and that we- our family- were the only law that must be obeyed.

I made a note to have a serving girl watch Lucy and carefully wipe off any chair she sat on so there wouldn’t be shit and semen stains on the upholstery. I was interrupted by Lord Ptarmigan busily approaching with his characteristic bustle. He made such a show of going every where he went, thinking people mistook it for diligence and power.

“At last, the opportunity to appraise you of the situation at St. Agnes,” he said, beginning in mid conversation. He thought that way of speaking made him appear overbooked and wanted. He also pronounced ‘appraise’ as ‘a-priz’ because he though it re-inforced his public school background, instead of made him look like an ignorant fool.

The situation at St. Agnes was that they let him hang around as long as he raised funds for the hospital. He wanted to ‘put the arm on me’ at Jeremy’s coming-out affair. Suddenly I had a better idea than the serving girl. I left him on his knees behind Lucy, his pants around his ankles and his mouth glued to her fundus. That was a simpler way to insure she would not stain the furniture.

Other guests were appearing in a stream, in reverse order of their prestige. And once the Lords were here, the Viscounts and Dukes would trickle in. I gathered Jeremy for the rounds of meet and greet.

“Does that mean the fun is over?” he asked.

“Minor amusements may present themselves,” I allowed, thinking of Ptarmigan, “But the real fun comes when the big fish arrive.”

Again without needing a gift, I knew one toy Jeremy would find amusing. Elaine was the daughter of a Duke and Duchess and as such believed her only peer to be the queen and perhaps the princes. She had the fragile beauty of the English rose and the temperament of a boatswain’s mate.

But they would be the last to arrive- unless the queen, who it would have been bad manners not to invite, sent a representative. Until then, I told Jeremy to beware of pompous asses and note his chosen prizes. With the boldness of youth, he turned the meet and greet into a game.

He was certainly recovered from his bout with Lucinda and ready to ravish another, but he contented himself with examining any woman that caught his fancy. Curtsies were altered so that the slight lift of the skirt became a gesture of exposing their underthings and, tiring of that, it was changed to baring their breasts instead.

I had Lady Haroldd slip her hand in her lord’s pants and insert a finger in his ass and told them to stay that way, but that was after the lord had insulted Jeremy. Jeremy did have features of a commoner, the lord had said, he even looked a little Irish. Well, he looked like he had his wife’s finger up his ass.

The music started as the ballroom filled and Jeremy and I made our way to that immense room. The stragglers would seek us out to acknowledge their host and I knew Jeremy grew impatient to have more fun with all these subjects. On the way, I marveled that he had not found any suitable women in the receiving line.

He turned with a questioning look even as I noticed a flash of flesh on one of the balustrades. It was Lydia Lytton riding the rail in her nude glory some 15 feet above the chattering, dancing crowd in the ballroom.

“I didn’t realise that I was supposed to tell you,” Jeremy said, “There are three of them up there. Lydia fancies herself a horsewoman, so I thought it would be amusing to have her riding to the hounds whiled the other guests were milling around unawares beneath her.”

“What of the lord and lady?” I asked.

“Oh, she’d been here, she made the appearance, now she wanted to go home, she’d send the car back for them,” he said, explaining the story Lord and Lady Lytton believed.

“I’m sorry if I screwed up,” Jeremy started, but I cut him off with a wave.

“Overprotective, you know, afraid you’d need my help, thought you would be timid in such a crowd,” I said,

I was a little miffed and proud at the same time. Little mister six months of learning was pretty comfortable with his influence. Like a mother hen, I resented that I was not needed, but otherwise I was impressed with his confidence and skill.

When Elaine arrived, I was disappointed with his lack of interest. I asked him about her.

“What a cold bitch, her entire being is spiked and mean,” he said.

He obviously had a different sense of fun than I have. He felt no slight from her imperious attitude nor any urging to bring her down. He was comfortable within himself and how she ruined her own life was no matter to him.

Well, she wasn’t escaping that easily. I told him she could furnish comedic relief and assured him I’d take care of her if she bored him. He shrugged.

Elaine was stricken with a sudden and distressing case of diarrh—cramps and had to flee the room. As she sat on a chair in the study, believing it to be the loo, with her gown up and her underwear around her ankles, her parents were growing a little more upset with the nonexistent recent argument with Lydia. They remembered her storming out after informing her she’d rather eat with pigs and, in fact, was going to seek the nearest working man’s pub and have sex with the lot. While her parents’ consternation grew in the ballroom, Lydia sat fixed to her chair waiting in embarrassed anticipation for the all too tacky explosion of smells and disgusting sounds that would come.

Jeremy might not have wanted to play, but he did appreciate the humour of my scenario- especially the revelation that Elaine knew her shit stank.

It was far too late when the last of the guests were shooed out of the manor. I noted with amusement when Lucy and Lucinda left, still naked as the day they were born, and their driver, who could see them as could Jeremy and I, stoically opened the door for the naked pair without comment. When they left the grounds, they would lose the glamour and be naked for all the world. I could envision them scrambling to hide in the back of the car and wondered if they would find the unmarked package containing their clothes or would scamper red-faced into their house in their nudity.

I paused for a moment before collecting Elaine. How should I enter the loo? An old char woman with a caustic mouth? A handsome cavalier? The Queen? But of course, I would be Prince Andrew. Randy Andy would be able to embarrass the shit back into her. While his legendary womanizing might diminish him as mate material in her eyes, his status would have to be respected. And, of course, his free and easy with women would make her feel he was reducing her to the rank of sex toy when he discovered her being indisposed.

“Oh my, luv, I didn’t hear any response to my knock,” the ‘prince’ said as I primped my hair in the bookcase, “I’ll just be a tick.”

Elaine sat in horrified silence as Andrew patted his hair in the mirror.

“Elaine, isn’t it,” the ‘prince’ said, smashing her hopes that she would go unrecognized, “My you look lovely there. Might I coax you to have a drink with me?”

Her bowel distemper suddenly no longer even a memory, Elaine stepped out of her underwear without realizing she did so and stood to take the proffered arm. Something scandalous had passed, she knew, but she couldn’t remember what it was as she walked with the ‘prince’ to the door.

Like many ladies of her rank, Elaine associated sex with evacuation because of the proximity of the organs. I knew that when her parents accused her of sleeping with commoners, she would counter with her misty memory of having sex with Andrew in a bathroom.

Just for fun, I changed her perception of me to an executioner, black hood and all as we climbed the stairs to the upper rooms. Instead of resting her arm lightly on my arm, she felt tightly bound and on her way to a date with the sword. That backfired on me as she lost bladder control on the third step and left a puddle on the stair.

She was still standing ramrod straight as we walked into the bedroom, but she was weeping like an opened faucet. Jeremy could see what she saw and laughed out loud at what I had made Elaine become. He was in the midst of a breast enlargement procedure with Lydia that required him to sit on her belly and pull her nipples up until she could stand it no longer and had to cry out. Then he would begin the slow pull again.

“They are all so vain, don’t you think,” Jeremy said to me and I perceived that he was putting Lydia through the treatment because she was obsessed with having larger breasts and was willing to go through any procedure, damn the pain, if they would grow bigger.

That was the spirit. I was afraid he had passed my fascination with Elaine off as revenge, but now that he had himself encountered the silly, empty ways of these so-called aristocrats, I thought he could better understand. I did not recognize the other two standing off a ways in each others arms. They were breast to breast, belly to belly, as if hugging, but each’s hands rested on the others buttocks. That is, rested until it was their turn to raise one of their hands in turn and smack it down on the reddening cheek it rested on.

“They tried to start a catfight, so I introduced some rules,” explained Jeremy when he saw me looking at them.

I suggested to Elaine that she was being prepared for torture. I stripped her and then suggested that she was hooked to a chain. She stretched upwards on the post of the canopy bed containing Jeremy and Lydia as if she had been drawn there by the wrists. Then Jeremy froze my heart. Elaine lifted another six inches until her toes only touched the floor.

It was physically impossible that Elaine could have done that. Her toes groped for the floor enough to help her balance, but she could not be supporting herself on them. I hadn’t done it. That meant Jeremy had gone beyond anything I could teach him to a power I did not know existed. I was dumbstruck for a moment. But I fought to regain my composure and tried to go on with the scene.

Elaine was a mess as she hung on the post. Her sobbing had turned her face into a demon mask and her hair was escaping the pins that held it to draggle down her face.

“Now, now missy, some learn to love the lash,” I told her in my best low-brow dialect, “Course I don’t see many the likes of you.”

That set off renewed howls from Elaine. She was really frantic now.

“There, there, don’t fuss like that, now,” I told her and dropped to a conspiratorial tone, “There might be a way that I could forget about this whipping.”

“How?” Elaine howled.

“Well, if you was to be real nice to me, it might just slip my mind, you know how it is, dazzled by a fine lady like you,” I leered.

“B..b...be nice to you?” she asked, genuinely puzzled at my meaning.

“You know what I mean, ducks,” I said in a tone that left no doubt.

“Oh gaaaaaaawwwwd!” Elaine wailed.

“Oh gaaawwwwd, ....yes,” she finally said in a small voice, “go ahead.”

It was a marvelous comeuppance for the snooty bitch. But it was not so wonderful by half as the suspension I could actually feel as I stepped between Elaine’s legs and thrust into her. Spreading her legs had moved her feet totally off the floor and she was hanging in some magical manner as I drove into her.

It was as if there were truly cuffs suspending her. I could lift her with a thrust and she would stop at the same point when I pulled back to ram my cock into her again. But her anguish had nothing to do her suspension or the rough manner in which I was taking her. She cringed more violently when I put what she supposed were my filthy hands on her breasts and squeezed as I raped her.

I finally looked to Jeremy to inquire about the force holding Elaine, but he had turned Lydia over and was giving her the ‘fanny pat’ to keep her derriere tight. Of course it was his belly patting her fanny and his stiff prick was guiding the way by boring straight up her womanhood. I let the part that wanted Jeremy to think I was superior win out and went back to fucking my captive duchess.

That resolve lasted until I was ready to cum. I wanted to further humiliate Elaine and I couldn’t do it with her hanging there.

“Jeremy! Let her down, will you,” I called out and she slumped down onto and then past me to the floor.

“Here, take it,” I said, tending to the most urgent business as I grabbed her hair and forced my cock into her face.

She was more crying than sucking, but I was at the point that a few passes over her tongue was enough. I jerked my cock back just at the first sticky jet of juzm lept from my cock and it hit above her eyebrow and dangled down to settle across her eye and over her cheek. I stroked my cock to keep it coming and deposited four or five more of the ropy strands on her face. Then I pushed her hands behind her back and told her she was cuffed again.

As I left her leaning against the bed, she wailed, “But I did what you wanted.”

“And I didn’t whip you,” I answered, “I didn’t say you’d go free now, did I.? There’s a lot more guys besides me you gotta fuck to get out of here.”

I left her with her thoughts of trading her body for her freedom and paused to watch Jeremy finish up his fanny patting with Lydia.

“Oh yes! I’ve never had a massage that was so exciting,” Lydia was gasping, oblivious mentally to the rod pumping her pussy.

Her body knew it was there, however, and I would have bet that Jeremy knew it as well. He jerked, stopped, hammered, stopped and then slumped down off her.

“There you go then, miss, you’re as attractive as I can make you,” Jeremy said, meaning that he lad left her with semen dripping out of her open, glistening twat.”

But Jeremy and I had business to discuss.

“How did you lift Elaine?” I asked trying to keep the awe I felt out of my voice. “Umm, did I? Yeah, I guess I did,” he said, sounding like a schoolboy caught cribbing on an exam, “I just saw you putting her up there and I guess it just slipped out.” “I can’t do that,” I admitted point blank, “I don’t think it can be done.”

“Oh,” said Jeremy.

It was a sound of relief. He thought I was going to lecture him again. He relaxed a little and that made me relax as well. He wasn’t hiding power, he just thought he was working ahead.

“I could always, you know, move things by thinking about them. Mom thought our house was haunted,” Jeremy said, “But I never moved anything that big before. That control stuff you taught me must work for that too.”

That was a lot to think about. He was distracted and gave that command while he was hot on the trail of Lydia pussy. It meant as a child he had worked so hard that the power didn’t flow freely. I may have helped him realise that, but I may have pushed him off in that direction in the first place. I didn’t remember the specific instruction I thrust on infant Jeremy, but it was unlikely I forbade him to learn of powers I didn’t think existed.

“Well, it shocked the shit our of me,” I admitted, “I thought this house waas haunted.”

Jeremy laughed at that and we were back to our unplanned program of hijinks. There were those two red-bottomed ladies still engaged in their mutual spanking session.

“I don’t think there’s any room for us if they keep that up, do you?” I asked Jeremy.

They stopped even as I finished my sentence and turned to face us. Tyra and Melaine, of course, I recognized them now. Jeremy made a low bow in my favor and I tried to choose the one he didn’t want as much. I heard Jeremy giggle.

“You know, you’re a swell old uncle,” he said, “I don’t care either, but what if we take the suggestion of a wise old gentleman I know and do them both.”

The girls trotted to the bed and climbed on. There was plenty of room beside the sleeping Lydia for them to get on all fours facing opposite ways and wait for us.

“I get a mouth and a rear and you get a mouth and a rear,” Jeremy said with a sweep of his hand.

I needed a mouth. While I cringed as Jeremy called me old twice, there was little doubt that I had aged. I would need that oral support to ready me for this next round. But there was also an inaccuracy in what Jeremy said.

“I’m glad you think I’m swell, but you know I’m not really your uncle,” I told him, “I guess now what I am is your step-father, or adoptive father.”

“I thought about that a lot as we got ready for this bash,” Jeremy told me, “But I just couldn’t get comfortable with calling you ‘father’ or ‘dad’ or any of that. Anyway, a chap is supposed to feel close and grateful to an uncle, like I do, and even maybe like him better than a dad. After all, it isn’t ‘Bob’s your father’. Would you hate it if I just called you uncle?”

That took me aback. Not that he didn’t want to call me father, but that he had pondered it so long. And his points were valid. I had not thought him stupid, but he had never shown a proclivity to be a scholar. I was learning that there was much I had yet to learn about Jeremy.

“As long as you promise me not to call me ‘Uncle Miltie’ in any but the most intimate circumstances,” I said, “I understand there was an American performer that dressed as a woman and went by that name.”

Then we were laughing again and then we were on the bed at our respective ends of the woman. Uncle Miltie’s (what’s more intimate than fucking a couple of women with your son?) idea was a good one again. Even after Tyra had sucked me back to prowess, I returned again and again to thrust into that very different sex orifice as a break from Melaine’s snatch.

Seeing that, Jeremy did better than follow suit. He waited until my cock was hanging out in the air on a change and had Tyra lay down and Melaine climb on top of her- still in their head to foot positions. Then it was an inch, or two at most, from the greedy slot of Melanie to the gagging throat of Tyra. It was feasible to switch at every stroke, a treat I tried for a moment before using Melanie in long stretches to bring me to the brink so I could slide into Tyra’s face and deliver my jizm on the first stroke.

We left the girls in a pile on the bed, even Elaine, who I released from her ‘cuffs’ to plop her on the semen-stained coverlet, while we retired to the other end of the house. They would awake with no specific memories, but with pains and evidence that would make them sure that they did not want to know what had gone on. They would be told we retired early and that the girl that made up this part of the house wouldn’t come in until after afternoon tea.

At least we left them their clothes.

They had scrambled off by the time we rose in the late morning, but there was one aftereffect from the party waiting for me when I came down for brunch. It was a telegram from my brother William.