The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I. A Day in the Life

August 17, 2001

I wake up and take a look at the alarm clock on my bed’s headboard-6:20 am. Last day of my summer job at Jacob’s Computer Emporium. It would’ve been nice to have my last summer of high school summer vacation be a normal “summer vacation” of rest and relaxation without the headache of a summer job; then again, I am going off to college after I graduate this school year and my mom expects me to put some money in the bank towards schooling. She’s going to help me with college expenses, but expects me to make as much money on my own as possible. She believes that even though one may get help in an endeavor, it is still best to do as much for yourself as you can. Besides, it is nice to listen to Shirley Manson in the morning rather than a BEEP, BEEP, BEEP of a clock radio alarm. The radio/clock/cd player was the most expensive thing I bought with the money from my summer job ($60 at a Sears in the local mall), and perhaps the most satisfying purchase I could have ever made.

So, looking forward to the last known weekend without homework for next ten or so months, I click the alarm off and get out of bed.

After a quick breakfast and running a brush through my hair a couple times, I go out the door and make my way to the bus stop. I’ve been reading Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman’s “Deathgate Cycle” during the summer and it has been a riot. The bus comes and I put the last book in the series back up in my backpack and get on.

I’ve been riding the bus all summer and I have gotten into a habit of watching the people. Some because they are attractive, some because just because they seem interesting. I eyeball the crowd on the bus for one in particular that is in the former category. She’s been riding on the same bus at the same time as my morning commute to work (damn that sounds so grownup) since I started my job. Finding her, I sit in a seat where I can watch her without noticing my gaze. She’s a college student and gets off the bus at the local college 3 stops before I get off. Most of the time I see her with a book open and a highlighter in hand. This morning is no exception. She’s wearing blue jeans and one of those cute little t-shirts that show off the midriff.

At the regular stop, she gets up to get off the bus, showing off how tight her blue jeans really are, and goes on out the bus door. I get off the bus at the customery fifteen minutes before the bossman opens the store, and I get a medium CafÃÂ mocha at the coffeehouse that is in the same shopping center as the computer store.

So Tim (the other employee), the bossman (Jacob Peterson), and I go through the morning routine-receiving in inventory into the store’s computer from yesterday’s shipment, helping customers, and repairing computers.

Jacob takes me out to lunch for my last day as his employee.

Once seated at the restaurant, Jacob says, “You know Jack, it’s been great having you as an employee. I’m going to miss having you around. If you want, you can come back next summer-there’ll be a place for you.”

“Jacob, I’d really like to say that I’d definitely take you up on your offer, but I’ll be busy touring the in-state colleges, and I’m not sure which one I’ll be going to yet. I’ll also be busy with moving. It has been great working for you though.”

“Well, if you ever need anything, drop by the store and let me know. I’ll get you anything at my cost.”

“Thanks Jacob.”

At the end of the day Jacob gives me my final check and a hearty handshake.

I catch the bus for the ride home and call up Anna to set up a date for Saturday. Nothing too fancy-just dinner and a movie. Although I do ask her to wear that blue shirt-the one that shows off her midriff. . .

II. Genie in the Bottle

I’ve been meaning to pick up the latest “Scientific American” at the local grocery store for a bit now and weirdest thing happened. I was riding my bike past the street I normally take to go to the grocery store on my way home from school. I figured I would just pick it tomorrow; watch some Farscape and read the latest scientific breakthroughs and theories-what more could a scifi nut want?

Anyway, I was two blocks past the street I normally turn onto to get to the grocery store, when I felt a twinge that I just had to get that magazine. I turned my bike around and headed towards the store. I locked my bike up at the shopping center’s bike rack and headed towards Albertsons. I walking past what used to be an empty store space (at least it was 5 weeks ago when I picked up the previous issue of Scientific American), but what had recently been fitted to be an antique store.

The urgent twinge somehow knotted itself into intense curiosity and I entered the store. The man behind the counter looked up from his newspaper and smiled knowingly at me.

“Jack Hanson, your destiny awaits,” said the man.

I must have been grimacing again while trying to make sense of this (I’ve been told I do that when I think real hard but I never notice) because the man behind counter told me not to worry and all will be made clear.

“OK, so what’s happening?”

“A long time ago, a man saw a his homeland ravaged by war. His only wish was to see an end to his people’s suffering. Then one day he came across a lamp in a mountain range while he was hunting. He wasn’t sure if it was worth anything because it was covered in dirt. He started to rub off the dirt to better assess the lamp’s value when a genie came out from the lamp. The genie offered him 3 wishes. His first wish was for the warring to end. His second was for a good ruler to take lordship of the land. And his third wish was for this lamp to only come into the hands of other righteous men who would do good for mankind. The genie granted all three wishes. The man was to become a general who decimated the armies of the evil ruler. Once that occurred, the general then became the ruler of his beloved homeland and ruled it with love and wisdom so that the land flourished and prospered. Then the genie and his lamp disappeared only to come into the hands of other men who would do good works.”

The man behind the counter went quiet, smiled gently, and waited for the information to sink in. My eyes went wide.

“Then you’re. . .”

“Indeed.”

“3 wishes huh?”

The man nodded.

“To be honest, I don’t think I know what to wish for. I mean, the man’s wish was for men who would do good works for the betterment of mankind to receive the lamp. I don’t suppose you would’ve come before me if I was the kind of guy who wished for money, booze, and women.”

“Some advice. Not all the men who I have granted wishes for saw the immediate perils of mankind around him when I appeared before them. They wished for things that they judged to be a way for short-term gratification. They later found these things to be tools to be used when the perils DID become apparent. Very EFFECTIVE tools.”

I took a pause to think.

“Are there limits on the wishes? Like, can I wish for more wishes?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many times I hear that one. About the only two wishes that mortals have dreamt of that I cannot grant is 1) wishing for more wishes and 2)Wishing someone direct harm. Pretty much any wish that effects the wisher alone or is a boon to someone else can be granted. Any wish that I cannot grant won’t be deducted from your allotment and I will endeavor to make it clear why the wish cannot be granted.”

“Wow. Uh, can I like take a day or two to decide on what to wish for?”

“No. Part of the General’s third wish has something to do with this. The power of his third wish places me in the hands of a righteous man, like I told you. This much is easy to grasp. However, beneath the surface of this simple fact lies another dynamic. His third wish also places me in the hands of the righteous man when he would wish for the boons that would give him the most effective tools to do good works for the betterment of mankind.”

“Uh, OK. So can you maybe tell me the 6 most popular wishes?”

“No, that which comes from the wisher’s own heart is what allows the wisher to best ply his good works. Again, the third wish may sound like a simple one, but it is indeed rife with subtleties that even the General could not have imagined.”

“OK, answer me this, do you know what I am going to wish for and what my works are going to be?”

The man smiled again. “I do indeed. However, before you try to take the easy way out, I can’t allow the wish that is on the tip of your tongue. You can’t be told what is in your heart. A man must experience it and come to realize it on his own.”

“Yeah, I thought that might be too easy.”

“I knew you were thinking that. I also know you were stalling for time to come up with your wishes. Your time has come to an end. Make your wishes.”

Then, all of a sudden, inspiration struck. It must’ve been what that fat Greek man felt when he jumped out of his bathtub and shouted Eureka, and what Newton felt when the apple struck him on the head. The world around me became clearer, and it was like I was looking at it for the first time. I knew what my wishes were destined to be.

“OK, here they are:

1. The ability to Teleport anything or anyone en mass or individually from anywhere to anywhere
2. The ability to Remote view at unlimited range as well as sense locally with all human, all animal, and all technological facilities all at once, one at a time, or any combination there within.
3. To Know the exact location of anything or anyone.”

The man gave a satisfied smile. “Your wishes are granted.”

All of a sudden, I was outside the shop. The shop, however, was no longer there; it was just an empty store space just as I remembered it being 5 weeks ago. I walked down to Albertsons, bought my magazine and headed out the door. I got to my bike, unlocked it, and started to get on. Then stopped. I imagined being able to see my backyard. All of a sudden, I saw it. No one was in it. I took a glance at the kitchen window to see if anyone was looking out it-nope. I then took a glance at the side of the storage shed that faces away from the Kitchen window. There should be just enough room. . .

Then that is where I was. I walked out from the side, put my bike in the storage shed, and locked the shed up.

I was hyped. All sorts of possibilities were running through my head. I could be the ultimate spy. Gather information from meetings half a globe away in Russia or China and keep America 10 steps ahead of her competitors. I could be the ultimate soldier. I could teleport troops from bunkers, tanks, and other entrenchments that would cost a dozen men their lives to take out. I could be the ultimate bounty hunter. Finding the fugitives of justice and bringing them back to face their crimes. There would be a lot to think about on how I would use my boons, but I was adamant on one thing-I would make the General proud.

IIIa Powers and Juvenile Exploits

Shoot! My alarm for school didn’t go off. My Alarm/Clock/Radio is flashing 12:00. Power must’ve gone out last night. I got up and got dressed. I looked at my watch on my dresser. I would be late in 5 minutes. I woke up my brother Thomas and mom telling them that the power went out last night-that Thomas missed the bus and mom needed to give him a ride to school. A little experimentation was in order.

I imagined seeing my bike in the storage shed. The whole scene was pitch black. I imagined seeing through those nightvision goggles. Ah, that was better. I then imagined my bike at school, lying on its side beside the school bike rack. I then took a look to see which slots were empty. I imagined my bike in an empty slot. I then imagined my bike lock secured around the bike and the rack. I imagined seeing from the perspective of being on the ceiling looking down into the stalls in the boys’ room closest to my first hour class. All three were empty. I then imagined myself in the one closest to the door.

I dashed out of the boys’ room and headed towards my classroom I stopped at the door, opened it, and coolly took my seat. Just as soon as I felt my ass squeeze my wallet against the seat of my chair, I heard the bell ring. I then let out a deep breath-my high school career perfect attendance was still intact.

At lunch I signed up for the Varsity Football team. Just like I did for the 2 previous school years. This time, however, I was going to make the team. Now, don’t get me wrong. I knew I couldn’t openly display my teleportation ability. I could, however use it in a manner that would deceive the eyes. The human eye can watch a screen that delivers 24 screens a second and consider what it sees as “smooth” video. So I could teleport myself 24 times a second in the various running stages and appear to be running without exerting an iota physical of strain more than standing. Of course I would test this out, but today was the last day to sign-up for football. Tryouts wouldn’t begin till Monday so that gave me nearly a week to get used to such a rate of teleportation.

I got down to the coaches’ offices and entered. There leaning over to sign up for football as well was Lance McNally. He had edged me out of my position in football-wide receiver-2 years running now.

“So Jack, down one last time to give it a try, huh?”

“Yeah, well, this time I believe your attempt is going to be a try, and mine is going to be success.”

“Whatever, MMMBop.”

“Say Lance, care to make a wager?”

“What do you have in mind, Hansen?”

“The person who doesn’t get on has to clean the jersey of the one who does for the entire season.”

“Interesting. Sure, it’s a bet.”

I signed the papers and left for my next class.

After school I got home and dug out the family camcorder. I told mom I had a science project that required videotaping and she OK’d its use. I set up the camcorder and made my first attempt at 24/60 teleportation. I imagined myself going straight ahead and the various running positions. I was in a semi-autopilot run and ended up where I wanted to go. I walked back to my starting position and imagined the same sequence again. This time however, I decided to cut right in the middle of the sequence and then continue parrallel to my original path to the original path’s end. Worked without a hitch. Also, just as I thought, I had felt no physical exertion. I decided on one last test. I walked back to the starting point of the previous two runs. Then I again imagined going the same distance as the first run, but this time I went as fast as I could and still maintain the 24 frame per second teleport. The only thing different I noticed was just that it took far less time to complete the circuit.

I came back inside, went into my room and watched the video. The first two runs were just a guy running on a camcorder for some uknown reason. The last run was a streak of black (my shirt), blue (my shorts), and peach (my skin). I guess I should just teleport if I am going to need to go that fast. I rewound the tape and played the first two runs again in slow motion. Noticing no absences of my image on the screen, I smiled to myself. This was going to be as easy as handing laundry to the hired help.

I then imagined the college student from the bus. Suddenly, I got a strong feeling she was about 15 miles that way-to the northwest. I imagined looking at her. She was in the shower. Whoa-I guess she was a natural redhead, but you wouldn’t know it from her shoulder length black hair. I then moved my sphere of presence from the bathroom (after taking a few more moments to watch the soapsuds fall from her exquisite body) to the bedroom. On the dresser in her bedroom was the day’s mail. I took notice of the address on the envelopes and didn’t see any other name besides Kirstie Schwartz. I looked at her bookshelf and saw many textbooks on Psychology-I guess that was going to be her major. I asked myself where her purse was and got a strong feeling it was fifteen feet in that direction, south from my remote presence, and about fifteen miles Northwest from my true location. Huh, sensing locations in reference to both remote and actual location could come in real handy-I hadn’t even thought of that. I get to her purse and check her student ID in her pocketbook. Sophmore. I check her driver’s license. Same address as on the mail. I make careful note of her social security number conveniently imprinted on her license. Arguing with myself as to whether or not to stick around to watch her get dressed, I eventually drop the feed. I write down her name, address, and social security number in my journal. I put my journal aside and start my homework.

IIIb The Games People Play

Over the next several days I dropped in on Kirstie remotely. She’s very studious. At night she stays home, absorbs her school material and watches only a TV program or two at night. She makes some calls to some friends of hers and chats small talk for a while. All very normal and innocent. Till the Saturday before football tryouts. I just dropped in after she opened her bedroom door wrapped in a towel. Now, over the last several days I have berated myself to stop watching her when she is nude. Sometimes the angel on my right shoulder won. Sometimes the devil on my left won. Tonight the devil won. She made her way to her bedroom closet and started to remove something deep from within her closet. Putting it on her bed I see it is a leather bag of the type one puts suits in for traveling. She unzips the bag and reveals articles of black leather clothing. She gets some leather protecting/cleaning agent from the top shelf of her closet.

Still naked, she pulls out a thin black marble slab from beneath her bed. Since it rolled out way too easy I took a look under the slab to find a structure of extending coasters attached to the slab. Then she reverently took one piece of black leather clothing from her bed at a time and placed them on the slab in such a way as to show what the outfit looks like. After placing each piece of clothing on the slab she said, “In the name of the Mistress.”

Kneeling before the completed outfit, she then licked every square inch of it starting from the elbow length gloves and ending at the soles of the knee high leather boots. After each article of clothing was licked, she chanted, “For her glory.” She then treated each article with the leather cleaner/protectant. After the last article of clothing was laid back down on the marble slab, she kneeled back down in front of it, then she leaned forward and pressed her head to the ground, then raised her hands, palms up, in supplication. She then started to shudder and her hands fell back to the ground to steady herself.

She then stood up, and started to dress in the black leather outfit. She was breathtaking. The outfit showed enough to tempt any man, but concealed enough to allow an air of authority. She then went to the bathroom to apply her make up, ending with black lip liner. She then picked up the most startling crimson lipstick and wrote:

www.maneater.com/~1024.

Then she looked at me. She knew I was there and watching and she GAVE ME A WINK! I dropped the feed immediately. My heart was pounding and I was sweating. How long did she know I was watching? How DID she know I was watching? I made my way to the bathroom, wetted a washcloth in cold water ran it over my face. My head cleared, I decided to go ahead and log onto the web site that she wrote on her mirror. She evidently wants me to see something; maybe it’ll have some answers to the questions I have.

I go to the site and start reading. It appears to be a BDSM site. It has streaming video and normally requires payment, but tonight it had “No Age checks required-all access free for tonight only.” They are playing this as a big promotion for more business, but I wonder how much it has to do with a certain personal invite. I click on the link that tells about “The Mistress.”

The page that comes up is about ‘Mistress Alexis’ but has a picture of Kirstie on it. It has a long speech on pain/pleasure interaction and has another on the pleasures of submission and domination and of a pinnacle the submitter and subjugator come to at the peak of a session. Yep, definitely a Psych major.

I click on “In the dungeon.” A page comes up that says another live feed will start at 10:30. In about an hour.

Curious as to what she was doing, I decided to pop in remotely on Kirstie again. She was in a limousine driving on the highway. As soon as I appeared, her eyes flicked to where my point of view was situated-the couch-seat directly in front of her. I then felt a velvet hand on my sphere of perception though I could see nothing of the sort.

<Relax. I am doing this so that we may speak. Who are you.>

<Uh, Robert.>

<I know that you are lying. The ability that allows me to speak with you is the perfect lie detector. Now, I can extract the information I want from the ashes of your destroyed mind {here I felt what can be considered a papercut rip across my sphere of telepresence}, or you can truthfully answer my questions. Again, who are you.>

<My name is Jack. Jack Hansen.>

<That’s better {here I felt the velvet hand start to caress away the sting of her attack}. Now, why have you been watching me?>

<Well, this is a little embarrassing. I used to see you on the bus on the way to your college. I had a summer job that put me on the same bus. I just started going back to school, so my summer job came to an end, and I no longer had the need to ride the bus. Then an event happened that changed my life. I was endowed with certain abilities. I started exercising these abilities to find their limits. In coming up with things to do with these abilities I suddenly remembered the girl from the bus. You know, I did sorta have a crush on you. I knew I was too young though so I never thought to ask you out or anything. Anyway, I found you interesting, and I wanted to get to know you better. I didn’t think you noticed when I was there though. You never gave any indication before tonight.>

<Aaauuuh, so it’s puppy love? Well, boyo, this rose has a few more thorns than you imagined, huh? Anyway, what I want is for you to go to the web site and watch a little show I am going to put on there. It is going to get a little intense there. I know you can just zip your way to the location that it is going to take place at, but it is a little easier to handle the scene when viewed from a video screen than being there as you would be. I just want you to know that I am not angry at being watched. Actually I like to be watched. That is part of the reason I have the website. I am, however, nervous as to the usage of any information you might’ve gathered on me. Identity theft can destroy a person’s credit-just for an example. What information have you gathered on me so far?>

<Honestly not as much as you may expect. I have your name, address, Social Security Number, and Driver’s License Number. I know your favorite color is green and your favorite Author is Keats. You are fiscally conservative and socially liberal. Oh, and your first dog was a cocker spaniel named Buttons.>

<I guess that isn’t too bad, though why don’t you have a lot more if you took my Social?>

<Honestly, I haven’t decided to take that step. I have been kinda watching you like one reads a novel. Everything I have seen up to tonight just hasn’t needed any background or context. Everything I’ve seen has just been a woman trying to make a life on her own.>

<But now you do have a situation that a little context may make some sense of, huh? Well, do me a favor. Go ahead and watch the netcast. Then, next Saturday, go ahead and drop by in person at my place at 6. Let me explain things my way. If you think I am lying, or trying to hide anything then go ahead and do your little background check. Sound fair?>

<Yeah. Uh, you seem to be taking this with a lot less anger than I would’ve thought. I know you told me that you like to be watched. But there is a difference between knowing someone knows you know their watching and knowing someone thinks you don’t know.>

<Yeah, but I wanted to meet you. A little honey to attract the bee.>

Then I felt the velvet hand begin to caress my telepresence again. I saw her expression turn from serious to a lusty snarl. Her hand increased its tempo and brought me to the brink.

<I think that’s enough. Gotta leave something to look forward to. Don’t worry. You’ll see something to satisfy in 20 minutes.>

I dropped the feed and got to the computer. At 10:30, a red velvet curtain appeared and raised. Mistress Alexis appeared standing before a woman with a riding crop in hand. She took the end of the crop to the bound and blindfolded woman’s lips and the sub kissed it. Alexis then walked behind the woman and began to spank her. She layed about 15 blows on the woman’s upturned ass, and each time the naked woman thanked Mistress Alexis. By the end, I could tell the woman was raising her rear to meet the blows as opposed to shift her ass to avoid them as I would’ve expected. Her bottom was a nice shade of pink that went well with her blond hair and she was gasping. Mistress Alexis then stepped to the front of the woman and attached a chain to the end of each ring that was at the end of each breast. The leather clad beauty started to add lead weights to the chain. Alexis then began to alternate between striking the woman’s breasts and caressing them with the crop. After the beaten woman shuddered a moment, the Mistress slapped her and went behind the sub again. The dominatrix then stepped closer to the woman and inserted a strap-on of uncomfortable girth (at least it appeared to my inexperienced eyes) and began to thrust her will on the woman in earnest. After a shudder from the leather-clad subjugator, she then walked around to the front of the woman and inserted the tool of her domination into the woman’s mouth and had her clean it till Mistress shuddered again. The curtain closed and a web page came up in the place of the video feed. It read “The Mistress will return in 3 weeks at the normal time.”

I sat at the computer in a daze for a while. I didn’t quite know what to think. I suppose it must be like a person’s first taste of beer. It doesn’t taste good, but you drink it for the buzz. The taste grows on you and you eventually feel let down when you don’t have one with a barbecue steak. I decide I should just get some sleep. I lay down in bed and try for the next half-hour to banish the images of the video screen from my mind. They keep coming. But eventually so does sleep and I drift off into a troubled slumber.

Monday comes and I can hardly wait for school to come to an end. My hour of triumph drew near and it was all I could to keep a silly grin off my face. The last ten minutes of class seemed to take 2 hours. I swear I saw the minute hand move backwards a couple of times. I decided to keep it under my hat because nobody would believe me. Finally, the bell rung and I was up and out of my seat as fast as normal-humanly-possible. I made my way to my locker and put in my schoolbooks and took out my sweat suite. I then made my way to the boys’ room and changed. I just teleported my street clothes to my locker and made my way to the school stadium.

I walk up to the big group of kids waiting for the coach to show, looking for Lance. I didn’t see him. One of the tight ends saw me and meandered over.

“Looks like today is your lucky day Jack.”

“What do you mean Stan?”

“Lance was in a car accident. He’s at the hospital. He’s in pretty bad shape-the doctors say he is going to be in bed a month, he is going to be in casts for two months, then he’s going to have to start physical therapy.”

“Shit. I mean we had a rivalry and I wanted on the team as a receiver, but I never wanted it this way. What hospital and room is he in? We might’ve not been best buds or anything but I feel I owe him a visit.”

Stan tells me the info and eventually the coach makes his way to the field. I go through the drills and perform far better than any other student trying out for my chosen position-wide receiver. I even wow the coach. I know I should feel pleased, but somehow not competing against my rival sucked the joy out my victory.

Friday I went down to the hospital to see Lance. I nearly cringed when I saw all the tubes, monitors and the two casts he was in. He shot me a look of disdain that hurt.

“Look Lance, I came down here to talk a bit. And I don’t mean gloat. You and I have been after the same thing since our sophmore year. I think that if we weren’t always competing for the same thing we wouldn’t dislike each other like we do. We might’ve even been friends. We both like football, even have the same favorite team-the Cowboys. We like the same type of music-alternative, and even date the same type of girls. I guess what I am saying is that even though I wanted to be on the team, I never wanted anything like this to happen to you and I am sorry that it did.”

I guess he didn’t know what to say because all he could bring himself to do is smile weakly and give a brief nod.

I walked over and took his left hand-which was attached to the arm without the cast-in both mine and said, “Get well soon.”

I began to walk out of his room, but before I made it past the doorway, he said, “Thanks for coming by Jack.”

I looked back at him and said, “Sure thing.”

IIIc Some of Them Want to Abuse You; Some of Them Want to Be Abused

Saturday came and I was trying to decide if I was looking forward to tonight, or dreading it. Deciding not to go totally formal, but not to show up as a slob, I put on some black slacks, a blue polo shirt, my church shoes (the ones with the cool little tassels) and my black leather jacket. At 5:50 I remote viewed the area around the home and found a great hidden place to teleport to. I teleported and walked to Kirstie’s doorstep. I found myself holding my breath-nervous at what was going to come. Kirstie answered the door and gave me a big smile.

She held open the door and gestured toward the couch as she let me in. I sat down and she went to the kitchen. A moment later she called out asking me what I like in my coffee.

“Cream and sugar,” I said trying to sound as sure as one can when one only had coffee twice before in their life.

She came back out and set a cup on the table in front of me and took a seat on the loveseat still further in front of me.

“Let me tell you about myself before you ask any questions. I am sure what I am going to tell you will answer most of them. I was born into a home with two loving parents. We were very happy together. When I was nine though, they were in a terrible car accident and both died. My aunt and uncle were my godparents and they took me in. My parents and I used to go down and visit them on their farm. I loved the farm. Uncle Mark used to take me horseback riding when I visited, and I would help Aunt Janet bake her county-fair favorite apple pies.

“Things were much the same the first few weeks I moved in with them. Over a long period of time things got strange between uncle and me. He would come into a private room like my bedroom or the bathroom when I would be naked. Sometimes he would brush his crotch up against me when I was sitting on his lap. Then one night uncle Mark came into my bedroom when I was asleep and he ... he raped me. He told me to shut up and take it or he was going to hurt me real bad. He told me not to tell anyone and that no one would believe me anyway. I kept quiet for a while. I decided to tell Aunt Janet when I couldn’t take it anymore. She said she didn’t believe me. She said she was furious at me for making up lies about the man who saved me from foster care. She then bent me over and struck me for the first time. That night uncle Mark visited me again. He raped me again, like so many times before, but this time I blacked out. I came to in the morning and expected to see them in the kitchen. They weren’t there. I quickly searched the house but they weren’t there. I went checked and saw that both their truck and car were still in the driveway. I went out to look in the barn and saw them. They were hanging by necks. I cried for a while then went back to the house and dialed 911. I later learned that they changed their will to make me sole beneficiary the night they hung themselves. That night was when Alexis was born. I don’t know how she did it, but she got me away from that danger.

“Now she comes out about once a week on Saturday and stays till mid-morning Sunday. I used to try and figure out what she was doing, but we have come to an understanding. She says she comes out to do things for my own good. She takes care of me and does things for me that I can’t do for myself. Last Saturday, you saw how she comes out. I feel a sense of gratitude toward her for saving me from that horrible home. And deep down I am glad about what happened to my Aunt and Uncle, and I know somehow she made them end their lives. She does her thing when I am not around to preserve us-and I do mine to preserve her.”

“Is she with us right now?”

“I believe she resides in my unconscious and is aware of everything that happens to me, but when I leave, I don’t know what happens.”

“Can I speak with her?”

Kirstie blushed. “Uh, yeah-I kind figured you would want to speak with her. Right this way.”

So Kirstie led us to her bedroom. There she retrieved the leather bag with black leather outfit Mistress Alexis wears. Keeping her eyes from me, she begins her ritual to bring out her alter ego.

Once completed, Alexis gives me a smile much the same as Kirstie gave me but it had sex dripping from it.

“Shall we retire back to the living room?”

Once situated back in the living room, Alexis began.

“She told the truth. She doesn’t have the slightest idea what goes on when she’s ‘out.’ She goes to some dark corner of her mind and pulls some darkened shroud of ignorance over herself like a four-year-old pulling the covers over his head to block out the lightning and thunder. One thing she did kinda mislead you on though. She was trying to mislead you why I am called forth. She inferred I am a survival mechanism. Oh, that is how all this started, but now she does it because she wants to be controlled, to have no choice but to obey. This is where you come in. It used to be that the idea of someone else taking control of her life when she was “out” was enough. However, she has grown beyond that. She needs someone to actually control her when she is “in.” I would love to be that person, but because of the nature of what I am, I simply can’t. She has started a campus search for a BDSM ring that would give her what she needs. However, these are people inside a sphere of relations that could harm her professionally once she enters her field. So I have done some investigations for people outside her normal group of associates that can give her what she needs but minimizes her risks. Then you came. The perfect candidate. You’re a blank slate. One doesn’t come across a Master that can be taught how to dominate a slave in every way and in the most effective manner very often. Also, in me being your mentor I can dominate her by proxy-while not as satisfying as actually wearing the dominatrix garb before her, it is more insidious to be subjugated by an unseen part of yourself; to have all your deep dark secrets analyzed and brought out in the light to a third party who a part of you decided to empower as her master. What do you say?”

“Well, I have some question first. Exactly how did you have it so your aunt and uncle kill themselves?”

“Mind control. I suppressed their control over their motor functions but kept them very much conscious as their own limbs betrayed them. The petrifying terror their minds screamed was a symphony.”

“Did you have powers before the night of the killing slash suicide?”

“The powers were there but dormant. Being raped after being betrayed by someone I loved was the catalyst that freed them. And because I was the one here when they were released, I am the one who has them. She doesn’t even know they exist.”

“Is mind control the only power you have?”

She gives me a smirk, “Isn’t it impressive enough? But yeah, it is.”

“Does Kirstie have to go through the ritual for you to emerge?”

“She believes she does, but in all actuality, she doesn’t. I can emerge any time I want. Oh I wouldn’t do anything to stop it. It is a form of self worship that is far superior to that which most experience.”

“If it was you who sensed me all this time, how does Kirstie know who I am?”

“She and I had a little conversation. We came to an agreement that should you accept, you would be her master.”

“How did you hold this conversation?”

“Telepathically of course. A direct mental link is the only way to reach her when I am ‘in.’ Oh, she remembers writing down questions, summoning me, her waking up, reading my replies and questions, then her answering my questions and adding more questions of her own. She remembers this whole thing taking about 3 hours, when in truth it took about 2 minutes. It must’ve seemed very tedious to her, but it was good for her submissive tendencies to receive the reinforcement.”

“Can you use your mind control powers when you are ‘out?’”

“No I can’t. When I am out I don’t have access to the entire mind and the powers are in a portion that is out of reach when I am out.”

“So, if we’re going to do this, when do we start?”

“There’s no time like the present.”

“Lead on.”

She went to her bedroom to get a coat and I gulped down the rest of my coffee. She called up a Charles on her cell phone. We waited ten minutes for Charles to bring the limo to the apartment.

Once in the limo, Kirstie suggested I sit back, relax, and try to clear my mind.

“We could try a little exercise to help you relax.”

“Uh, you mean the exercise from last Saturday?”

She nodded.

Before I could decide if the wet stain in my pants would be worth sensations I felt last weekend (yes, it was THAT fast) I felt the velvet hand in my mind again. This time though, it felt more tangible, more THERE. Soon all thought ceased, and the only thing that mattered was feeling. Soon I saw vibrant reds turn to lush violets turn to the most serene blues. Colors came, then mixed, then separated. Then the release came. It wasn’t like the normal relaxation after making it to the peak of the mountain; it was more like finally falling asleep after relaxing in a favorite chair.

I look down, expecting to find a wet mess down the front of my pants, but only found the deflating proof of my calmness. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ralxed?”

“Hmm, hmmm.” Realization came to me that the limo had stopped. We exited the vehicle and made our way into the building that the limo was parked outside of.

Once inside, Alexis retrieved a leather bag that resembled the leather bag she kept her persona’s garb in.

“Put these on; they should fit.”

I put on the clothes in the bag; they fit like sleek black glove. She looked me over appreciatively-much like a predator looking at a favorite meal and I thought she was going to have her way with me again.

We made our way to a room that was divided with a red velvet curtain. She pressed a button on a remote and the curtains parted revealing a woman blindfolded and bound in chains attached to the ceiling. Alexis handed me a riding crop and whispered in my ear, “Let’s begin.”

I worked her over as the instructions came to me from the siren of bondage. She was a demanding Mistress and I am sure that my emotional exhaustion surpassed the physical exhaustion of the bound subject.

When the session was complete, she looked at the handiwork of Master and slave and had a twinkle in her eye. “Oh yes,” Alexis said and bit her lip in her arousal, “Kirstie is going to love you.”

She glanced down at my erection. “Why didn’t you fuck her?”

“She was an object-a thing to model what Kirstie desires for me to do to her. When I do have sex for the first time, I want it to be more than an act of winning a battle of wills. I want it to show the love of two people who surrender their will to each other. Anyway, when will I be ready for Kirstie?”

“I was thinking next Saturday. I laid out the basic groundwork for her sessions tonight-well with the exception of one thing. I figured we would use next week to show different variances and directions you can take her sessions.”

“Well, it looks like this is the end of the session for tonight-I need to be getting home. When do I show for the next lesson?”

Alexis looked a bit disappointed. “Tomorrow at 7. In this room.”

“I’ll see you then.”

I teleported back to my room. I think that Alexis wanted to have some additional fun with me and part of me wanted that too. But too much had already gone on tonight and I already had enough internalize without any more revelations coming out. I turned out the lights and climbed into bed-I was out before my head hit the pillow.

So, Sunday all the way through Friday I met Alexis at her dungeon/studio to learn the finer points of domination. Each time with a different sub tied and blindfolded. At one point she brought in an Akita but I told her I was not going to do that. As a Master I should get some enjoyment in what I was doing and the very idea of a dog even in the same room just killed the enjoyment I was beginning to have.

Saturday night I teleported to the studio there was a note there—“Meet me at my Home-AK.”

I teleported to Kirstie’s home. I made my way to her bedroom and found Kirstie on the bed-nude, bound, and blindfolded. On a custom made display, I found all the instruments Alexis had taught me.

I started off the same way as I was mentored by Alexis-a gradual building of pain and torment. She writhed on the bed and I could tell she was anticipating the pleasure that would follow. However, I didn’t allow any pleasure. I made sure not to put a mark out of place-all were perfectly laid to the location just as I was instructed-but no pleasure was taken from my ministrations.

“Kirstie, who is your Master?”

“You . . . you are.”

Another bout of suffering.

“Whose decision is the only one that counts in this room?”

“Yours.”

I have asked for the ability to sense with all the facilities of mankind-I wondered if that included mind reading. It did. I saw that Kirstie had constructed a kind of mental shrine in her head. One that had Alexis as the goddess.

I took a ball gag from the display and put it in place.

“Kirstie, we are going to have a little conversation, although this conversation is going to be a little different. I am going to speak, and you are going to think what I speak.

“Who is your Master, Kirstie?”

<You are.>

“Then what are you doing with a shrine of Alexis in your mind? A man cannot serve two masters. Turn your back to Alexis’s image. Whose decision is the only one that counts in this room-imagine my face as you answer.”

<Yours.>

“You will keep my face in the forefront of your thoughts. Whose orders do you obey?”

Another bout of pain.

“I asked you a question. Whose orders do you obey?”

<Yours.>

Every muscle in her body was straining. She was shuddering from the fire at her nerve endings and the endorphins flooding her mind.

“Kirstie, this shrine is dead. It has been destroyed by the very one who you worship here. She destroyed it by her inability to do what you worship her for-be your master. Kirstie build a new shrine in your mind and leave this one. Now.”

In her mind the Shrine of Alexis was a crumbled ruin. It was reduced to pure dust and then was gone. In its place stood a Gothic cathedral and she entered.

“Kirstie, who do you worship in this place?”

<You.>

Then an alter appeared and a perfected version of me was standing upon the alter.

“Kirstie, kneel before the Altar.”

She knelt.

“Kirstie, who is your master?”

A few more licks of pain

<You are.>

“Whose decision is the only one that matters?”

<Yours.>

“Whose orders do you obey?”

<Yours.>

“Kirstie, this is going to be your last session.”

I then turned on the pleasure

“You are my slave and you will serve to please me.”

Here I injected a small dose of heroine in her arm.

“What you want is irrelevant, mine is paramount.”

More pleasure still. “And hurting, and dehumanizing you is not what I want, it does not please me. Look into my eyes Kirstie”

She looked up into the eyes of my image at my altar.

“You are mine. My decisions are the only ones that matter. Mine are the only orders that matter. My wishes are your Axioms. My pleasure is your goal. This is your last BDSM session. It is so because it does not please me. Do you understand?”

<Yes.>

I can tell she was on the edge. “Kirstie, you are to keep looking into my eyes as you ride out the wave.”

And then the wave came. It crashed down on her, and she screamed as she became lost in it. No-she wasn’t lost. She knew where she was. She was kneeling at the feet of her god. Everything else was lost-nothing else mattered. Moments later as the crashing wave became nothing more than a gentle ripple, Kirstie sank into the river of dreams.

I untied her limbs, removed her blindfold, and covered her up. I went to the kitchen, got a glass of water, and set it by her nightstand. I teleported back to my room, changed into some PJ’s and bid my mom and brother goodnight. I then teleported back to Kirstie’s room. She was still asleep. Figuring she was out for the night, I retired to the couch in the living room.

I woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon sizzling on an electric range.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning master.”

Smiling, I pulled the covers off and made my way into the kitchen.

I came up behind Kirstie and kissed the back of her neck. She “hmmmed” and wiggled her butt against my morning affliction.

Spotting the coffee in the pot, I poured myself a decent dose of morning adrenaline sat at the dining room table.

“How do you like your eggs?”

“Over well.”

A few minutes later a plate appeared before me and I consumed it appreciatively.

Kirstie sat down on the floor on my right side and ate her breakfast. I looked at the signs of handiwork and hoped another session wouldn’t be necessary.

“What do you normally do on a Sunday morning?”

Kirstie looked up at me with a questioning look on her pretty face.

“I mean what did you normally do before Alexis trumped your Sunday mornings?”

“I read the paper, went over bills, watched the cable news shows.”

I clicked on the TV in the kitchen and turned it loud enough so I could hear it in the dining room.

When she finished eating, she took my plate and her to the kitchen and I went to the bathroom.

“Kirstie, come in her for a minute.”

She came in and asked, “Master?”

“Run me a bath and get the shaving materials together.”

After the bath was ready I got in and looked at her expectantly. She picked up a bar of soap and started her task. Her feminine hands on my body were true paradise. She finally got to my dawn torment and doctored it love and her right hand. When she was done cleansing the soap suds from my body, she shaved me. I stood up when the bath was done and she dried me off. She found a couple of my ticklish spots in the process.

“Master’s ticklish.”

“You are to tell no one,” I said with mock seriousness.

So the rest of the week I made appearances at my home to give the impression that I still lived there but I in truth lived over at Kirstie’s.