The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Above That Ye Are Able

This story may be distributed via any on-line medium, so long as no one is charged any amount for access to the story, and the above e-mail address and this disclaimer are retained verbatim.

Copyright © 1999 Q. Daphne A.

* * *

“There hath no temptation taken you but such as it common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”

—1 Corinthians 10:13

“Um, I feel kind of strange,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“But... I should...” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“But I feel strange, so strange...” she said.

“But you feel good,” he said.

“I feel... good?” she asked.

“That’s right,” he said. “You feel good.”

“I feel good,” she replied.

There is nothing wrong with me, Stan thought, staring at the screen of computer, that a blowjob would not fix. This, or some similar sex-related thought, were a constant refrain in his idle moments. There was, truly, nothing wrong with his life, as he would be the first to admit. He had a job that he loved (and who loved him back, in the form of a solidly upper-middle-class paycheck), no debts to speak of, interesting and creative friends, hobbies and interests and diversions, a nice apartment in a nice part of town, and a gorgeous, talented, funny, intelligent girlfriend who loved him, and who he loved.

A gorgeous, talented, funny, intelligent, frigid girlfriend.

That’s not fair, he thought; Clarissa is not frigid. She hugs and cuddles and kisses and flirts with me. She screams and moans and carries on in bed. She likes sex, a lot, when we have it. Once or twice a month.

He sighed, and tried to get back to work, but the work would not be gotten back to. I’m horny, he thought. I’m horny, and I just had sex with Clair last week, so she’s not going to be in the mood for at least another week or two. He wasn’t quite sure how he got into this situation. Sex, for him, was like food or air; a steady supply was required, and the lack became obvious in no time at all. A girlfriend who wanted to have sex three times a day would have been entirely acceptable to him.

In the kind of joke that the universe seems unduly fond of, he found himself with the perfect woman, except in that one particular regard. Every other single aspect of his life with Clarissa was a delight, and only a stupid man would not appreciate how good he had it. He was not a stupid man.

Nor a dishonest one, despite his raging hormones. In the three years they’d been together, he hadn’t cheated on her once, despite more temptation that he could easily recall.

He watched one of his coworkers walk by, her nicely rounded ass outlined by her jeans. He didn’t even look at her face; it could have been any of the shapely young women who worked on his floor. He could imagine himself wrapping his hands around her thin waist, unzipping those jeans, pulling them down, fondling that smooth, creamy ass, sliding his fingers down to her pussy, parting her for his already-hard cock.

He looked away, and started packing his briefcase to head home for the evening.

“I think something bad is happening to me,” she said.

“Nothing bad is happening to you,” he said.

“I feel... very strange, lightheaded. I can’t think clearly,” she said.

“You can’t think clearly,” he said.

“I can’t think... clearly,” she said.

“You can’t think,” he said.

“What? I can’t ... think?” she asked.

“You can’t think,” he said.

“I can’t think,” she replied.

Later, he couldn’t say exactly how the conversation turned to Kendra, but it did. Clarissa’s personality attracted the sweet young things at her work like a magnet. Kendra was the latest bit of sparkle to fall into alignment. Kendra also had a filthy mouth, something that gave Clarissa no end of amusement. In any event, upon the couch, after dinner, after a drink or two, the conversation turned to Kendra.

Clarissa was having a delightful time trashing Kendra’s boyfriend of the moment. This boyfriend seemed to set new standards for cretinous behavior towards women, which, given Kendra’s history, was something of an accomplishment.

“And then, he told Kendra, ‘You’re such a sweet little...’” Clarissa stopped, smiling.”

“A what?” Stan knew the ritual. Clarissa had to be coaxed into saying anything naughty; it was a game for them both. Washing Clarissa’s mouth out with soap would have simply rendered the soap cleaner.

“I can’t say it.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“He said she was a doll,” Clarissa said, with mock finality.

“No, he didn’t. You wouldn’t be twinkling like that if that was all he said. Spill.”


“Can! Do it.” Stan’s role was to act irritated, but the truth was that he rather enjoyed the feeling of “making” her use bad language.

“Uh, you know. A somethingdoll.”


“Nope, nastier than that.”

“Uh, slutdoll?”

“Stan! That doesn’t make any sense, it’s two nouns.”

“So’s sexdoll.”

Clarissa sighed. “Anyway, no, it wasn’t that.”

“C’mon, Clair!”

There was a pregnant pause. Stan felt the thrill of victory. “He said he was her ‘fuckdoll’!”

Stan shrugged. “Well, from what you’ve told me, that’s not a bad description of Kendra,” he said.

A pillow in the puss was the immediate response. “Stan! That’s terrible.”

“Terrible, but accurate,” came Stan’s muffled answer. He excavated himself from the flying upholstery. “Anyway, that’s Porn Movie 101. If she has to date Neanderthals, why do they have to be so unimaginative?”

“Oh, who knows? Anyway, she hit him.”

“I’m not surprised. Maybe it was a term of endearment for him.”

“Stan, ‘fuckdoll’ is not a term of endearment.”

Stan shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe you just have to say it right.”

“Say it right?” Clarissa stopped, clearly trying to imagine such an alternative universe.

“Well, like this...” Stan thought for a moment. “Come over here, my sassy little fuckdoll,” he purred, in his best bedroom voice. He braced himself for another pillow, closing his eyes tight. A long pause followed, but no pillow. After a long moment, he opened his eyes again.

Clarissa was sitting, staring blankly off into the distance. Her green eyes were even wider, and her face was vacant. Her long black hair hung down, softly framing her pale face. Her posture had become ramrod straight, and her mouth was slightly open. Stan looked, and waited. Nothing happened. Clarissa’s chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths, but no reaction.

“Uh, Clair?” Stan ventured.

“Yes, Master,” she replied, her voice monotonous and free of inflection.

Stan bolted, nearly upright. “Uh, Clair, are you OK?”

“I am fine, Master,” she replied, her eyes continuing to fix on something far, far away.

Another long moment passed as Stan’s head spun. He leaned over, touched her lightly on the arm. No response. He waved a hand in front of her eyes. No blink. He sat back. This can’t be a joke, he thought.

“Clair, is this some kind of joke?”

“No, Master,” she said, utterly grave and serious.

“Um, then, what’s with the ‘Master’?” What the fuck is going on, he nearly yelled, but something in the back of his head told him to stay cool.

“I am your slave, Master,” she replied, without a trace of emotion.

Stan stopped, and thought for a long minute.

“Why are you my slave now, Clarissa?” he said, finally.

“You said my trigger phrase, Master.”

“Uh... what phrase is that?”

“You called me your ‘sassy little fuckdoll.’”

Stan blinked. OK, this can’t be a joke, he thought. There is no possible way that she could have kept from laughing this long. And this is just too weird. Too fucking weird.

“Um, why do you become my slave when I call you that?”

“Because you programmed me to become your slave when you say my trigger phrase to me, Master.”

“I did?”

“Yes, Master.”

Clearly, you have me confused with Mandrake the Magician, Stan thought. Fuck, maybe someone did this to her a long time ago?

“And, uh, how do I make you stop being my slave?”

“You tell me to wake up, Master.”

Stan stared, and said, his voice shaking, slightly, “Uh, wake up, Clarissa.”

He watched as she blinked, and looked over at him with a grin. “There is no way to say... that word... as an endearment! Not even from you.” She stretched, and stood up. “Want anything from the kitchen while I’m up? Uh, Stan?”

Stan blinked; he hadn’t realized he was staring. “Uh, no, thanks. I think I’m going to crash.”

“You OK?” She looked worried. Stan was a bundle of energy until midnight, at least; it was barely ten o’clock.

“I’m... uh, fine. Just tired,” he said, his mind a whir. She blew him a kiss and walked out of the room.

Too fucking weird, he thought, watching her go. Fucking weird.

“I’m so confused,” she said.

“You don’t have to think,” he said.

“I don’t have to think,” she said.

“You can’t think at all,” he said.

“I can’t think at all,” she said.

“You just want to listen,” he said.

“Just listen?” she asked.

“Just listen and nothing else,” he said.

“Listen and nothing else,” she replied.

Fucking weird, he typed into the document. He backspaced over it. He typed it again.

“Now what?” he said out loud, to no one in particular. What do you do about something like this? Call a psychiatrist? “Hello, Doctor? Yes, my girlfriend seems to be a hypnotic slave. Well, no, I don’t think she’s a slave right now. Probably an old college boyfriend. Anyway, could you straighten her out? No, no, that’s not what I meant, she doesn’t like girls...”

Oh, fuck, maybe it was a woman, he thought. His heart pounding, as it had all morning. Well, probably not, if she called him “Master.”

He turned around in his chair, stared out the window over the parking lot. He sighed. Somehow, I bet this is not the typical relationship problem that a marriage counselor has to deal with.

He turned back to the keyboard, and started typing again, trying not to think about Clarissa and her blank, staring, expressionless eyes. He didn’t get anything done for the rest of the day, either.

“I cannot think. I will listen,” she said.

“You will listen,” he said.

“I will listen,” she said.

“You will listen and obey,” he said.

“I will listen and ... and ... no... no ... please stop...,” she said.

“You will listen and obey,” he said.

“Listen and obey?” she asked.

“Listen. Obey,” he said.

“Obey,” she replied.

“Uh, Clair?”

She looked up from her book. As he frequently was, he was struck by just how beautiful she was. “Mmmm?”

“Did you date anyone, uh, strange in college?”

“No, love, I saved that for you,” she said with a giggle.

“C’mon, Clair, I’m serious!” he said, with more of an edge than he intended.

She blinked. “Uh, no. I hardly dated at all in college; I was the Nerd Grrrl from Planet X. Why do you ask?” She looked concerned.

He shook his head. “Oh, I dunno.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “You didn’t run into an ex-boyfriend or something, did you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. Just, you know, curious. I dated some real prizes, and I was... uh, just curious.” Well, there you are, he told himself. You are certainly the great detective.

Clarissa closed the book, and folded her arms over her chest. “OK, Stan, what’s up?”

“Really, nothing! I was just thinking.”

She laughed. “Be careful with that, you could hurt yourself.” She leaned over, gave him a kiss on the cheek, curled up against him. “Listen, Mr. Thoughtful, I’m with you now. My most serious date in college involved going out for pizza twice. I know, I’m such a tramp.”

He put an arm around her, staring off. He absently kissed the top of her head. “But you’re my tramp, now.”

She giggled again, and stroked his chest. “All yours!”

They went to bed early, but he didn’t sleep for most of the night, lying next to her, staring up at the ceiling. Whatever happened then, he thought, happened, but we’re together now, and we’re very happy together. Just forget about it, and get on with your life. Get on with it.

“I... I will...,” she said.

“You will obey me,” he said.

“I will... oh, god... stop... I will obey you,” she said.

“I am your Master,” he said.

“Stop it! You’re doing... Master... stop... Master...,” she said.

“I am your Master,” he said.

“You are my Master?” she asked.

“I am your Master,” he said.

“Master,” she replied.

This time, he was staring directly at her face as he said it. He watched her face drain of all expression, her eyes grow huge and blank, her back straighten. Her hands dropped into her lap. He looked at her like that for a long time.

“Uh, Clarissa?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Are you, uh, my slave now?”

“Yes, Master, I am your slave.”

His heart felt like it would explode out of his chest. He shifted in his chair, watching her sit primly on the couch.

“So, ah, if you are my slave, you’ll do what I tell you to, ah, do?”

“Yes, Master. I will obey any command you give me.”

Stan sat back as if struck. As much as he didn’t want to, he felt himself getting hard. Any command.

“Stand up, Clarissa.”

“Yes, Master.” Gracefully, she rose and stood, staring blankly into space.

“Uh, Clarissa, take off your blouse.”

“Yes, Master,” she replied, her hands reaching up and undoing the buttons carefully. When it was completely undone, she untucked it from the skirt, and dropped it next to her on the floor. He took in at her pale skin, her small breasts in the white bra, her blank, staring eyes.

He took a deep breath, and a swallow. His mouth was as dry as a desert. What am I going to do now? he thought. The answer came quickly: Whatever you want. Whoever did this to her didn’t want someone to do the dishes. Do whatever you want.

He shook his head, tearing his eyes away from her. No, this is stupid, he thought. This is like having a blowup doll. I can’t do this.

Sure, you can, came the answer. It’s perfect. You can do whatever you want with her, as much as you want, and you don’t have to cheat on her... after all, it’s her, isn’t it?

“It’s not her,” he said out loud. It’s some kind of Clarissa-robot. This isn’t right, it doesn’t have anything to do with what she wants.

No, he thought firmly. “Clarissa, put your blouse back on, and sit down.” She complied, smoothly and efficiently.

He looked at her for a long time before telling her to wake up.

“Please... don’t do this to me...,” she said.

“I am your Master,” he said.

“You’re doing something... you’re changing me...,” she said.

“I am your Master. You cannot resist,” he said.

“I don’t want to... stop it... stop... Master... stop...,” she said.

“I am your Master. Stop resisting. You will submit,” he said.

“I will... submit... what are you doing?” she asked.

“You will submit to me,” he said.

“I... will... submit...,” she replied.

He squirmed in his chair. He stared out the window. He turned around, stared to type, stopped typing, started again. He adjusted his pants, trying to hide his erection. He turned, and squirmed again.

No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

This is insane, he thought. Whatever happened to her happened a long time ago, from someone with the ethical sensibilities of a bacteria. Using this thing, this problem of hers would be worse than rape. Just because it means I could fuck her as much as I wanted, any time I wanted. Hell, I could probably get her to give me a blowjob. Maybe even do her up the ass; it’s been years since a woman has let me fuck her ass...

Stop that! he nearly shouted out loud. The answer is no. No. He turned and looked at the phone, reached for it, pulled back. He looked at the phone for a long time. He picked it up, pressed an autodial button. He swallowed.

“Hi Clair. No, no, I’m fine. No, fine, really.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, would you mind staying in tonight?” He stared out the window. “I’ll cook.”

“I will submit to you,” she said.

“I am your Master,” he said.

“You are my Master,” she said.

“You are my slave,” he said.

“I am your slave,” she said.

“You have no will,” he said.

“I have... no... uh... I have no... uh... ppplease... what is going on?” she asked.

“You have no will,” he said.

“I have no will,” she replied.

Clair sat on the bed, naked, leaning against the pillows stacked up on the headboard. Her legs were spread, wide, showing off her pink lips and lush black pubic hair. She stared out into the distance. Stan sat at the foot of the bed, looking at her.

“I want you to touch yourself.”

“Yes, Master. I will touch myself.” Her right hand descended, her fingertips found her clit, started making circles.

“Keep playing with yourself until you come.”

“Yes, Master. I will play with myself until I come” Her fingers continued their movements. Stan reached down, stroked his cock, watching her masturbate. Her nipples grew harder, her pussy got wet. After a few minutes, a small shudder ran through her body, and her fingers stopped. Her expression never varied.

“Did you come?”

“Yes, Master. I came.”

Stan blinked. When Clarissa came, the bed usually threatened to pound down the wall.

He looked at her for a long moment. His cock was harder than he had ever felt it before. “Lie down, Clarissa. I want to fuck you.”

She slid down, staring at the ceiling blankly. “Yes, Master. I am ready to be fucked by you.”

He swallowed, and mounted her. He had never felt her this wet. He came within minutes; several minutes later, he came again. It was the first of many orgasms for him that night.

“I am docile and obedient,” she said.

“You are my docile and obedient slave,” he said.

“I am your docile and obedient slave,” she said.

“Your mind is gone. You are my sex toy,” he said.

“My mind is gone. I am your sex toy,” she said.

“You will allow me to use your body,” he said.

“I will... I will... I... I... I can’t... what are you doing to me?” she asked.

“Your body is mine,” he said.

“My body is yours, Master,” she replied.

He stared at the doorknob. His thoughts were the same as they had been every time he had come home for the previous week. That was great, it was fun, you had to do it once, but just once. That was that. He turned the knob, and walked in. He heard the sound of the shower running as he hung up his coat and put his briefcase down. He sat down on the couch, staring at the bedroom door. Just once.

Clarissa emerged, her hair in a towel, a robe wrapped around her. Her eyes sparkled. “Well, hello! I didn’t expect you come so early.”

Stan looked up.

Clarissa stopped, returned his stare. “Uh, what’s up? What’s the matter?”

Stan took a deep breath. “Nothing, my sassy little fuckdoll.”

A few minutes later, the robe was in a pile at the bedroom door. Clarissa was on her knees, staring at his cock. He said what he had been thinking all week.

“Yes, Master. I will suck your cock,” she replied, her lips opening as she leaned down, sliding him into her mouth. Her mouth pumped up and down, up and down. She had never given him oral sex before, but her head bobbed mechanically, her mouth sucking, her tongue sliding along the base expertly. It didn’t take him long to come in her mouth, and she swallowed every drop.

He was in a much better mood the rest of the evening. They had a wonderful time at dinner.

“I will spread my legs open for you, Master,” she said.

“You will spread your legs for me and let me fuck you,” he said.

“I will spread my legs and let you fuck me, Master,” she said.

“Your cunt is mine,” he said.

“My cunt is yours,” she said.

“I can use your cunt anytime I want,” he said.

“You can use my cunt anytime you want,” she said.

“Open your legs now,” he said.

“I am opening my legs for you, Master,” she replied.

A week later, as they cuddled in bed, Clarissa slid one hand over his chest. “Hi, lover.”

He forced a smile. “Hi, love.”

She cuddled up to him, threw a leg over his crotch. “Are you tired, or are you tired tired?”

He gave her a quick kiss, and smiled again. “Uh, why?”

Her hand descended a bit lower. “Why do you think, cutie?”

He looked at her as she fingered his soft cock. She looked a bit concerned, but kept it out of her voice. “You know, is there something you’d like?” She leaned over, and kissed him. There was something he’d like, of course. He told her.

“Yes, Master,” she replied a bit later, lifting her ass up to him, “I am ready to be fucked from behind by you.”

He stared down at her cunt. It was dripping, her juices running down her thighs. He had discovered that he didn’t even have to tell her to play with herself; just ordering her to get wet resulted in a flood out of her pussy. He guided his cock into her cunt; she pushed back, her muscles contracting, squeezing him tightly. They fucked, silently, until he had come once, then again.

Later, she asked, “So, um... want to?” She fingered his soft cock.

He smiled, much less strained this time. “Not tonight, love. I’m exhausted.”

She gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t argue. They fell asleep, her cuddled in his arms.

“You may fuck my tits anytime you want,” she said.

“Your tits are mine to fuck,” he said.

“My tits are yours to fuck,” she said.

“You will let me fuck your tits,” he said.

“I will let you fuck my tits,” she said.

“You cannot resist me. You are my obedient slave. Your tits are mine,” he said.

“I cannot resist you. I am your obedient slave. My tits are yours,” she said.

“Take off your bra, and play with your tits for me,” he said.

“I will take off my bra and play with my tits for you, Master,” she replied.

Within the month, they had settled into a comfortable routine. Each night, as they went to bed, Stan triggered Clarissa. Sometimes, he had her give him a blowjob, sometimes he just fucked her, usually both. Often, both, a few times each. Her capacity for sex while triggered was infinite, her lubrication copious, her stamina inexhaustible. She could blow him for hours, non-stop, without even the slightest break in rhythm. Her expression never varied much, even during orgasm, and her blank stare was constant. She was the perfect sex-robot; she clearly had not a thought in her head except his last command.

He just told her to go to sleep when he had finally worn himself out. She fell asleep instantly and totally as soon as he issued the command, as if she had been switched off. When he woke her up in the morning, she came awake fully and completely, still triggered and obedient. He usually enjoyed her for another half-hour before untriggering her.

Stan had concluded that there was no way to influence her waking behavior; whatever was told to her while she was triggered vanished completely when she woke up. No post-hypnotic suggestions, if this really was hypnosis, seemed to have the slightest effect. Fortunately, she never seemed to notice the missing time from being in her trance; her mind just created something to fill the hole in her day. Even the occasional wet spot on the bed seemed utterly unremarkable to her, even though they hadn’t had sex “awake” since he had discovered her trigger.

She had obviously been well-trained. Her fellatio was able to bring him off in record time; her vaginal muscles were in perfect tone, and clenched him as tight as a fist. He discovered to his amazement that she was easily able (and, of course, utterly willing) to be taken in the ass; she even guided him in the first time, mounted on top of him, blank eyes staring at the wall.

“I will suck your cock anytime you want,” she said.

“You wil give me a blowjob anytime I want,” he said.

“I will give you a blowjob anytime you want,” she said.

“Your hot, wet mouth is mine to fuck,” he said.

“My hot, wet mouth is yours to fuck,” she said.

“You are my docile sextoy. You will suck me anytime I want,” he said.

“I am your docile sextoy. I will suck you anytime you want,” she said.

“You will eagerly kneel down and let me fill your mouth with come,” he said.

“Yes, Master. I will eagerly kneel down and swallow your come,” she replied.

A few months later, Stan and Clarissa had their first fight. As Stan sat at work the next day, reflecting on the evening, he couldn’t say he was surprised. She was feeling frustrated, neglected, used... and horny. He never made passes at her, never flirted with her, never made love to her anymore. And, of course, she was right, or at least she never remembered the times they made love (which, in truth, were down to once a week even with the trigger). He had never realized that having sex with him meant that much to her, but it did. And he hadn’t quite realized how much it meant to him.

For the first time in months, they made love that night. Stan had forgotten just how much fun Clarissa could be in bed; she thrashed, she moaned, she clawed at him (he thought with a smile, as he rested his back lightly against the chair). They were up until all hours, and collapsed into a heap together, too exhausted to even pull up the covers. They made love again when they woke up. They were both late to work.

“My ass is yours to fuck,” she said.

“You will gladly let me fuck you up the ass,” he said.

“Yes, Master, I will gladly let you fuck me up the ass,” she said.

“You love taking my big cock up your tight asshole,” he said.

“Yes, Master, I love to take your big cock up my tight asshole,” she said.

“You are my little anal fuckdoll,” he said.

“I am your little anal fuckdoll,” she said.

“Bend over, and offer your ass to me,” he said.

“Yes, Master. I am ready to be fucked up the ass by you,” she replied.

Stan came home early that night. As he opened the door, he heard voices coming from the kitchen. Clarissa’s and...

“Hi, Stan,” she called down the hall. “Come meet Kendra!”

Kendra was sitting in across from Clarissa at the breakfast table. Kendra introduced herself, standing up rather awkwardly, giving Stan, down her blouse, a clear view of her enormous breasts. Kendra had long, blonde hair, huge blue eyes, a lilting, sexy voice. She had full lips, to which she had applied bright red lipstick. She had a very narrow waist and a tight, jeans-clad ass. She was tall, and had long legs. She talked about sex alot, sex with her now-ex boyfriend. She talked dirty, and said “fuck,” “tits,” “cock,” “cunt,” and “blowjob.” She said them frequently, and with relish. When her bright-red lips said “blowjob,” it was easy to imagine a large cock sliding effortlessly between them. Stan listened to Clarissa and Kendra talk, and tried not to stare at Kendra’s tits. He did anyway; Kendra saw, and didn’t seem to mind. She turned towards him, a bit.

He was horny to the point of being dizzy by the time Kendra was ready to leave. He walked behind Clarissa as she walked Kendra to the door. He stared at Kendra’s ass the whole way. He stammered a goodbye. Clarissa closed the door and turned to him. “Good god, what bad taste in men she...”

“Sassy little fuckdoll.”

Clarissa’s eyes grew blank.

“Drop your pants.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, unzipping, stepping out of them, sliding off her panties.

“Turn around and spread. Get wet.”

“Yes, Master. I am wet for you,” she said, bending over, spreading her legs. Her pussy was getting fuller, pinker, dripping. Utterly ready for him. He unzipped, and slid into Clarissa’s cunt, grabbing her hips, fucking her hard. He closed his eyes, and it was Kendra’s hips he was holding, her cunt he was pounding into, her mouth open and ready to receive him, her tight asshole he was pushing open with his dick, her huge tits that he was coming on again and again and again as she moaned and cried out and came and rubbed his come into her soft breasts...

He left Clarissa triggered all night. He didn’t get any sleep.

“I am your slave,” she said.

“I am your Master,” he said.

“You are my Master,” she said.

“You have no will,” he said.

“I have no will,” she said.

“You are my wet, obedient sex slave,” he said.

“I am your wet, obedient sex slave,” she said.

“You will obey me,” he said.

“I will obey you, Master,” she replied.

He stared at Clarissa, and sighed. It was 7:30am, time to wake her up. He had triggered her every night for the last week. He started untrigger her, and then stopped. He thought for a moment.


“Yes, Master.” She was lying on her back, legs spread, pussy wet. She slept like that when triggered.

“Who did this to you?”

“You did, Master.”

He sighed. “But what did I do?”

“You enslaved me, Master.”

He thought. His mouth was very dry.

“Do you know how?”

“Yes, Master.”

His heart was pounding. “Can you tell me how I did it?”

“Yes, Master.”

He called in sick. He called in sick for Clarissa. He nearly dropped the phone, his hands were shaking so hard. He returned to the bed, with a notepad. Clarissa hadn’t moved. “Tell me what I did, slave,” he said, ready to write.

“I will remember nothing,” she said.

“You will become my slave when I call you my sassy little fuckdoll,” he said.

“I will become your slave when you call me your sassy little fuckdoll,” she said.

“You will awaken when I tell you to, with no memory or concerns,” he said.

“I will awaken when you tell me to, with no memory or concerns,” she said.

“You are mindless,” he said.

“I am mindless,” she said.

“You exist to pleasure me,” he said.

“I exist to pleasure you, Master,” she replied.

He jumped up at the knock on the door. He opened it. Kendra was there. She was wearing a dress this time. It matched her eyes. She was showing a lot of cleavage. “Hi, Stan! Thank god it’s Friday... Clair here?” Kendra walked in. Stan stared down her dress, then at her ass. She turned, saw him looking at her tits. She smiled.

“Uh, she’s... out. For a little while. Back soon.” Pause. Kendra turned, smiled. “Um, have a seat?” Stan said. Kendra smiled again, a full-lipped smile, and settled down in the offered chair.

Stan said, “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” Kendra smiled, and bent over to get a magazine. She showed a lot of tit doing so. Stan opened the bedroom door, walked through, closed it behind him.

Clarissa lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Stan looked at her for a long moment, took a deep breath, and turned around again. He walked back into the living room; Kendra looked up, smiled again. He smiled back, and settled down in the chair across from her.

“So, while we’re, ah, waiting for Clair, there’s something I wanted to talk with you about,” he said.

“Oh?” she replied, leaning forward again. “What’s that?” Her blonde hair tumbled around her face. Her breasts were very full, her eyes huge and blue.

Stan looked down at Kendra as he knelt between her wide-spread legs, and smiled. She lay on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling, her hands stroking her tits. They looked even bigger, now that she was naked. Her blonde hair, matted from sweat, was spread out over the floor. She was slowly kneeding her boobs, slick from Stan’s come. Her engorged pussy showed the effects of their extended fucking; her lipstick was entirely rubbed off, mostly on his cock.

He had hoped to play with both her and Clarissa, but the many, many bouts that had been required to break Kendra’s will had left him quite spent. But there was plenty of time, he thought. For Kendra, and for himself for that matter, there was no going back.


“Yes, Master?” she asked, her voice stripped of intonation.

“Go shower and clean up, then come back to me.”

“Yes, Master. I obey,” she said, rising gracefully. He watched her go, her tight ass swaying as she walked into the bedroom. Clarissa didn’t move as Kendra walked past her on the way to the bathroom. He sat back, and looked at the ceiling, thinking about Clarissa. And Kendra. And Joanne, that cute little brunette who just started in accounting.

He shook his head, grinning ruefully. Two was plenty for him. No reason to give into temptation.

He heard the shower turn on.