The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Your Place or Mine Part 5

I awoke the next morning, still bound, to find Her looking down upon me with a mischievous smile that spelled trouble. I glanced down to find myself dressed in my French Maid’s outfit. To my horror, I was disappointed that my ass felt empty.

“Tell me something Isaac,” She asked tauntingly. “Try to put yourself in my shoes and see if you can imagine any reason why someone in my position wouldn’t make you suck a guy’s cock for my amusement.”

I thought about it for a good ten seconds before finally admitting that I could not think of one. “I... I just hope that you won’t,” I said meekly. “Please.”

“But again,” She said. “Think about it. You know I have this power over you. You know I’m twisted, and you know that of all the things I’ve done to you, I’ve actually not fulfilled every threat I’ve made. But why shouldn’t I? Why would I make Chris do all these things but spare you?”

“You said that Chris pissed you off, but I’m just your plaything,” I said.

“That’s true, and yes, there is some genuine malice with what I’m doing to Chris that I don’t have towards you. But... well, you know how I like to play too.”

I looked blankly at Her and felt the humiliating sting of tears in my eyes.

She leaned in and said, “Tell you what: I’ll let you make a choice...”

I lost it. As illogical and futile and humiliating as it was, I began to struggle violently... as much as the bondage would allow anyway. I shook my head violently and blubbered, “No! No! Please stop... no, no... Oh no, pleeease...”

“Isaac. ISAAC!” She grabbed me by the face with one hand and forced my eyes upon Hers. “STOP!” She said, with the air of an exasperated mother addressing a child’s tantrum. I did.

“I brought home a man this morning. He’s in the living room handcuffed, naked and ready.” I moaned a powerless sob.

“You can think about this one for one minute before you tell me your decision,” She continued. “You can either suck his cock right now and like it—and maybe it will be the only time I make you do so—or you can spend five minutes composing a candid, written, signed and binding case to me why I shouldn’t make you do it, with the knowledge that if you fail to convince me, there will be a lot of cock-sucking in your future starting today, and I won’t make you like it... you’d have to learn that trick yourself.”

I paused for probably 10 of my seconds and asked, “What if I do convince you?”

She smiled. “Well, I can’t promise to stay convinced forever if that’s what you’re asking. I guess that depends on your argument.”

I can’t quite claim that my mind raced considering various possibilities. At first, I really only considered one: ultimately, I knew what She’d eventually make me do, and it would merely be a question whether She’d incorporate my enjoyment of it into the action. But then I began to think of the symbolic nature of Her proposal, what it represented of Her plan to bring about my eventual, inevitable surrender to her. How likely was I to convince Her in the first place if she deemed my mere effort to do so as an act of disobedience that had no place in her plans for me? And if failure to do so guaranteed a lot of cock-sucking while the first decision at least presented an opportunity to do it only once, the first decision was therefore the most logical way out. But try as I might, I could not convince myself to make that first decision. But was it defiance on my part that led to this inability? It didn’t appear to be so. Defiance was ultimately futile before Her, and I was aware of this.

And finally, it dawned on me... the only decision I could make.

“Miss, I’d like to compose my case to you please,” I said.

She looked at me and paused. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You do know what this means?”

I believe I knew what She was getting at. “Yes.”

She left the room for a moment and returned with a pen and a legal pad. She placed them on the chest of drawers, then approached me and undid my cuffs. As soon as I was able, I approached the chest of drawers, grabbed the pen, and began writing. I rarely had to pause, and any pause I made was brief. I’d never written anything before with such clarity and purpose, though sometimes the words that appeared on paper shocked me.

I didn’t need the entire 5 minutes and told Her I was finished.

“Excellent,” She said. Now turn and hand it to me, and then stand there until I finish. She took the pad from my hand, stepped away from me and read aloud, her back turned to me:

Dear Miss,

I have come to realize that I have no case to make, nor is it my right to even attempt to make such a case. I obviously would not want to condemn myself to a life of cock-sucking, and yet it is now clear that I cannot force myself to choose an option that presents a way out of such a life, not when the alternative of allowing You to dictate that action has been presented to me. Therefore, the choice is clear: it is your choice, not mine. I know full well that anything You’d want me to do will eventually be done. I submit myself to You, irrevocably, so that the need to present me with a choice is no longer necessary. My request to avoid sucking cock has been revoked as meaningless. If You make me do it, my only hope is that I can make myself learn to like it.

I trust that this is the most honest and convincing case I can make to You.

Signed,
Isaac

“Very nice, Isaac. And I trust that you do know what I meant when I said your case would be binding?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Putting yourself in my shoes, don’t you think a test would be in order?”

“Yes.” It was true of course. And it couldn’t be something I’d like. How much control would I actually be granting Her had I been able to choose the former choice, which would make me like the act? None, which I suppose is why that choice was unavailable to me.

“Isaac, if you had to describe what you are, what would you say?”

I thought about it for a mere second, the choice seeming obvious. “Your slave.”

“Well yes, that’s true, but I’m not having you do what slaves normally do am I? No, think of some other things.”

Now the answer was even more obvious. “Your plaything.”

“Yes…”

“Your toy,”

“That’s right. Keep going.”

“Yours.”

She smiled that terrifying smile I’ve seen so many times in my life.

“Go into the living room. There are two men in there actually, one standing naked in the center of the room, and the other sitting on the sofa. You will get on your hands and knees and suck the sitting man’s cock. The man in the center of the room will then fuck you. Is this clear? Answer me with action, not words.”

I did. Like Chris, I was compelled now and forever to follow Her direct instruction with the same inexorable force that compelled me to follow Her magical choices, forced into this condition by choosing it. But unlike Chris, I’d been conditioned to choose it as acceptance. I left the room and walked to Her living room, Her following close behind. In the past She’d taken me to this edge and allowed me to withdraw. I expected no such thing this time. Good thing my expectations were realistic. At one point during the act my eyes frantically wandered to meet Hers, and I caught Her watching with approval and satisfaction. “You’re all doing quite well,” she said. “Like you Isaac, Kyle and Tom have been chosen not to come unless I say so. And that will be a while. We’ll be taking our time here, I want your first time to be special. Tom, you can either fuck him with some more enthusiasm and force or I can put you on the receiving end. There you go! I met these two at the gym this morning. Tom was a personal trainer, so his stamina ought to be outstanding.” She stood over me and pissed on my back.

Her test was quite successful, for I certainly didn’t like it. And despite having had several opportunities since, with the promise of several more in the future, I still haven’t learned to. I’d like to ask Her to make me like it, but requests were a thing of the past.