The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Adjusters IV: Running to Stand Still

Awhirl (2)

I come to with a groan. The light stings my eyes when I open them. The light, and the sticky coating that can only be semen covering them and the rest of my face. Jennie’s satiated and I’m back in control, but she stirs inside at the thought of having been facialed, of her face dripping with cum.

I’m not sure what happened to me. The last thing I remember was being taken by Wiry and Beer Gut, and then Jennie went crazy, and I must have blanked out inside, somehow, as Jennie took over completely. That such a thing can happen is frightening.

I try to move, and everything hurts. My pussy hurts, my ass hurts, my legs hurt, my breasts hurt. And my throat is killing me. I can just imagine what I’ve gone through while I was gone. I have no idea what time it is, no idea how long those two guys ravaged me.

I try to move, despite the pain, and that’s when I realize that my left hand is shackled to the wooden headboard.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

As I pull on the shackles, going out of my mind at the realization that it’s going to ruin everything, I hear someone clapping from the door.

My head jerks in that direction—the movement making me wince so sore is my neck—and there’s Cassandra, leaning against the door frame, clapping slowly. She’s dressed in a tight leather corset that pushes out her breasts, with what I can only call hooker boots on, the kind that goes up to your thighs with a nasty metal stiletto heel to them. I can feel my mouth start to water as Jennie imagines wrapping my lips around her dark nipples, and my pussy gushes. I can tune her out, but Jennie’s still there distracting me, begging me to let go and savor the long-legged brunette that’s currently watching me with a smirk on her face.

“Nicely done,” Cassandra purrs, her hands together. She stays by the door, watching me. “Quite the performance. Especially that bit there at the end? When the large one just shoved himself hard in your cunt while the thin one plowed your ass? You came so hard, babe, your shrieks sent chills down my spine.”

She takes a step toward me. I pull on the shackle again, ineffectually.

“What’s especially impressive is that I know for a fact that you’re not really hyped on anything right now. You’ve got happy juice in you right now, isn’t that right? That Young Thing Sanderson sneaked you some before they brought you here, so that you’d be aware? Calm down those urges of yours? No need to tell me—I can see it in your eyes. It’s you in there, ain’t it? Not that out-of-her-mind slut that half the guys here come to see and fuck.”

She’s at the foot of the bed now, and I see that she’s got something in her hands that she keeps half hidden behind her back. There are dangling straps. Jennie shifts at the sight, and my pussy gushes—she knows what it is.

“Must have been tough to put on the slut act—I’ve seen you when you go crazy, Sweet Cheeks, and it’s quite a sight. Gets me soaking wet every time. You’re just so… insatiable. Always ready to go, ready to be used and abused. The little Energizer Bunny fuck machine.”

Between Jennie stirring inside of me, the mute pain throughout my body, and Cassandra before me seeming to know more than she ought to, fear finally descend upon me, and I fight it back and I pull on my hand again and the shackles clangs against the wooden headboard and I pull on them again and fear gives way to terror.

Cassandra watches my struggles with a little smile. “Oh yes, sorry about that. I asked the guys to tie you up when they were done. You know, considering that you were planning on skipping out on us? Can’t have that, Sweet Cheeks. I got plans for you. And that you’re actually you tonight is just going to make it that much sweeter.”

She finally shows me what she’s been keeping behind her. It’s a strap-on dildo, a huge dark rubber cock with the largest bulbous head I’ve ever seen. Jennie squirms at the thought of that… thing ripping inside of me, stretching me out, and I have to fight back a moan. I thought she was satiated, but I was wrong. The small dosage of meds that Sanderson gave me before I came here is the only thing that keeps me from sinking into depravity again, but I can feel it right there below the surface, bubbling, wanting—needing!—to burst out and wallow in abuse.

“This is Kong,” Cassandra says calmly, as she slips the strap-on in place and tightens it about her waist. “Kong’s gonna teach you a thing or two about fucking. After he’s done, I don’t think the guys are gonna enjoy your holes quite as much. They’ll barely feel a thing.”

Her smile turns into a sneer as she says that, and there are a lot of things in her eyes that I cannot help but see. Rage and something like envy—though why she might be angry at me, or envious for that matter, is completely beyond me—but also something else, a desire, a hunger for something. Jennie stirs inside, fascinated by the huge black cock that’s about to overpower her, craving the pain that is sure to follow.

“Please…” I manage to croak out—my throat is killing me. What did those guys do to me?

Cassandra gets on the bed, on her knees, one hand on the dildo, stroking it as if it were a real cock. “No need to beg. You’ll get it soon enough. Fact is, because you’ve already been warmed up, I’m not even gonna lube Kong. It’s gonna be a lot more fun.”

There’s a challenge in her eyes, underneath the anger, underneath the hate, a challenge that fuels her lust. Jennie’s reacting to that almost more than she’s reacting to the big cock dangling before her. She knows what’s going on. She’s amazing that way, being able to zero in on exactly what gets someone off. How Biff hammered that into her—into me—I have no clue. Maybe I always had that? Maybe everyone has it?

I feel this surge of energy from Jennie inside—she’s rearing to go, and it feels utterly and completely different from before with Wiry and Beer Gut. There is strength and power there, and strength and power is what I need right now.

And then, just like that, I know. I know I need to unleash Jennie again. Like I did before. Then, it was to shield myself. Now, it is to save myself. I just know.

I can tell what Cassandra is thinking as puts her hands on my legs to spread them out. She’s going to fuck me with that thing, rip me open, spear me to death, and she’s going to enjoy every single fucking minute of it.

I let Jennie break through the surface of my control, and try to hang on to her as she roars past.

Cassandra’s looking straight at me, in my eyes, and she must see something, because her face flushes in an instant, and her hands clench on my thighs. Her eyes are dark, rimmed with the black eyeliner she favors, her makeup heavy. The challenge in her eyes is still there, going from a simmer to a boil to match the flush of her face.

I strike without warning and twist myself up to wrap my legs around her chest. She’s not expecting it, so it takes a few seconds before she struggles. I’m strong—more accurately, Jennie is strong—and I squeeze my legs as hard as I can, tilting Cassandra to bring her down. I squeeze harder still, and the effort sends spikes of pleasure through my pussy, and I can feel myself leak all over the sheets.

“You bitch!” Cassandra tries to scream, but she’s running out of air. She tries to free herself, tries to reach for my face, for something to grab, but I hold on, my legs shaking from the effort, muscles trained by half a life of dancing and yoga responding as requested despite my long inactivity.

With a roar that surprises even me—Jennie is fully in control right now, and what she wants seems to be eminently aggressive—I grab the wooden pole to which I’m shackled and pull, and with a loud croak it breaks off, and I’m left with a jagged stick of wood in my hand, and for a second I worry that Jennie is going to make me stab Cassandra with it, and Cassandra clearly fears the same because her eyes go wide and she stiffens and stops struggling.

But no. Jennie has something else in mind. I toss the stick away, and grab a handful of Cassandra long black hair and pull, making her shriek in pain as I twist her head off to the side. I force her to look up at me.

“This is what you want, isn’t it, you little cunt?” I practically spit in her face. The challenge is still there in her eyes as she struggles to free herself from my legs, but I pull her hair harder, and I can smell it—Cassandra’s arousal, her lust, her desire—I can see her nipples like hard diamonds ready to cut through anything. With my free hand, I grab one of those nipples and twist and squeeze and Cassandra lets out a shout of pain and her smells gets stronger and Jennie laughs inside as she feels Cassandra juices leak onto my thigh.

I let go of her hair and shove my hand between us and without hesitation, I slip it through the harness, through her panties, and find her pussy, wet and welcoming. I press three fingers inside of her and they sink like a hot knife through butter, her pussy clenching around them.

Cassandra lets out a groan and shakes her head no and tries to move away but I grasp her nipple harder and squeeze it and her pussy spasms around my fingers as I pump them in and out.

“Look at you,” I sneer. “You love it!”

I pull my hand out and push those same three fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste herself, and looking straight at me as I twist her nipple, she sucks on them, the lust in her eyes flaring bright. She’s trying to rub herself against me, the large strap-on dildo preventing her from doing so effectively.

“So what was it you wanted to do to Jennie? Fuck her with that black cock you got on now? Stretch her out? Hurt her? Make her your little bitch?” I press my fingers deeper into her mouth, and Cassandra gags loudly, the sound making Jennie squeal in delight.

Cassandra is no longer struggling. She has gone limp in my arms, but I keep my legs around her as I finger-fuck her throat. Her eyes are still locked onto mine, unblinking, wide, yearning.

I grab her hair again and pull her head back away from me, and I finally release her from my leg-hold long enough for me to dive in and take one of her nipples into my mouth, kneading her other breast with my free hand, roughly. Cassandra squeals as I suck hard, and lets out a scream of pain when I bite down. The taste of blood hits my tongue.

I release her, and slap her breasts, hard. And again. And again. Jennie loves the way they bounce about. “Jennie’s gonna make you her bitch. What do you say to that?”

Cassandra is just looking at me with a stunned expression on her face. Her eyes still hold their challenge, but it’s almost overwhelmed by need, a need I know full well, a need that Jennie inside drinks in like the finest nectar.

I slap her face—once, twice—then squeeze one of her breasts hard enough to make her winces. “Jennie asked—what do you say to that?”

“P… please!”

“Please what, you wet cunt?” I slap her breast once more, then reach down to unfasten the harness of her strap-on. My grip on her hair tightens. “Please fuck your holes until they can’t close anymore? Please shove Kong so far up your twat it slams against your teeth? Please destroy your tight ass? Please what, you worthless fuck hole?”

“P… please fuck me!”

I snatch off the dildo, and lift it up to her face—it’s one huge shaft, there’s no doubt about it. “Is this what you want, you sloppy cunt? Do you want to feel Kong tear you open?”

The lust in her eyes is irresistible, and she nods, her mouth open, staring at the huge shaft. She’s trembling, almost shivering, and without thinking about it—Jennie’s driving—I lean over and kiss Cassandra, a deep and aggressive kiss that feels more like claiming a prize than anything else. My tongue drives deep into her mouth and wrestles with hers. My teeth cut into her lips.

I don’t pull out of the kiss so much as pull her head back by the hair, forcing her to bend backward and thrust her chest out, and I follow her down and slide Kong between her lips and push it into her mouth.

Cassandra stiffens and whatever protest she may have had is smothered by the huge rubber cock pressing against her throat. I don’t stop when I encounter resistance. I don’t stop when her gagging starts. Jennie knows what she’s doing—knows what Cassandra really wants.

I piston the rubber cock in and out of Cassandra’s mouth, amazed at how wide she can open up to let the oversized shaft dig into her, wondering if it’s possible to break someone’s jaw that way. She looks like a snake swallowing a too large prey—albeit a hot and sexy snake with swaying tits and a cunt that smells of want.

Cassandra’s on her back, the dildo pushing deeper, and she makes those wet chocking sounds that have Jennie laughing in delight inside. For a second, I worry that I’m going to kill her, but amazingly—not amazing, obvious, I can hear Jennie retort with a lusty grin—Cassandra starts shivering in obvious pleasure, and spreads her legs wide and cups her own breasts and plays with them roughly, her moans of arousal broken up by the hacking of the dildo in her mouth.

I rip off her panties—a flimsy black affair—finding them a sodden mess. If I had any doubts she’s enjoying this, they’d be dispelled on the spot. And seeing her so turned on turns me on as well, and I go with it.

I free her mouth, and look at the dildo, shiny with her saliva. “Nice job, fuck mouth,” I tell the whimpering girl. “Good and lubed. Ready to be stretched out?”

Before she can answer, I slide the dildo between her pussy lips and push. Despite the thick coating of drool on the shaft, despite the abundant juices leaking out of her hole, there’s resistance right away. Jennie laughs out loud, and I think it actually comes out of me, because despite the tremors that are shaking her, Cassandra looks at me with widening eyes.

And then she screams as I force the shaft inside her as hard as I can, and it goes in almost reluctantly, and the only reason that those screams are not bringing down half the people on the floor to see who the hell is getting ripped open is because in a flash I’m on top of her kissing her screams away, soaking them up for Jennie’s own personal perverted pleasure.

In and out goes the dildo, forcing screams and shivers from the now helpless goth girl beneath me with her leather corset and her hooker boots and a submissive streak a mile wide. She writhes against me, and the feel of her tits rubbing against mine makes me want to claw at them, make her scream longer and harder.

And then, in a gorgeous spasm of release, her mouth opens wide and her screams turn into one long choked sob, and she comes. Her cunt opens up wide, and the dildo sinks an impossible inch deeper.

Cassandra’s eyes are wide open, she’s stiff as a board with her legs spread, her ass off the bed twisted upward, and she trembles uncontrollably, sobbing and gasping in the throes of the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever witnessed.

I ride the wave, and still thrusting the dildo in and out of her now spasmodic cunt, lean down and suck hard enough on one of her round tits to leave a hickey the size of a silver dollar.

Jennie is jubilant. And I think I blank out again.

* * *

When the world comes back into focus and I finally manage to regain some form of control over Jennie, I’m breathing hard, sweat is dripping down my face, and my heart is racing.

Cassandra is whimpering on the bed, the large dildo sticking out of her pussy, her legs twitching, groaning softly. Jennie is satiated once more, and I can push her down below the surface as before.

I look around for some clothes—sadly, the pajama bottoms and the camisole are all I have to go with, although I also grab Cassandra’s boots. Even stiletto heels are better than naked feet if I’m to be walking outside. Plus they should fit under my pajama bottoms despite their bulk. I don’t slip them on just yet though—they would clack on the floor.

I hesitate for a second to consider the shackles still dangling from my wrist. Not an actual problem right now, but once I’m outside, they’ll stick out like sort thumbs, and are bound to raise questions.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take me too long to find the key, attached to a small chain on Cassandra’s corset. And I ponder: corset or camisole? Neither is a particular good choice.

Enough dallying, Jenn! Get a move on!

I open the door, then run down the hallway after checking that the coast is clear. Sanderson sketched out the layout of the floor for me from memory. He told me to wait for him by what had to be a utility closet at one end of the long hallway.

As I make my way toward it, I pass many rooms, some of them with their door open. Each appears to be a typical hospital room, sort of like the one in which I woke up but undecorated. Other doors are closed, out of which I can hear moans and other shouts of pleasure and pain, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on in there.

I only cross paths with two other people, forcing me to hide into a room. It’s one of the patients on my ward, Jenaveve, hanging off the arm of a swarthy latino man. She’s a sweet girl. She’s looking down at the man with, over whom she towers in her platform shoes—with what can only be described as adoration, hanging on to his every word, the perfect toy. The main thing about Jenaveve is that she has a lot of difficulty saying no, no matter what the request is, no matter what is asked of her. As near as I can tell, that’s her Syndrome talking. And I shudder to imagine what the man will have her do, especially since Mouse told me that all of the girls that are down here have had their last doses of meds withheld. They are all fully in the throes of their Syndrome.

When I make it to the utility closet, it’s larger than I thought it’d be, with plenty of room for me to hide behind one of the shelves. Cleaning supplies, it looks like. Some of which may actually come in handy if someone shows up. I grab a broom and pull out the wooden shaft. It’s not great, but it’ll do.

I settle down, and wait. And it is the hardest thing to do for me right now. I want to move, run, do anything but remain in place. I feel exposed, vulnerable, trapped. I take a deep breath, and move through a few breathing forms to center myself.

After I don’t know how long—I have nothing to tell me the time and it’s dark and quiet—I hear a voice from behind the closet door, and I hold my breath. Sanderson would not be talking out loud.

“I guess we should do this, then.” It’s not Sanderson. It’s the Pig—Gutierrez. And he sounds nervous, worried.

“I’m going to need to see her first, of course.”

I can’t place that last voice, although I’m pretty sure I heard it before. Jennie, dormant until now, stirs up. She recognizes him. This must be the man here to buy me. He’s probably had me before.

“Of course,” says Gutierrez. “Look, I need to know something before anything else. Why do you want her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It actually is. If I’m going to do this, I need to know.”

“You’re getting good money out of this deal.” The man sounds annoyed.

“It’s not the money. It’s that I need to watch my ass. I can’t afford to get in trouble.”

The man lets out a chuckle of amusement. “Do you consider this little setup here watching your ass? I mean, this is likely to get you in trouble, no?”

“Is that a threat? Listen, I’m protected here. I got friends. Good friends. Friends with reach. I keep things in-house, and everything’s peachy. But I can’t afford for someone outside to realize that this chick that should be here isn’t anymore because she’s shaking her ass in some strip club in Florida. You want her? Tell me why, or no deal.”

The other man pauses, as if gauging Gutierrez’s intent. “Fine. Look, don’t worry. She won’t show up in a club in Florida. Or anywhere else for that matter. She won’t be seen. Let’s just say that the people I work for have a history with your girl here. Some debts to settle, if you will. And she will repay them… how did you put it?… purely in-house.”

“What did she do to get in trouble with the Connelly brothers? Oh, don’t look so surprised. What did you think, that I wouldn’t ask around? Do you think I’m an idiot? Yeah, you work for the Connelly brothers.”

Another silence, longer this one. Meanwhile, I rack my brain to try and think why the Connelly brothers might want me. I’ve never heard of them. What’s that about a debt to settle?

“Let’s just say that when she was in the DA’s office in DC, she caused no small amount of trouble for my bosses. They were quite happy when she dropped off the face of the earth a couple of years back, you can imagine, but they never really got their payback. This deals will help with… redress.”

What?

“So they’re gonna—”

“What they do exactly is irrelevant. But I can assure you that when Lillian Shepard gets in my bosses’ hands, she won’t be seeing the light of day. As I said, she’s in for some payback.”

There is something in his voice that Jennie must recognize before it makes her stir with perverted interest, which by itself sends chills down my spine. Knowing what Mouse is like, I fear I know what the man talking to Gutierrez might mean by payback.

For of course it is Mouse they’re talking about. Lillian Shepard, ex-assistant DA in DC. Difficult to imagine the little thing of a woman almost at the head of a prosecution office, but I’m well placed to appreciate how fucked up your life can become in a split second—especially if the Syndrome is part of the narrative.

“So are you satisfied?” the man asks Gutierrez. “Shall we proceed?”

Gutierrez sighs. “Fine. But don’t make me regret this.”

“I’ve got two hundred fifty thousand reasons why you won’t.”

“When do you want to make the… exchange?”

“I’ve got a fifty thousand now, the rest upon delivery.”

“Sounds good. But there are still some details to arrange. I have to fake a worsening of her condition, and that can’t be too fast or it’ll be suspicious.”

“How much time do you need?”

“Two weeks at least. I can arrange to have her ready at the next gathering, which should be in three weeks.”

“That’s acceptable.”

“Okay. Also, all I can do is get her ready and bring her to the door. You’ll have to arrange transportation from there on.”

“Not a problem.”

At that point, I guess that the two of them walk away, because their voices fade away, and I’m left in the silence of the utility closet.

Mouse. It was her all along that Gutierrez was selling. Not me. Mouse.

I feel an odd and disturbing mixture of relief and horror. It’s not me they’re after. But now Mouse is in trouble. She’s been in trouble all along.

The news take the wind out of my sails in a flash. Somehow, all the urgency is gone, even though my situation is still as dangerous as before.

I’m in the midst of these thoughts when there’s a soft knock on the door, and all my senses wake up on the spot—even Jennie springs to life and I feel a spike of arousal that I have to snuff out.

The door opens and I grab the broom handle. I tense up, getting ready to drive it into the stomach of whomever is trying to get in if he’s not Sanderson. When I recognize his voice whispering “Jennie?” I relax.

He comes in, and closes the door behind him. He sees me, comes close. He looks relieved. I release the breath I did not even realize I was holding. I crouch on the floor, suddenly feeling woozy. My head is killing me all of a sudden.

“Jennie, are you okay?” Sanderson crouches down next me.

“Jennie’s fine, but what happened to you?” I’m staring at his right eye, which is almost swelled shut by an angry shiner.

He touches it with the tip of two fingers, and winces. “Nothing. Just… a disagreement with a colleague.” He makes a face. “Come on, we have to get you out of here. I brought you some clothes and some shoes.”

He hands me a bundle. Bless him; he thought about it. Then he sees the black leather hooker boots by my feet. “Unless you want to wear those, of course,” he says with a smile.

I punch him on the shoulder.

“Come on,” he adds, standing up. “We have to go. I know where the exit is.” He turns his back to me, giving me some space to get changed.

I look at the clothes, look at him, back at the clothes.

I shake my head. “Wait,” I say, after a long silence.

“The road’s clear now, but I don’t know how long it’ll stay that way.”

“Wait,” I repeat. “Jennie can’t go.”

He turns around, looks at me. “What?”

“Jennie can’t go.”

He crouches back next to me. “What do you mean you can’t go? What happened? What’s wrong?”

I’m torn, but I can’t do this to Mouse. She’s a friend—she helped me. And I would have to live with myself if I let her fall in the hands of those men that want her. A mental hospital is one thing, even considering Gutierrez and Cassandra and whatnot, but being given to men that seek payback, men to whom the DA office caused problems? Nothing good can come out of it.

I know I would have liked someone to help when Biff got his hands on me.

Beside, it’s what Daniel would want me to do. Always needing to do the right thing, that’s Daniel all right.

Sanderson is looking at me, so like Daniel, so unlike him. “Jennie can’t go. It’s not her they’re after. It’s not her he wants to sell. It’s Mouse.”

“Mouse?”

“Yeah. And Jennie can’t let it happen.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Jennie’ll explain later. But Jennie has to figure out a new plan. And she’s not going anywhere.”

I think he’s surprised at the resolve in my voice. Join the club, baby.

Jennie, wonderful simple fuck-my-brains out Jennie, cares not about any of this. She feels Sanderson close, and she’s getting hungry again. Later, I tell her.

We stay in the utility closet like that, crouched against the wall behind some shelving, silent, each of us in our own thoughts—Sanderson confused, me finding some inner calm.

That’s when we hear the wail in the distance. A wail that sends shivers down my spine, and not the kind that Jennie enjoys.

Sanderson pales as he looks up.

The lingering wail is coming from a distance—above, below, who knows?

“What… what’s that?” Sanderson asks.

I shake my head. I have no idea.

Sanderson’s eyes widen, and he twists to look up right above our heads. There’s a crucifix on the wall.

“The ghosts,” he says in a blank voice.

I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“It’s something that Beatrice told me on my first day. About this place being haunted.”

Ghosts. Great. What else?

The wail picks up in the distance, as if laughing at me.