The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Persuasive

CHAPTER 6

DISCLAIMER: This is more of a plot-movement chapter. There is some sexual content, but you might be disappointed in the result. Just a warning.

I felt like shit. My alarm went off and I hit snooze at least twice before remembering I had to go in for tests and stuff; I wasn’t just going to be late for school. And today, no nice hand on me, no real understanding of what lay ahead. I felt a surge of need, like I just wanted to forget all the confusion of the last couple days. Maybe I needed to visit Mrs. Jameson again. Feel like everything wasn’t going mad.

I had heard dad come in about 3am, just after the faint moans and cries from my sister’s room had finally ceased. The noises were sexy as hell, but I couldn’t even bring myself to go peek, or jack off or anything. I heard other noises after he got home, and, hating myself but unable to stop, I had gone to my door and listened. He was fucking Sabine. No question. I felt the acid burn of hate, but for him, or me, or something else entirely, I wasn’t sure. I think I finally fell asleep just before four and even then, my dreams were dark.

I got out of bed and pulled on clothes, heading out without stopping downstairs for breakfast. I walked down past the corner all the way to the bus stop. I could have called for a car, but I felt like punishing myself. I got to the hospital just about 20 minutes late and waited for another 40 before they saw me. No one to come with me or visit me this time. Dr. Downing looked down my throat and prodded around, and eventually told me that although the incisions had healed really well, there was some inflammation that she didn’t like. She prescribed some anti-inflammatory for me and then asked me where my parents were. I told her I didn’t know. The vision that flashed through my head of where they might be was like a knife stab right through my gut. So she proceeded to tell me the results of the tests on the lump they took out of my throat. I listened for ten minutes and realized what she was saying was ‘we don’t know what the hell it was or whether it will come back’. There was lots of medical speak, but she just didn’t know. Right now, I missed it. I’d been happier with it in.

I thanked her and got my coat and said my goodbyes and, just as I was heading outside, got a call from my dad. It was unusual, but not unheard of.

“Hey, Bill, you still at home?” he asked in his normally curt business voice. Then I heard him talk to someone else for a moment and waited until their conversation had finished. I wanted to punch him in the face.

“No, dad,” I said, bitterly, “I’m at the hospital for my tests.”

“OK great. I want you to come to my office. We’ll have lunch. I need to talk to you about some stuff.” I wondered what he knew. What she had been unable to keep from him.

“Dad, I don’t feel great. I think I’m going to head home...”

“Great. See you when you get here.” He hung up. It was just after ten. It would take me almost fifty minutes to get to his building by bus and walk.

I went outside into the light drizzle, and sat sullenly at the bus stop. I didn’t plan on going. Fuck him. I was going home. I got on the bus to downtown. Damnit.

I sat on the bus, looking out at the drizzle, watching as buildings and cars went by. It was after eleven by the time I got to his building and the front receptionist sent me up to the top floor.

I entered the beautifully decorated upper floor. Tasteful plants, silver and wood, diffuse lighting and soft corners gave a sense of old school, classic strength. Yet another receptionist, a young man with very shiny black hair, spoke for a moment on his headset to tell someone else that he was sending me through. I went back to his private office suite. Adriana was not at her desk. I assumed she was inside with dad. I waited for five minutes, then ten. Then I went and knocked on dad’s huge mahogany doors.

A moment later, a tall, classically beautiful redhead opened the door a crack. Ms. Faith. Rebecca Faith. My dad’s executive assistant. She had small glasses on and her copper red hair was up in a bun behind her head, held in place by two elegantly lacquered chopsticks. Her make-up was professional, with smoky eye-shadow and well mascara’ed lashes, but her lipstick was perhaps a shade too red for just business. She wore a jade green blouse of what might have been silk and a black skirt with a wide black belt. Her legs, long and firm, wore dark stockings that I’m sure had a single line up the back. Her heels were tall and black, adding beautifully to her shapely calves and long legs.

She looked at me for a moment, as if trying to remember who I was.

“Oh, hello, Bill,” she started. All my dad’s associates called me Bill. “I meant to come out and tell you. Your father regrets to inform you that pressing business pulled him away at the last moment.”

“You are kidding me,” I said. The hate soared. An hour to get here.

“No,” she gave me a sort of pouty sad face, “sorry! He said I should get you a car if you want one.”

Something broke. Something snapped. He had taken too much from me, and I was going to take from him now.

“Go inside, Rebecca,” I said, my voice iron. I gave no room for discussion.

She turned and walked back inside. Dad’s office was large, with an oversized dark wood desk and a leather chair. A few visitor chairs sat on the large intricate rug in front of a fireplace that was just for show. It was an office that spoke of old deals and imperial strength. It was like an old scotch. A large black lounge stood against the far wall.

“Do you want to wait, is that it?” she asked, striding over to the little side desk that was her workspace.

“No. Come back here,” I could feel the extra power in my voice, like it was getting lower in pitch.

She came back.

“What then? I told you, he won’t be back...”

“Rebecca, listen to me,” I interrupted. “You are going to do exactly what I tell you to do. You are going to listen to me quietly and attentively, do you understand?”

Her pupils widened more rapidly than I’d seen yet. I could see that look of concentration on her face I’d seen before, especially that first time with Vickie.

“Kneel on the rug.”

She knelt, dropping down to her knees. Her lips quivered as if she were trying to speak.

“Rebecca, I’m going to fuck you. Do what I tell you. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to cooperate.”

“I can’t...,” she whispered, like it was an effort to speak.

“You can. You will, Rebecca. You are going to do exactly as I tell you to,” I said, pouring every ounce of steel and anger I had into my words.

“But your father...” her face looked pained, like she was speaking through a heavy migraine. “If I ever...” her voice gave out.

“You are mine, now! Not his!” I watched her eyes roll up in her head and she half swooned, almost falling to the rug. Her hand dropped her notepad and went to her head. She wasn’t crying, but she was trembling hard enough for me to see from here, and in obvious anguish. I wanted to cry, or scream, or just burn the whole fucking building to the ground. It wasn’t fair. Rebecca didn’t deserve this. I wasn’t this person. This thing, this ‘gift’ had turned me into something I wasn’t. I was trembling, too. I collapsed onto the black leather sofa and put my head in my hands. I took some slow breaths. I couldn’t.

I looked up. She was kneeling there, on the rug, eyes wide behind her glasses, just waiting for me.

“I”m sorry, Rebecca. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything.

“I’d like you to answer some questions for me, if you can,” I wanted to solve this puzzle and somehow make this better.

“OK. I can do that, unless they are about your father,” she said. Her voice was weak.

“Even about him. Did he tell you not to talk about him?”

“Um.... I do want to tell you....,” she said. I thought it looked like her whole body was tense, like a knotted muscle.

“You can tell me Rebecca. It’s ok to tell me anything, ok?”

“Thank you. Yes. Yes, he told me not to talk about him,” she admitted.

“And now you will, though?” I asked.

“If you ask.”

“Do you have sex with my dad?” My stomach clenched waiting for the answer.

“Yes,” she said, almost too softly to hear.

“Do you want to? Or do you have to?” I asked.

“I have to. He’s very hard to say no to. I don’t... I’m good at my job.”

“I’m sure of it. Adriana does too?” I already knew the answer.

“Yes, although...”

“What, Rebecca?”

“Adriana’s share is mostly with her mouth. When he wants a blowjob, he calls for her. When he wants sex, that’s mostly me. He loves her mouth. Sometimes he wants me to watch, or to help her...” Wow.

“OK, Rebecca, please listen to me now. You don’t have to do that anymore. OK?”

“But my job...”

“No. Listen, you don’t have to do that with him anymore. If he tries to fire you or punish you or anything, you know you have backup. You have a friend. Me. And you know that it’s illegal, and that you can sue the ever-living shit out of him. If you want to have sex with him, do whatever you want, but if you are doing it out of fear, or because he makes you, or anything... you tell him I said you didn’t have to.”

“You?” she asked, her eyes wide in wonderment.

“Yes. You feel free to tell him anything you want about this conversation. You feel free to tell him that I said you were done,” I said. “I can take it. You take care of yourself.”

“Thank you,” she started crying. Sobbing. “Thank you, Bill.”

“Billy, please. No one calls me Bill but him. And you can get up. I’m so sorry for what I did to you, Rebecca.”

“You... you know, it feels the same,” she sniffled, dabbing at her eyes, trying not to ruin her make-up, “when you told me to kneel... it’s almost the same as when he tells me to do things.”

“Yeah?” I wondered.

“Yeah... only... yours is different. It’s stronger, for one, and it feels different. I knelt because I wanted to kneel. When he tells me to do things... I do it because, well, I have to. I feel afraid about what might happen if I don’t. But it doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

Same thing?

“When you say something, Billy, its... I don’t know... it’s like I take it in and really, really listen. Like I agree and am so happy to agree. I don’t feel afraid. I can’t even be mad at you about it. And just like your dad’s, if I stop thinking about it... really concentrating... suddenly I don’t remember that it happens at all. It just feels natural.” She was re-arranging her hair and skirt now, putting herself back into perfect order.

So mine was different. Better maybe. Stronger maybe. I don’t think it made it right. Damnit.

“Does it work over the phone?” I asked. She would know.

“Not as much, no. Not without him telling me to expect a phone call and do what I’m told first.” Interesting.

“OK. Rebecca, I’d love it if you could do me a favor. I’d love to just let you decide if you want to do it or not, but I can’t. I can’t turn it off,” I said.

“It’s ok. I understand. What is it?” Her eyes were wider. She was expecting the worst.

“When you get a chance, get Adrianna to call me,” I said simply. “I want to have this conversation with her, too.”

She let out a relieved sigh. “I definitely will.”

I stood up to leave, and she stood up abruptly too. I realized that I had been thinking of her as a scared girl for the last few minutes, rather than the stone-hard super-efficient model of perfection that had always been my image of her.

“Billy,” she said and I turned towards her. “Thank you.” She gave me a big hug, he body was warm and soft against me. Her perfume and shampoo were subtle and intensely feminine. I hugged her back.

“You’re welcome. I owed it to you after... after what I almost did,” I said.

“But you didn’t.”

Yeah. I hadn’t. This time.

I asked her to call a car for me and left. She closed the enormous doors after me. I went home, staring out the window at the drizzle, my head against the glass.

I came in the door and headed to the stairs. All I wanted was some time in my room. I heard a soft voice call out from the den. Sabine.

“Billy, is that you?”

I ignored it and kept up the stairs. I heard her high heels on the floor of the hall.

“Billy, can we talk?” I turned around. She was down below, looking up, her hands wringing. She wore a white silk blouse, the first two buttons undone. Especially from up on the staircase, there was a lot of cleavage on display. Sabine also had on a tight black skirt, dark hose, and some very high black heels. She wore heavy gold earrings and necklace. Her blue-green eyes were very bright.

“Not right now, Sabine,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as I could. I couldn’t look at her without hearing the sounds from last night and feeling the hate rise at the back of my throat again. I understood better now, and, rationally, I could hardly blame Sabine, but it was still too raw.

“You sure you can’t come talk for even a moment?” she asked, and one hand undid one of the buttons on her blouse, then another. Her breasts were on clear display from up here, held in check only by a black bra. “I need to talk to you...”

“No. Sabine.... No, not now.” I started back up the stairs.

“Mommy,” she said, almost too soft to hear. “You have to call me mommy. I know you want to.” Her lips were very red.

“I’m going to my room,” I said, feeling the acid burn in my gut.

“Oh, ok, Billy,” she said, her hand running through her white-blonde hair. Her tone was sad, hurt. “Maybe we can talk when you are less busy.”

I firmly closed the door to my room and crashed face-first to the bed. It wasn’t even noon yet.