Please, don’t be fooled into thinking this is a standard RU8 story, because it isn’t! I seriously thought about posting this under a different author name, but there are enough leads back to me, to make me decide not to do that. But if you want to see this as a ‘Merry brooks’ story, that is more than fine by me.
Thanks as ever to James for his wonderful editing work, and making it far more readable than I would.
Never A Wise Move
It’s funny what life sometimes holds for you, and how you discover it.
I used to be a shy little thing, never saying boo to a goose, and definitely submissive in relationships. Then things changed. Someone said I should try hypnosis before a big interview, and hey, didn’t it work? Made me more confident, and definitely more dominant in my lifestyle as well.
Not that I thought much about it; at my age I wasn’t going to go in for all this kinky BDSM stuff, and that’s what domination seemed to be all about in the ‘real world’. Of course, future partners of both sexes (yes, I didn’t say I was entirely without kinks, darling! ;) ) all seemed to enjoy having a woman who knew exactly what she wanted in bed, and around the house, and they acted accordingly. What I didn’t discover at the time was the latent, mysterious powers that seem to have got implanted somewhere along the way. It seemed not only that could I dominate people for fun—both theirs and mine—by means of orders, I could do a little more than that if I really wanted to.
Found out at an unusual place (well, unusual for finding and using magical powers at least): Immigration at Chicago’s O’Hare airport. Now, I understand they have a job to do, and mustn’t let undesirables into the country and all that, but so many questions at times . . . well, they can annoy a lady like me!
So after the third time of being asked where I was staying, how long for, and the third time proving I had an air ticket to go back to the UK in a week’s time, I thought to myself, “Why don’t you just stamp that passport like a good guy, and let me go get my connection.” I didn’t even say it out loud, for heaven’s sake, just thought it while glaring/smiling at him. Next thing I know, my passport is stamped and handed back to me with an apology for keeping me waiting so long! It was only because I pointed it out to him that he finger printed, and photographed me! Hey, Immigration people don’t apologise to anyone; believe me on that!
So next: connecting flight, back through security, et cetera, and all those lovely queues to do so! Only four entries open out of a dozen. Alright, I had time, but I can be an impatient bitch at times, so I said to the person in front of me,“I don’t know why they don’t have more desks manned at a busy time like this!”
Next thing I know there was a mad rush of staff in uniforms towards that area; I thought I was going to get arrested for insubordination or something—we all know how the TSA works! No, that mad rush was all people heading to open up desks and scanners and things! Next thing I know, all of them are open, and I’m through for my next plane.
Hey, I might have been blonde back then, but I wasn’t stupid; this wasn’t normal behaviour. And it all seemed to relate to what I said, so ... I experimented some, and yes, I could influence minds. I couldn’t make someone do anything truly dramatic, like make a politician see sense or something, but, if it related to their job . . . well, it was amazing what fun I could have.
So yes, not only could I get through Immigration in 30 seconds flat just by conviction, I could get them to give me an upgraded stamp in my passport just by telling them I needed one. Or, alright, being naughty and telling them I needed a green card (to live and work in the US) . . . well, I managed that, too, more easily than I thought (though it took me a second visit to actually get the card).
It seems my powers work far better on men than women; no idea why, maybe it’s just the way the brains are wired or something. So, on the first visit, I was able to convince her to refer the case, but no more. Second time up, got a man, and had the card in my hand in less than fifteen minutes!
I decided I needed to keep under the radar of anyone looking for people with special powers, so the big cities—including, sadly, Seattle—were out as places to set up home. I’d love to pretend that there was no good reason I headed for Kansas, and a little town called Cherryvale, and just claim it was fate. But we Dominant women don’t have to lie about matters like that; I had a purpose in heading there. Sadly, if the Brooks house was still standing, I couldn’t find it . . . At least I couldn’t convince anyone to tell me where it was if it did, and I did try! ;)
What I did find was a nice place, far bigger than one middle aged woman needed, but, hey, there were reasons for that. I legally changed my surname to Brooks, though I resisted the Mary bit; however tempting it was to do so, it just didn’t feel right to do that in this town. But yes, I died the hair dark, got a really good hairdresser to style me with the perfect long bob look, used Merry as a nickname, and then I let the hunt begin. In a small town, taking and enslaving local men probably wasn’t a wise move, so I didn’t. As I said: slip under the radar and no one notices you, even if you do end up looking a lot like a resident of 100 years ago! And oh, alright, she had a bit of a hedonistic lifestyle (allegedly); so why not have fun myself?
No, I didn’t lack for sexual activity, even if I was middle aged; it was ‘surprisingly’ easy to get the young studs to service me when I felt the need, and that was quite often. I went on the pill — didn’t want any babies coming along and spoiling the fun, that was for sure. And fine, I didn’t lack for female partners either, even if I had to work a bit harder to ensnare them, but most were more than willing anyway ... ;)
But okay: in time, the money needed to be topped up. Now I could have gone and found a nice male bank manager and convinced him to give me a loan without requiring repayment, but where’s the fun in that, with all these submissive men that are supposed to be about? Fine, I found a submissive bank manager, and he provided me with enough to keep me in the lifestyle I enjoyed, without getting himself into trouble. Combine that with assistance from a few of those I offered sexual heaven to, and, well, life wasn’t too bad, if I say so myself!
But what I needed was someone I could have around who would take me out for meals, generally spoil me, while at the same time knowing his place: at my feet, worshipping me! Yes, a personal slave, for my pleasure. Now, I wanted someone I sort of knew, whose company I could enjoy, and ideally who ‘owed’ me, so I didn’t feel too guilty about what I was going to be doing to him. Oh, and I wanted to have readily available sex at my beck and call, too!
I eyed up my Forum contacts for inspiration: those supposedly interested in mind control, even though some thought they would be in charge, knowing that, once they met me ... putty in my hands! There seemed to be three prime candidates, though given one was female, and had a girlfriend, well ... my powers wouldn’t work so well on her, and I hate breaking up relationships. She’d love my bondage toy-box though! Two seemingly single guys seemed to fit the bill, though one couldn’t seem to make up his mind if he was dom or sub. Of course, I could soon make him very submissive anyway, so that wasn’t a problem. Snag was, he seemed to be on the move, so getting my ‘friends’ to track him down and bring him here might be a bit tricky! Besides, he hadn’t annoyed me of late, so ...
Ah, the third candidate: single, male, so wonderfully malleable to my powers, though I had a little more than that planned for him. Well, for show at least: I don’t want him realising the power of my mind; I want him to think its the power of my technology, lol! And as he stays in one place, he won’t be hard to track down. And as for owing me, he stopped writing a story I was enjoying, so ... Oh, fine, all I have is a Forum name, but it’s amazing how easily traced an IP address is, for the right people, at least. And yes, darling, I know and control a few of the right people! ;) Not so many that the FBI would come down on me, just enough to insure that what Mistress wants, Mistress gets.
So, a couple of weeks later ...
“Where . . . where am I?” he asked groggily. I’d been kind enough not to gag him after delivery; I thought this might be more fun.
“Well, hello there, Honeybun,” I replied, doing my best impersonation of a Southern accent, just for show. “You happen to be in Kansas, Cherryvale to be exact. And you know what Dorothy said about Kansas?”
“Something about there being no place like it,” he replied.
“Absolutely right, sweetie, and there isn’t!”
He tried to move. That was when he discovered that I might have tied him down—just a little bit— before I let him come ‘round. I trusted he’d already realised he was only blindfolded, I’m not that nasty.
“I cant move,” he said—fairly pathetically I thought.
“Well given what’s about to happen, that might be for the best,” I replied firmly, then surprised him by sucking his cock until he was nicely hard and erect.
“Mmm” was the only reply I got to that, unsurprisingly. Little did he know, though, that there was a purpose for that which he might not like as much! I slipped the two bands over his erect cock, one as close to the balls as I could get, the other as close to the top as I could place it as well. I connected up the wires from the bands to the box, switched on, and slowly built up the power. At first he thought it was still pleasure —and, alright, at those levels it is. I’ve done it with clit rings to myself, so I would know, darling! ;) The thing is, naughty little me kept turning the power dial up to where, just maybe, it’s not quite so nice. It had the desired effect, though, he soon came like a fountain!
Now, at this point, a good girl would turn the power off, take off the bands, and let the poor man recover, especially as guys tend to ‘deflate’ at this point. But me, Mistress Merry? not a chance! The stimulation levels soon get anyone hard again, and he was no exception to that rule. I played with the dial a little this time, bringing him almost to climax, then switching down before powering up again. Finally, I took mercy, turned the dial up a little more, and got a show the Trevi fountain would be proud of.
He finally recovered his breath, and asked “Why are you doing this to me?”
“A certain story that seems to have ground to a virtual halt. Mistress isn’t pleased by that.”
He knew what I meant, and let out a groan, “But ...”
“But nothing. Leaving a story like that in mid-flow, for so long . . . well, it might annoy someone.”
I pulled the blindfold off, and he gasped, “Steph?”
I smacked him, not too hard though, “I answer to Mistress, Mistress Stevie, or Mistress Merry. Well, for you, at least, I do.” and smiled evilly.
“What?”
I hit him again, “What, Mistress” is permitted, simply saying “what” in my presence isn’t. You’ll learn, of course.”
“What do you mean by that, err, Mistress?”
“You feel that band around your forehead?” he nodded.
“You see that laptop over there.” and again he nodded.
“That,” I said pointing at the laptop, “Has a nice enslavement programme on it, and guess where it’s headed for: deep into your mind, complements of the headband. I need a full time slave to pamper me, and you’ll do nicely, as penance for the lack of story writing. But the coup de grace is ...”
“Yes, Mistress Stevie?”
“I’m going to mount you, and ride myself to climax while it’s doing its work. Isn’t that sweet of me?”
He looked at his flaccid cock and laughed, “If you think you’re riding that anytime in the near future ...”
He’d forgotten I still had him wired up. I increased the power, and he let out a yelp of slight pain, but grew as hard as rock yet again.
“See, I told you what I was going to do, and now ...”
I moved over to the laptop, pretending I was doing something significant, but I wasn’t. I was wet from all the excitement, he was certainly well lubed up, and I slipped onto him easily, a sweet squishing noise emanating as I did so. I rode him, long and slow, savouring every moment of it . . . oh, and rewiring his mind to make him serve as my obedient slave while doing so. Finally, everything was done, I was ready to fire, and I let him shoot a long, hot stream of his sticky juices deep inside me.
Now, just for the final test: I dismounted, and looked at him, “Well?”
“Thank you, Mistress, for making me yours.”
“The pleasure is all mine, slave.” I purred, satisfied with my work.
Epilogue
I never told him that the human mind sort of does a reboot after six months or so with the method I use. So, after that point, he could have escaped with nothing more than blank memories of his time with me. But he never did, and hasn’t yet, even two years later. To be honest, he’s pretty good between the sheets, keeps the house in decent order, and earns enough around here to pay for a few extra treats for Mistress. So I never got ‘round to sending him away.
Funny thing is, I heard some news from upstate New York, an area I know reasonably well. Seems that female submissive is now available, and well, it’s been a while since a girl licked my pussy. So maybe its time to call for another favour from my friend, and ...
;)