The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Indulgence

by Bad Penny

Normally, Abby could handle the bus. Sure, the people with the obnoxious ring tones were annoying (and funny how they were always the same people who seemed to think the entire freaking bus needed to hear their cell phone conversations), and the guy who had his Walkman’s volume set so high, she could hear the music pouring out of his headphones from three rows back needed to die. All right, so death was probably a little drastic, but at the very least, he deserved to have that fucking Walkman smashed into a billion little pieces. A Walkman! Who used a Walkman in the iPod age?

And normally, Abby could handle the driver arguing with the passengers over transfer and zone fares. She could even normally handle the driver yelling at people to stop ringing the damn bell as they lurched down Highway 224, could normally handle the stop and go traffic and soul-crushing knowledge that she had two hours until her stop. Normally.

But the week had been brutal, she was exhausted, and the driver on this shake-up refused to take the alternate route along D Street, so they were left creeping down 224 after the HOV lane ended. That was painful. So very painful. Especially since the worst cell phone offender got off with her at Riverview. When she finished with Deaf Man’s Walkman, she wanted to stomp on the bastard’s Blackberry over and over and over until it was impossible to tell it had once been a phone.

It was, she knew, uncharitable of her. More people needed to be telepathic so they could conduct their affairs without saying a word. Of course, people like Bastard Blackberry would probably be rude and obnoxious and broadcast their thoughts hard enough to get through her normal shields, and then she’d be even more grumpy and uncharitable. Homicidal, even, because if the offending communication advice was someone’s head...well, that would get messy.

She shouldn’t be bitching like a little old lady at thirty. Complaints about kids these days could at least wait until she was thirty-one. But kids (people) these days were so damn rude. Sometimes (most of the time), she wished she could reach into the heads of the worst offenders and flick on a common courtesy switch. And a common sense switch, but when it came down to a choice, courtesy won.

My, pet, something has you in a foul mood.

Abby startled. Sir! She slumped in her seat feeling the familiar twinges of guilt. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so loud. She hated bothering Him with her petty annoyances.

She could feel Him chuckle, and it sent a warm tingle down her spine. Is that an admission you’re trying to hide something from me?

No! She caught herself sputtering, and quickly coughed, turning her head to look out the window. Oh Sweet Lord, thirty minutes on the bus, and they were just now passing Bradley Park. This was going to be a long ride. But, I try to be mindful. I mean, You don’t need the distraction when You’re on duty. So if it’s not important—and nothing I really do at work is important, though I did get to see the designs for the new green condos going up three blocks from the office today—I don’t want to bother You. But I don’t—

His laughter cut her off in mid-thought. Abigail. I am allowed to tease you.

She bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. You can do anything, Sir.

Yes.

She could feel His smug pleasure in the thought, and it made her smile. He deserved to feel smug. He was so good to her, so strict and kind and patient, so indulgent when she’d earned it. If it weren’t for Him, she’d be a paranoid mess instead of a (relatively) sane and productive member of society.

Now, tell me why you’re so upset.

She sighed. It’s just been a rough week, Sir. I’m rubbed a little raw, so everything’s bothering me.

He waited.

Abby bit her lip again. Patience. Charity. Of all the things He taught her, those were the most important virtues. But she wasn’t patient or charitable tonight, so the thoughts came tumbling out.

Mary got all huffy and offended when I called her on her bullshit, and I was nice about it, just like You helped me practice. The field paperwork from Hillsboro came back illegible, so I had to track down the GF, and he’s under the gun for all five phases of Tranquility Meadows, so a tiny fifty-loter isn’t high on his list, so I’m not going to be able to shove Hillsboro out the door for at least another week. And now we’re stopped on 224, which I know is normal for a Friday, but I just want to get home. The driver this shake-up is the worst I’ve had, and instead of arguing with passengers over transfer and zone fares, I wish he’d tell everyone to turn down their ringers, stop talking so loud on their phones, and for the love of Sweet Baby Jesus, I wish he’d tell the guy three rows up to turn down his Walkman because the rest of the bus should not have to listen to his music.

She took a deep breath to calm her pulse. She hadn’t meant to get so worked up, but it felt so good to get it all out.

Anything else?

The orange I had at lunch was dry and tasteless.

He chuckled again. Poor thing.

Um, how was your day, Sir?

Considerably less frustrating than yours. I’m home now.

She knew His routines. Abby enjoyed a quick mental image of Him stripping out of His State Patrol uniform and stepping in the shower, steam curling around Him. It was a lovely mmmm-inducing image, and could she really be blamed for imagining Him closing His eyes, tilting His face up into the spray, and reaching down to slowly stroke Himself erect? He had very nice hands and a very nice cock. No wonder she loved imagining (and watching) Him masturbate.

How flattering. Though I do believe I have less grey at the temples.

She blushed. I like the grey.

Why do you think I don’t have it touched up?

You’re too good to me, Sir.

Too good? Then perhaps I won’t help you take your mind off the ride.

“No!”

The woman sitting across the isle from her gave Abby a startled look.

“Sorry,” Abby said. “I’m just thinking something over.”

The woman nodded, then focused her attention straight ahead. Abby didn’t need to dip into the woman’s thoughts. Her body language clearly said, “Don’t engage the crazy lady.”

Ah, pet, sometimes, it’s too easy to laugh at your expense.

That’s mean, Sir. But she was smiling. Even when it came at her expense, she loved making Him laugh.

Then let me apologize by seeing what I can do to take your mind off your commute. Close your eyes and sleep. And don’t worry. I’ll spare you from embarrassing yourself in front of everyone.

Abby obeyed. She could feel Him reach inside her mind, and it was like He flipped a switch, because everything about the bus—the lurching spurs of movement, Bastard Blackberry complaining about his incompetent mechanic, Deaf Man listening to his Walkman, the warm spill of sun on her cheek—fell away. Then the scene unfurled before her in black and white: an old-style bus, the design from the thirties or forties. The driver was wearing a smart little cap and chattering away about nothing, eyes flickering between the road and the mirror.

“Now, Abigail, I think you owe the driver an apology.”

“Sir?” She cocked her head. He was sitting across the isle from her wearing a gangster-era policeman’s uniform, and my, did it look wonderful on Him. Almost as wonderful as His normal uniform. He was a damn hot cop.

He smiled down at her, His expression cool and distant, and she recognized it as His disciplinarian mask. “You were thinking rather uncharitable thoughts.”

“But he doesn’t know the route!”

At that, the driver focused on them. “What’s that, Officer Valero?”

“I apologize. Abigail is being naughty again.”

“Well, you go right ahead and discipline her if that’s what she needs.”

He looked down at her. “Is that what you need, pet?”

Heat flared in her cunt. She liked this distraction. He really was too good to her. She lowered her eyes, coy. “Yes, Sir.”

He patted His thigh. “Come on then.”

It was awkward positioning herself on His lap. At least the seat next to Him was empty, and at least He wasn’t making the bus stop so people would bump against her legs as they slid past her in the isle.

He lifted her skirt, and of course in this scenario, she wasn’t wearing panties, just stockings and garters so her ass was exposed. He stroked her, and the fabric of His uniform’s gloves was scratchy. She shivered under the touch.

“Hmmmm.” He tugged off the gloves, and then it was His bare palm stroking her, His fingers dipping down between her thighs to tease her slit. “Now what do you think you deserve, pet?”

She wiggled her ass a bit. “A spanking, Sir?”

“Too predictable.” He raised his voice. “Wouldn’t you agree, driver?”

“Yes, sir, Officer Valero. Though she does have a pretty little ass. Bet it looks lovely with a nice red glow.”

“True.” His fingers trailed back up the line of her crack. “But her pretty little ass also looks lovely with my fist up it.”

Oh God. The heat in her cunt flared, made her stomach flutter just the way she loved. Abby took a sharp breath. “Oh, yes please, Sir.”

“Well then.” He teased her, tracing lazy circles with fingers slicked with her own juices. “What do you have to say to the driver?”

“But he doesn’t know—”

He tisked and stilled His hand. The tip of His index finger was a firm, teasing presence. She moaned. “I’m sorry!”

“For?” He prompted.

“For saying the driver doesn’t know the route. Of course he does. He’s the driver.”

“Well,” the driver said, sounding sheepish, “I am new to the route. The schedule says there’s an alternate route along D Street, but I’m not familiar with the area and don’t want to get lost. 224, I know.”

“You see, pet. If you offered to navigate for the driver, he’d feel comfortable driving the alternate route.”

“Yes! Yes! I’m sorry!”

He slowly slid a finger up her ass. “That’s a good girl.”

Abby moaned. “Please, Sir.”

“Oh, I’m afraid you have to earn more. I don’t think the driver quite believes you’re sorry.”

“I am! Really, I am. I’ll be a better passenger!”

“Sorry or not, Officer Valero, I’d love to see how wide you can stretch her ass. You did say it looks lovely with your fist up it.”

Abby squirmed. She liked the way the driver thought.

“Are you sure it won’t distract you from your duties?”

The driver laughed. “Oh, I’ll manage to keep us on the road.”

“Very well. Abigail, do you think you can show the driver just how sorry you are?”

“Yes. I’m very sorry. Really!”

“You know, Officer Valero, I don’t want to be too demanding, but I think I’d like it better if she didn’t talk.”

“You are the wronged party.” He shoved one of His gloves in Abby’s mouth, then placed a firm hand between her shoulders to hold her in place.

Abby moaned into it. She clenched around His finger and couldn’t choke back all her needy whimpers.

“I’m afraid she can get rather...enthusiastic. I can order her to be quiet if you’d like.”

“I think what you’ve done is good enough, Officer Valero.”

Abby closed her eyes and bit down on the glove. Would He just hurry up? She was aching for more. Needed more. But no, he was going to torture her by bantering with the driver.

“Patience, pet.” He slid another finger in, and Abby almost sobbed because it felt so good, so real. He was so good at making her believe. Every detail was perfect, from the rough fabric on his uniform to the bumps on the road, to the smell—her own musk, the spicy bite of her perfume, the faint underlying musty smell of the seats. Even the sounds—what she could hear over her pleading whimpers—were right.

“Ah, yes, so lovely.”

It was torture, taking it so slow! Abby screamed into the glove. Please, wouldn’t He hurry? He could in here, could stretch her wide and fast without any damage, and sometimes He indulged her when she begged for it. But most of the time, He took it slow. Horribly slow, and Abby knew it was because He liked watching her beg (as much as she liked begging for Him), knew it was because He liked pushing her to her limits, and oh, God, He had three finger in her now, and the hand between her shoulders burned through her thin blouse, held her firmly in place.

She squirmed, and it was a good thing this wasn’t real, because she was soaking wet now, her cunt throbbing in need. She ground against Him, but the friction wasn’t right.

“None of that, pet.” His fingers tightened between her shoulders. A warning. “Not until you’ve earned it.”

She shivered, clenched around him, and oh, that was almost enough. Almost, but she hadn’t earned it yet. So full, so close, and she needed more. He made an amused little sound in the back of His throat and gave her more and...oh, yes. She needed that, still needed more.

“How’s your view, driver?”

“Damn if you weren’t right, Officer Valero.”

“Yes, well, my pet always looks lovely.” He curled His thumb under, and stopped just on the verge of filling her so wonderfully.

Abby wailed.

“Hush, pet. Be still, now.”

It took Abby a moment to get herself under control. Even then, she still took deep, sobbing breaths. She had been wrong about before. This was torture.

The driver whistled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sight quite like that.”

“She’s a very good pet.” He slid his hand up and stroked her hair. “It’s almost a shame I have to leave her like this.”

What, what? He was leaving her? Like this?

He chuckled. “It’s time for me to come pick you up. I’m afraid I can’t keep this up while driving.” His voice strummed down her spine in time with His hand stroking her hair. “So,” He placed His hand back between her shoulders, “you’re going to hold yourself here just like this until I let you know it’s time to wake.”

He wasn’t going to let her come? She choked back a whimper.

“Patience, pet.” His body went still, and Abby’s vision blurred at the edges. She fought to keep the scene in focus.

Her cunt throbbed in time with her pulse, and oh God, its emptiness ached. Focus, she had to keep her focus, hold the moment or she’d disappoint Him. Her thighs were slick from her own juices, the fabric of His uniform’s pants damp beneath her. Abby fixed on that, let that anchor her to the scene He created to distract her.

She couldn’t force the same level of reality, so all the little details faded away—the sounds, the smells, the textures—but she managed to hold on to the big things. And she managed to keep the feel of Him inside her, of Him holding her on the brink. She trembled. How long was He going to keep her like this? She couldn’t spare the concentration to count the seconds, but she knew it took Him ten minutes to get to the Park and Ride, that He typically allowed himself fifteen minutes to account for traffic. And if her bus was late, and He hadn’t taken that into account...

Well, even if He had taken that into account, she’d never make it. She’d hold out as long as she could, but she could feel her need building. Burning. Abby moaned into the glove. Half the distance. She could let her body take her half the distance to release. And then half of that distance. Half and half and half, and fuck, it was torture! What was she thinking?

Wake up, pet. I can see your bus at the light.

Abby woke with a start, still feeling the echo of His fingers inside her, so deliciously full. Still feeling the echo of His glove in her mouth, her throbbing need. She took a ragged breath.

“Riverview Park and Ride,” the driver announced.

Abby rang the bell. She felt shaky and out of sorts, and while her cunt wasn’t throbbing like it had been, it was pleasantly warm, a delightful reminder (and promise) that He wasn’t done with her. She gathered up her bag and stood as the bus rolled to a stop.

“Thank you,” she said to the driver, all but skipping off the bus.

“Have a good weekend,” the driver called out after her, but her focus was on her Master, not the driver.

He was standing in front of the Civic, and when Abby got close enough to make out His expression, she was thrilled to see He was still in disciplinarian mode.

“Abigail,” He said, stepping around to open the door for her.

“Thank you, Sir.”

He shut the door once she had settled into her seat. “We have reservations at Dorothy’s Steak House,” He said once He was inside the car. “You have a choice. You can take care of yourself on the drive over, or you can wait and let me watch you squirm through dinner. There’s no punishment if you come now, but I believe you know my preference.”

Oh, yes, she knew His preference. She held her bag tight in her lap and squeezed her thighs together. Patience. She had survived the rest of the bus ride. She could make it through dinner. Hopefully. She could try, anyway. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s a good pet.” He glanced over at her as He started the car, and the heat in His eyes thrust her right back to her (welcome) torture. “You will be pleased with your reward for waiting.”

She was always pleased when He rewarded her. Her smile widened. She was going to have a wonderful weekend.

And on Monday, she would be a good passenger (pet) and offer to show the new driver the alternate route.