Mental Cruelty:
A Mind Control Sex Fugue (Part 1)
I know you don’t really remember anything, and the nights when you wake up screaming have almost completely stopped. But I do. I remember everything. Here’s how it happened.
You were sitting alone in the campus cafeteria, drinking coffee and reading a book. You were dressed casually in a blouse and jeans. I had never seen you before, but I could tell that were you the type of person who put serious effort into getting and stayingin shape. I liked that. Along with your intelligent face, currently lost in concentration, this made you a very attractive package. I slid into the chair next to you. You looked up, startled, and dropped your book.
“Who are ...,” you started to say.
“Don’t move,” I interrupted in a loud whisper. You found to your amazement that you couldn’t. Your mouth was still hanging open with the third word you were going to say.
“Look at me,” I said. “Smile and nod as though’m a good friend that you haven’t seen i a long time and you’re fascinated by everything ‘m saying.”
A wide smile broke out across your face. Even though there was a frightened look hiding somewhere behind your eyes, you nodded and leaned towards me. I gave you some instructions.
“In a moment, I’m going to count to five. When I do, you’ll be able to move, although with certain restrictions. You won’t be able to leave; you won’t attack me; you won’t do anything to draw attention to us. In fact, you won’t be able to do anything except for te normal posturl resitionng that take place when two people are engagd in conversation. Definitely engage in those Also, pleae don’t say anying until I tell you to. When I give you permission to speak, keep your voice down, and answer all my questions honestly and completey. Now, 1 2, 3, 4, 5.”
You shuddered. You tried to scream, jump up, anything but nothing happened. You realized that you were a helples prioner,locke away in your own mind, unable to control what you did or anything that happeed to you. Yo body was auppet, and for the moment someone else was pulling the strings. The most you could do was slide back in your chair, scratch your arm, an cross your legs. As you dd so, your foot brushed my pants.
“Wait. Hold it right tere. Slide yor shoe off and rub around a bit. I’m sure you’ve done this before.”
Your eyes narrowed at this further indignity, even as you nodded compliantly. You knew things were going to get a lot worse before they get better. Your foot gave several compulsive jerks, eventually causing your shoe to drop off, and your toes began to massage my leg. Suddenly, you felt your foot cramp, even as it kept trying to do its best in the important job of giving me footsie. Of course, you still maintained full sensation in every part of your body.
As the observant host of this little party, I noticed your touch becoming erratic and your eyes crinkling in pain and figured out what was wrong. At this point I didn’t want to cause you undue distress. “Okay, stop with the foot action and put your shoe back on. Any pain that you may have accidently experienced will disappear. Time for you to tell me something about yourself.”
Miraculously, the pain went away. You wondered how I had this power over your body, and even more, how you were unlucky enough to be finding out about it personally. Compelled, you leaned forward and started whispering sweet nothings in my ear. These included your name, age, height, weight, measurements, phone number, address, sexual orientation, current relationship status, occupation, bank account, and credit card numbers. You saw me busily copy everything down in a small notebook for future reference. It was dog-eared, fairly thick, and at that time, looked to be about half-full. Once a minute, as per instuctions, you stopped speaking,slid your tongue out between your smiling lips, and gave my ear a playful lick. You hated yourself for doing this, for not being able to figure out a way to escape. That was pretty irrational; even then I was well-practiced in my conversational skills. You hated me even more for turning you into a helpless automaton. I expected that. Finally, you were done with the core dump, and you leaned back in your chai.
“Time for us to leave. You will follow about 10 feet behind me. You can stop smiling for the moment. As wego, don’t give anyone any indication that anything unusual is happening. If you see any friends, greet them the way you usually do. I they want to stop and talk, say that you’re in a hurry and that you’ll get back to them. Oh, and take all your belongings with you and dump your trash as you go out.” Like algood mind control sadists, I ty to be nscitious out thenvironment.
I got up and hurried to the door, a little too fast. You found yourself jumping to you feet, practically knocking the chair over. Then your well-honed legs automatically went into a little jog, as you stuggled to keep up, almost tripping as you involuntarily halted at the wastebasket. You had forgotten about that part. You were forced to furiously sidestep to avoid bumping into people as the incoming lunchtime crowd thronged in the other direction. You felt pulled desperately along, as if there were an invisible tether between us. I was careful to make a lot of sudden stops and unforeseen changes of direction, which your body obediently mimiced. I’ve always enjoyed being pursued by beautiful women; it’s quite a kick.
Finally we got outside, and you felt fortunate that you had avoided seeing anyone you knew. You would have despised being forced to particpate in some grotesque charade of campus comradery, especially with my amused observation from the background.
We got to my car, and I told you to get in on the passenger side. First, we needed to make a little sidetrip to your house. You would be picking up some accessories for later fun and games. We arrived at your house quickly; it was only five minutes from campus. I told you what to get, providing the usual instructions for encounters with third persons. As you went iside, you sa some of your housemates sitting around in the living room in front of the TV. You waved at them, and they waved back. You tried to blink a message of distress to them, but it was too late. Your disobedient feet had already carried you past the doorway and to the stairs.
Still following my instructions, you ran up the stairs to your room. You pulled out an overnight bag and tossed it on the bed. In it you packed the following items: makeup kit; toiletries; a change of underwear; a miniskirt, one size too small (prefereably black leather, but you only had a regular black e); lack high heels (which you had); a black tank-top, one size too small (you realized I was into tight black clthes); clear panty-hose; your favorite party tape; a small tape recorder;and a bath robe. As you passed the mirror, you saw your own blank expression,with only the eyes alive, helplessly staring back at you. You tried desperately to think of something you could do to escape the prison of your own body. There ws nothing. Irresistibly compelled, you rushed back down the stairs, not even looking at your housemates, and got back into my car.
Now it was time for a longer ride, and we could get comfortable. We were looking for a suitable motel. Following my instructions you reached down, past the seat belt (wouldn’t want you to get injured) and took off your socks and loafers. Then you carefully lifted your left leg and positioned your left foot in front of my chest. I graciously moved my right arm out of your way. I was impressed with your flexibility. Your upraised foot spasmed for a moment, as you tried to resist me, then arched itself, then began to gently rub its ball across my crotch. I became instantly hard and almost swerved off the road. I placed my hand under your strong left calf, feeling the muscles bunch as your heel and toes rubbed themselves along my left inner thigh. Boy, I was having a great time. You could tell, I was into foot stuff. You were more worried about the other things I might be into.
I looked over to see what te rest of you was doing. I wouldn’t have wanted any of you to be bored. I sw that ur head nd shoulers were turned away from meand that you were staring determinedly out the window. Maybe you were trying to zone out from acknowledging the rebellious complicity of some of your other body parts. Even then, the clever little toes of your left foot were tugging a my zipper. I knew I could have assisted your inner escape attempt in several ways. I could have convinced you that both your feet were solidly planted under you. I could have put the rest of you to sleep. I could have made you think that you were back on campus or having a dream. Last, but not least, I could have made you even more anxious to to give than I was to receive. I could have done any of these things, but I chose not to. They were all too easy, and not particularly a lot of fun. In my own way, I respected you too much not to leave you the privacy of your thoughts, not to violate your awareness. At least, not yet. After all, who else was in a position to appreciate my work. I suggested that you turn and look at me. Your face was impassive, and no longer as pleasing to look at. This would never do. “Smile for me, won’t you?” I asked politely. Politeness is another one of my good features. I also rarely lose my temper, since loss of temper can be dangerous, especially, for those around me. I watched the corners of your month creep slowly upward. A second later a tear burst from the corner of your right eye, ran across your upturned cheek, and finally dropped onto your well-flossed gums. You always hated that idiotic, mindless, cow-like smile most of all. I leaned over to carefully brush the ter away and said, “Please don’t cry.” Suddenly you found you could’t. You didn’t feel any less helpless or frustrated, and the stupid smile was still sitting in the middle of your face, but suddenly your eyes were totally dry. I suspect you startd to wonder at this point if you would be able to get out of alive, or at least with your sanity intact.
I wanted to give the restf your lbs so tasks, because you seemed entirely too restive, and I was worried about dropping my guard. At my prompting, you leaned over slightly and started stroking your left hand along my right arm and the top of my right leg (the part not already covered by your left). At the same time, your right hand involuntarily snaked down between your legs and started gently massaging the outside of your pants-covered bush. This was merely for purposes of symmetry. I didn’t expect you to become aroused until later, but I liked the aesthetic of keeping both your hands busy. I glanced briefly at your large, round, upright breasts, but ended up shaking my head. I decided that we were still entirely too visible, and that there would be more than enough opportunity later. Your right leg seemed okay where it was.
One final thing was necessary to complete the present scenario. I ordered you to search your memory and describe for me, in chronological order, all of your previous sexual experiences and your thoughts about your partners while engaging in them. For a moment your face seemed to blanch, then your passionless monotone filled the car. I could work on improving the quality of your voice later too. For the moment, I was quite satisfied: our left foot, left hand, and right hand were industriously occupied; you were smiling along with me, apparently quite happy; I was hearing an interesting story; and we were rolling merrily along.