The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Sincerest Expression of Love

Part Two: In Vino Veritas

Ba-DunDun Ba-DunDun Ba-DunDun

The next song started with the hammering of drums. “Please,” I gave her my warmest smile and waved towards a nearby table, “make yourself comfortable.” I had to be careful here, I knew telling her to be comfortable was an easy one though; your body knows how it wants to feel whether you think about it or not. The table we sat at was your standard strip club trapping. Adorned only with a slightly soiled ash tray and old water stains.

I ran a palm over the nicked surface. I was going to need to wash my hands soon, amongst other things. I pulled out my little silver canister, tapped out a line on the table, and snorted it. “Ahh, that’s the shit,” I said as I put the slender vial back in to my pocket. She held my gaze as she sat down. Her eyes were a piercing amber in color and beneath them a smattering of freckles. I would love to say that she looked back at me with sensually rapturous intent, but her look was wary, almost furtive, like a bird looking at a cat hunkered outside its cage. And she was much like a bird, I pictured her being held in my hand, I could feed her, or crush her. Or she could fly free. Or she could poop on my hand. Okay let’s get rid of this bird metaphor.

I asked for her name.

“Jennifer Crassner,” she said. It had been so long that I had heard a woman tell me her name that this moment took on special significance for me.

I leaned forward, my knees were touching hers. “Jennifer, what do you think about what I have going on here? With them, with you?” I could see her grappling with the ideas, she weighed the consequences. The blush on her cheeks spread and I watched as it traveled from her neck, down across her chest and then turned a splotchy crimson. This was a psychosomatic response, not to shame, but sexual excitement. Eventually the view ended at her sweater, an article of clothing that was unfortunately too high cut, revealing absolutely no décolletage. I sighed, all things in their due time. I needed her admission.

She smiled, showing me a row of slightly crooked but sparkling white teeth. “I think I like it, but how—” Her question died with the realization that the answer did not matter to her. Of course, her apathy mattered to me, but more on that later. There was nothing about my ability that prevented certain people from lying to themselves, or to me.

I stood up. “Follow me.” She followed my instructions. As we walked over to the bar the sound of crunchy guitars throbbed through the establishment. I pictured Jennifer on the stage, swinging with what I assumed was, based entirely on what her clothing indicated; a lithe, fit body, around the brass pole. We stopped in front of the bartender, his face still stuck in the same ridiculous grin I had left there earlier, and sat at the bar. I asked a non plussed Jennifer what she wanted to drink. With her answer I gave the command for the barkeep to prepare ten tequila shots. While he did that, I made small talk with Jennifer.

“So how do you know Mary.” Mary was the dancer she had called out to when I caught her in my web.

“She’s my roommate. I give her a ride here some days.”

“You said she forgot something?” I hated having to lead a conversation, given that this was the first open exchange I have had with another person since I couldn’t remember how long, but I understood she was probably still in shock and not running at her full potential.

“Makeup bag. I, oh, I dropped it when I saw what was going on in the champagne room.” I nodded. She was starting to read my tone, inflection, body language. I noticed the shots were prepared.

“Drink them until you feel a buzz,” I downed a couple myself before I heard that the CD I had set up earlier was repeating a song that had already played. Was I getting drunk, and what time was it anyway? I started to ask Jennifer for the time when the front door opened and in walked a vision.

Her blonde hair was feathered in an almost retro 70’s style. Her face went from a look of disdain to friendliness as soon as she saw me sitting at the bar. As she flounced over, her braless breasts wobbled magnificently underneath her thin white top. And the closer she came, the more those same breasts took on a conical shape. I soon saw they were capped off with thick, puffy nipples protruding from beneath the fabric of her top. As she rounded the elbow of the countertop Jennifer’s face appeared in the line of sight.

It appeared her eyes were glued on the new girl’s tits. Ahh, a complication, how delightful.

“Tom,” shouted the stunner. Well, now we know who Tom is. “Mack’s acting weird at the door.” I was going to test her before she could screw up what I had going on when she put her arm around Jennifer. “Hey Jen, still trying to check us out for free? Get your license and join us on stage sometime.” She looked over at me. “Ohh, who’s the handsome big spender? Just let me get out of these rags and I’ll show you why you should spend that dough on me, hun.”

Me, handsome? Ha! And she just walks in and just muscles in on another girl and what might be her potential customer? Not that I am a monster or anything, but sometimes even monsters can be used to inflict justice. Just saying.

“Shut up and stand still bitch.” Ahh the outrage in her face. Delicious. I stood up, nearly fell over from my recent intake of more alcohol, reached out and grabbed the blonde’s radio knob sized nipples and tried to change the channel. Her face immediately scrunched in pain, tears quickly flowed, but she made no sound.

“Please stop, you’re hurting her.”

Out of sheer amazement, if nothing else, I dropped my hands and turned back to Jennifer. “I like her,’ she shrugged. I was beginning to reach the end of my patience with the lovely Jennifer. She should pick an outline and stick to coloring it in.

“What is her name?” I heard Jennifer mumble it out. “Whitney. Excellent, Whitney walk your sweet ass over to the champagne room, disrobe, carefully take the bottle out of Tanya’s pussy, lick the rim clean, insert it inside of your pussy and wait.” I watched Whitney’s tight ass nearly consume her shorts as she walked off. I then turned to Jennifer. “You a lesbian,” I asked.


“I fix problems for my friends, I assumed you wanted to be my friend, was I wrong?”

“No, I like… this,” she said.

“You also like Whitney apparently, so you can have her in a few moments. Tell me the name of the person you like least in the world and I can hurt them for you. In exchange, I expect devotion. Which means whenever I ask something of you, your only answer will be yes, otherwise, I will just stop asking. Finish the shots and think it over.”

Honestly a fair deal, in my opinion. She only drank two more shots before I heard her say, “David Crassner.”

“Who is he, uncle, brother, father?”

“Step father, I am stuck with his last name though.”

I didn’t bother asking the rest. Standing in a strip club listening to a female tell you she hates a male relative, you already know the reasons why. “Let me show you how this will work.” I reached out and grabbed her left breast. “I leave you the power to choose, via my questions. I stop commanding and simply ask, and you are free to answer with your words or actions. So, do you like it when I fondle your tit?”

She did not pause with leaning forward in to my hand. “Yes.”

“You say that now but out of all the ladies I’ve known, only one managed to say yes to everything I’ve asked of her.” I leered then, the one that could cause babies to cry. “Alright, go play with your bombshell, if that is what you want, just leave me your phone, if you don’t mind, I need to keep track of the time and- shit!” It was already past seven. “The night crew usually come in by now?”

“Yes, they don’t leave the day girls much time to make money. And Whitney, I don’t…”

“You don’t want her or don’t understand that I can command her body to obey you just as I can command you to obey me?”

“I don’t,” she paused then shuddered and went still, only the slow exhale of breath which caused her breast to move in my hand, alerted me to the fact that she was moving at all. I wondered if I had broken her somehow when she nodded. “I want her.”

I walked towards the champagne room, I knew she would trail along. We reached the room and found the day girls were still at it, the two girls on their backs being eaten out by the other two. Whitney stood in the corner, looking perfect in her nudity, minus the bottle hanging from inside her and the ugly purple hue to her nipples. I gestured to across the room. “In addition to Whitney, any others you want?” Ever the gentleman, I reached down and removed the remaining bottle from Melinda.

“Mary, Tanya, and Angela,” came her reply. Interesting that she chose those, as I knew she lusted for the blonde Whitney. Given Jennifer’s tresses were nearly black, she thought blonde hair was beautiful, but not on her. The heart wants what it wants until affect creeps in the way.

I got all the girls separated and then instructed the three she chose to obey Jennifer’s every command. I then double checked the time, set her phone down on the table, and gave her a swat on her ass. I was going to see her body, I was going to see her in ecstasy, but it would be entirely on my terms. Plus I had to monitor the front entrance, so I left.

It was the correct decision, because before I could even make it to the remaining shots on the bar, another burly, bearded fellow carried a large gear bag inside. I watched the bartender reach for a bottle to throw and then then he stopped. Ah yes, the new fellow must be the DJ. I called him over. After our long talk he took his place in the booth and switched out songs. I didn’t know if the act of choosing what to play would cause him to shut down, based on past experiences I knew that it might eventually, but I decided to leave that up to chance, just so long as he followed the script I laid out, things would prove to be fun later.

So it was with a dark, relentlessly furious soundtrack and the sight of me downing shots and snorting rails of my powder that met the next entrant.

Her name was Ramsay Walsh and she was a freckled redhead with pale skin, a pixie haircut, and a cute smile. That smile went away once we began to speak. The conversation we had caused her to go to the dressing room then emerge wearing nothing but her jewelry and high heels before she ascended on to the stage. As instructed the DJ performed a generic call-out I had made him memorize earlier and Ramsay danced. Her large hips gyrated in time with the music, which made her DD cup sized fake breasts bounce. She had large areolas, larger than Mary’s, but Ramsay’s were very pale, nearly the same shade as the rest of her skin tone and thus in the limited light they were almost impossible to discern. Only the protrusion of her long, thick nipples marred the velvety smoothness that was her breasts and therefore, the near perfect illusion that Ramsay had barbie doll titties.

I mocked her relentlessly and only stopped when a new woman entered. I spoke with the newcomer also. Her name was Cheyenne DeSilva. No, that wasn’t her stage name. She was a brunette tomboy dressed in a country/western motif. Her blue jeans were so tight I could see the clear outline of her vulva. She also had a large, firm ass, the best out of any woman there. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the sort to talk, so she did as Ramsay did, made it on stage and danced beside the redhead as I worked on a new row of tequila shots.

Next, like a cliché from a bad erotica story, walked in two females arm in arm, one asian and one black. We talked and by this point in my stupor, I knew only the notion of how this night would end was keeping me functioning. I don’t remember their names save that they both had their pussies pierced. And while they didn’t respond to my voice as I had hoped, I could tell from the scars and bruises on the tall asian girl that the two of them were in to rough stuff. They both made it on stage to dance among my growing harem when one more female entered.

“What the hell Tom! We doing full nudity now?” I jolted from my descending catatonia and motioned her over. Her attitude was nearly the only thing I liked about her. She was a butter faced brunette goth girl reject covered in bad, tacky tattoos. I questioned her but was so toasted and her reaction was on the borderline between light and dark so I gave her free reign to speak.

“Let me go you motherfucking—“ I shut her down and pulled off her thin black tank top. Underneath was a padded underwire bra of matching color. I told her to lean over and watched as the open space inside the cups of her bras revealed a pair of one inch long, half inch thick nipples.

I giggled and picked her up and sat her on my lap. I pulled her bra down and immediately began to suckle on my weakness: gigantic nipples. I bade her to kiss me, and so I alternated between French kissing this hag with her large nose and overly protruding man-jaw; and nibbling and sucking on her big, stiff nips. I did slip my hand down her pants only to find that nestled between her plump, fat flaps was an abandoned mine shaft cluttered with dirt and rocks. After prospecting for gold for a few minutes and only finding black lung, I bade her to follow the others and shed her clothes and then she joined the other girls on the stage.

I snorted another line, building myself back up, and massaged my hard cock. Narcissists always turned me on the most. But no more of that, it was time for the featured attraction. So, after instructing the bartender with what I wanted, I sent Ramsay to retrieve Jennifer, Whitney, and the day girls. While all that occurred, I watched the ladies on the stage with no worries of if they were dancers, waitresses, or health inspectors. No concern over their desires, their dreams, their fears. I looked on with no empathy for them at all. I did feel sadness though; sadness for myself. My heart ached at what I didn’t see, and that lack only made me pine away even more for Sarah. She would have been alone up there, bearing the brunt with a smile on her face. Did I write too much dear reader? I downed another shot and wobbled my way to the champagne room. The girls were still getting themselves together. I grabbed Jennifer’s phone from the table and checked the time, shit it was nearly ten o’clock.

Jennifer was dressed and the other girls were all standing, I hadn’t seen an inch of her body to give away the truth of what had been going on back here. Only the stains and wet spots on the couches and the carpeted floor told the story. Jennifer approached me and I met her by putting my hand between her legs. I felt the heat radiating from within her pants and kissed her. She kissed back hard and even bit down on my tongue. Naughty girls always tell on themselves.

“Wouldn’t you like to go on stage, show me every beautiful millimeter of your body, show me inside you, to show me the real you?”

“Yes, I would love that.”

I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her again. “This is going to be so much fun.” We then made our way back to the stage, our little caravan. Once there I asked Jennifer to finish the remaining shots and inquired if she would take it slow once she got on stage. She nodded yes as the DJ, having been pre-instructed prior to this, began playing the song I wanted while doing a call out just for her. His nasally voice boomed over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, coming to you on the stage right now is the badass bisexual brunette with a killer ba-ba-body. She’s gonna shake that hot ass for you right now so get those dollars ready for Jennifer “Cluster B’ Crassner!”

I set her phone down, returned her beaming smile, and watched the slow gyration of her hips as the songs I picked for her played. The sound of an organ splintered in to discordant notes of a circus theme and she began to gyrate her hips and ass, eventually finding a rhythm within the song’s cacophony of violent overtones. Her dark, shoulder length curls bounced along in time with her movements. Eventually she reached down, grabbed her sweater and pulled it over her head. She had a thin black lace bra underneath.

A new song began before she could remove her jeans, which proved to be no problem at all. As an effeminate male began to scream about his violent sexual fantasies on the new track, Jennifer turned, unbuckled her pants, and slid them down her legs with stylized pizzazz. She wore a black lace thong that proved to be a match for her bra, except she wasted little time in removing said bra, providing a full view of her breasts.

They appeared large and firm; but moved in a way as to denote the fact that they were natural. I would say she was a D cup. They were capped off with dark pink areolas, the size of poker chips. Both areolas were quite bumpy, each covered with Montgomery glands (see ladies, I do care enough to know) and her left breast had an inverted nipple. I pulled a dollar out and motioned her forward. She knelt and crawled over to me, providing the best view a man can have of a woman; in my humble opinion of course. I placed the dollar between her breasts and she squeezed them together. After that I just reached out and kneaded her tits with my hands. And pulled the one with the inverted nipple to my mouth. I licked her nipple and areola, the salty tang of her sweat combined with the bumps of her Montgomery glands made for a saline taste and rough texture that reminded me of half chewed peanuts. I sucked on her inverted nipple, my eyes looking upward and locked on hers, until I felt it pop out in my mouth above the surface of her breast.

She bit her bottom lip in a display of passion so fake I almost ended the charade right then, but I remembered she still had her panties on. I grabbed her thong and pulled, not quite ripping it off of her, but leaving part of it torn. One more strong tug and it parted from her body to reveal a completely shorn vagina. “Lie back and spread your lips open.” I did not ask nor did she notice that I had used a command.

She did as I told her to and leaned back and opened herself to my inspection. I picked up her phone from the table and turned on the flashlight function before using the added illumination to expose the soft pink folds and, after peeling back the hood, her little lady nub. The music ended and I asked, “so what did your step father do to you?”

She propped herself up on her elbows to stare at me. I noticed the look she gave the day girls but waited all the same. She smiled then, her real smile, and answered, “he rejected my advances.”

“Please explain,” I gave her my real smile too.

“After I started to develop I loved the attention I got from boys, but I especially loved how they would trip over themselves to do what I asked. Just flash some cleavage, laugh at there jokes, hold their hands and they would take me anywhere, buy me anything. Hell, they would fight each other, one boy put another boy in the hospital, all over me. The teachers would give me good grades, if it was a male teacher I didn’t ever have to study though I fucked around with female teachers too. I had every man and some women wrapped around my finger, except my step dad. It didn’t matter what I wore or didn’t wear around the house. All the times I tried to get him to look down my top, up my skirt, to bump his arms against my boobs. It got so bad I would pretend to sleep while fully nude with my bedroom door open. He would just shut the door! So, I lied on him, told people he touched me. I ruined his life, got him divorced from my mother, got him sent to jail for a few years, wrecked his reputation.”

She studied me intently, she searched hard for a read. She rolled her tongue around in her mouth and I cocked an eyebrow in response. “He was the one man I wanted but couldn’t have. I will never get tired of hurting him, and I can’t wait for you to meet him soon.”

“And all the other people you’ve hurt?”

“We can hurt them some more, the ones still around. I know that’s your thing.”

“Your thing as well, it seems,” and then I hit send on her phone.

Meanwhile, outside in the parking lot

Sarah slammed the car door. She had given up on waiting. The music from inside the club had gotten louder, as did the voice of someone she assumed was the DJ. This had gone on entirely too long.

Victims she had found had all told her about the sick things he would do but nearly all of them said he would quickly get bored and leave and eventually his commands would wear off. That is how there were enough witnesses out there to create a national manhunt.

She knew him better than any human being alive, even his family. Ezekiel could shed his current identity like a snake molting away dead skin, it would never change the monster hiding underneath, the one she loved and was prepared to die for once again.

Since an open confrontation could not be avoided, and lives were at stake, she stopped at the entrance to the club and dialed 911. She didn’t have to shout, however, as the music had stopped and now the building exuded an eerie silence.

“Hello yes, my name is Sarah Williams and I found the man you are looking for. The serial rapist! He is at the Meat Market. No, the strip club on Fulton street! He’s assaulting dancers right now, please send lots of police!” She disconnected the phone and wedged the gun down the back of her pants, its cold barrel pressed erotically against the crack of her ass. She pulled her shirt down to hide the handle, took a deep breath, and stepped inside a nightmare.

To Be Continued