tagMind ControlBounder Ch. 01

Bounder Ch. 01


Synopsis: A roguish thief, noble cad (and indeed a bounder) uses his magical gift much against his inclinations to obtain justice and work for a good cause. He now finds himself upon an entirely different sort of career path than he would have preferred, one now of honor and integrity - much to his shock and dismay!

Sex contents: A Little Sex

Genres: Fantasy Adventure/Mind Control/Mystery

Story Codes: MF, Fantasy, Humor, Magic, Mind Control, Mystery, Oral, Anal, Slow (of course)


Thanks to my usual cast and crew of Editors and Advance Readers, most of whom prefer to pretend that they don't know me and wisely wish to take no responsibility for any part of my addled writings...

Based upon an idea by Dragonsweb!


My very first thought upon the young lady coming into my office was that she was badly overdressed. She was wearing far too much clothing, especially for a warm and humid late spring afternoon. Fortunately my second thought helped to start to take care of that little problem.

"You look a bit hot, my dear," I suggested, "so why don't you undo a button or two on your blouse and cool off a little?"

My words weren't merely a suggestion. I put a little mental effort behind it and locked her eyes into mine. I only needed a moment to make the connection to put my first grasp upon her will to begin to subvert it to mine. It's a handy little trick, to be able to undermine someone else's mind and take control of it, ultimately as deeply and completely as I could desire to do so, even to the extent of creating a mindless slave. I rarely take things to that particular extreme though. Mostly because it's mentally exhausting to utterly subordinate someone's will to the extent where my victim would no longer possess a thought that was not my own. Doing something like that takes a lot of time and effort... and is only rarely ever worth it, even for the amusement value.

Creating an interesting and utterly malleable plaything is all nice and well, and an occasional fun sport, but security and self preservation is usually of considerably more importance to me. Pretty young ladies, even ones that barge into my office unannounced and without an appointment, usually have family, friends, guardians or lovers, if not all of the above, and contrary to the beliefs of most homicidal roaring boys with poor impulse control that roam the dark alleys of the city at night, most toothsome young women who disappear (especially the decorative ones) will be missed by someone and awkward questions will undoubtedly be asked, sooner or later.

Fun is fun, but I take great pains to keep my own not inconsiderable impulses for amusement at least nominally grounded with a strong measure of caution. Or at least I try to these days. When one has the rare magical gift of influencing and sometimes fully controlling another person's mind you can't be either too careful or cautious. The use of magic is nominally legal within the Gray Empire, but only just. It's certainly not socially acceptable, even for younger son of a very minor lord. Being known or even suspected of having this gift is a good way to feature prominently in the files of the Guardia Imperia, the emperor's own secret police as suspect #1 in the likely event that something terrible might ever happen someday anywhere within a hundred miles of me. Disaster just waiting to happen and ten times, or even a hundred, worse than just being born a Sylvan gypsy!

Coming from a noble family wouldn't protect me either, or at least not much, and sooner or later I'd end up on the wrong end of a lynch mob or a judicial bonfire. Besides, not even aristocratic society can be bothered much to care about the fate of a fourth son, let alone one from a southern marcher family whose borderlands are weeks away from Mirabelle, the imperial capitol. Being from the nobility is useful, but marcher families are of a distinctly lower crust than most older and more venerable imperial patrician clans. Being a d'Bounderby does have its advantages... and its limitations as well and with experience I'm beginning to slowly understand the difference. The odds are even beginning to improve that I'll live long enough to reach the ripe age of thirty in a few more years!

I'd come here to Ormsford, at the furthermost most northwestern armpit of the empire, precisely to avoid that sort of problematic 'justice'. I'd pushed my luck a bit too far back in Mirabelle and left my exceedingly comfortable (and overly opulent) quarters there only just in time to avoid being questioned as a person of interest in a rather large blackmail and burglary ring. Against my better judgment, I'd allowed a rather weak link in my unfortunately oversized organization to be overly indiscrete and when pinched by the city vigiles watch he had wasted little time fingering me as the mastermind and his primary fence for the stolen swag. There was no firm evidence against me, but I had to 'suggest' my innocence and use my gift to cover my tracks rather more firmly and comprehensively than I would have preferred. It was a rush cleanup job too, and that never bodes well either.

Being young and ambitious, I'd let ego get into the way of common sense. In retrospect, I'd been too visible, too aggressive in my greed and quite careless in a number of ways. Without my gift, even my noble name couldn't have saved me from an extended stay in some imperial dungeon at His Highnesses pleasure, but I'd recognized the danger early enough and moved with alacrity to cover up my tracks. For the most part successfully. The fact that most of the local vigiles there were more bent than a thrown horseshoe helped save me as well. I couldn't count on that happening again here.

You can't pay off every guardsman, but if you buy the right ones you can at least have an adequate warning if their buddies start to show an interest in pissing in your morning oatmeal. Nothing against me could be proven... that time, but I had the rather good sense to realize that I'd already attracted a bit too much official attention. I could deal with polite inquiries into my business habits from the vigiles, but I absolutely didn't want the Guardia Imperia taking an interest in my affairs under any circumstances. The empire doesn't have many chartered magicians, wizards and the like... but they all seem to work for the Guardia on imperial business, such as ferreting out magic abusing weasels like myself!

A more honorable man would have used my gift for public service and accepted an imperial salary as a chartered magician, but not me. I had dreams, goals and plans to achieve them... and none of them were particularly honest ones.

I could have stayed and patiently endured the growing investigation against me, but it was smarter to just relocate away from the capitol for awhile to let the dust completely settle down and allow my name to become mostly forgotten. No one comes here to Ormsford for their health, but it was the third largest city in the empire and I thought that there might be some worthwhile economic opportunities to be found up here in the frontier. This city is the trade nexus for the entire northern region (mostly wilderness) and with the ruins of the fabled kingdom of Celantha (and its legendary riches) beyond the wasteland hills to our north, the city is home for adventurers, merchants, traders, factors, poor nobles and northern marcher clans, and also plenty of rogues, scoundrels and chancers just like me.

Fortunes are made and lost in the counting houses, docks and back alleys every day, and I've tried to take my share... but quietly, trying to attract as little attention and notice here as possible. That means keeping my ambitions and appetites much more under control, and using my 'gift' with considerably more restraint and moderation... much to my personal annoyance.

Overtly, I dabble with trade, which is still very much a semi-scandalous activity for any member of a noble family even in dire straits. To keep my hands as clean as possible from the indignity of actually owning cargos, or worse, having to possess actual inventories of physical goods, I much instead prefer to act as a middleman for other factors and merchants, helping them make bigger or better deals and then taking a percentage. Consulting and advising others is safe, and mostly easy money but the profits (like the risks) are low. Sometimes I'll buy or sell nominal minority shares in cargos or commodities on my own, mostly river cargos to and from the capitol, if I have the hunch that the profit will be unusually good. Once in awhile, I'll even risk a regional trade caravan, if I think the reward versus the risks are exceptionally good, but they usually aren't.

With my gift, it's easy to learn trading secrets, or inconvenient facts that someone wants kept hush-hush or hidden. Insider information on market trends, or the potential unsoundness of a cargo vessel (or its captain) can help avoid potential investment disasters. However, I do have to admit that most of my magically obtained insider knowledge tends to be utilized for more nefarious purposes.

Blackmail is an ugly word... but it is also extremely profitable, if handled carefully through suitable intermediaries... ever so very quietly. Knowing when certain wealthy individuals will be away from their home, or learning of a rich treasure worth stealing can also be extremely profitable as well. I don't usually dirty my own hands with the actual burglary, I have a few skilled minions for that, but I take my percentage... and ensure that my little gang keeps its activities quiet and irregular enough to avoid police or governmental concern.

That was my primary mistake back in Mirabelle, being too greedy and overly ambitious until my gang became too large and far too notorious to operate safely. I will not repeat that same mistake again here!

For appearance sake, I keep a small office on the street of the factors, Silver Avenue, sharing an office chambers with a couple of investment partnerships, a group of barristers that specialize in commercial contract law, and a noted commodities trader who seems to hear every worthwhile rumor first. The sign on my door states that I'm a 'Confidential Consultant', which means that I'm a 'fixer'. The man to go to when you have a problem that requires a solution that might or might not be legal, or requires certain caution, delicacy or even outright secrecy.

Most of my usual clients just want a second opinion on a potential business opportunity before they sign the contract and press their seal into the wax. Perhaps have me check out a possibly shady merchant, or the provenance of a dodgy cargo that might have fallen off of some wagon in the early hours of the morning in some dark alleyway. Not to mention misplaced shipments that might have disappeared some early morning from a warehouse. I've also investigated potential sons-in-laws and heiresses as well, to find any black marks on their characters or lurking family problems before the wedding. Getting a divorce is tricky work, legally anyway, so the smarter families do their due diligence long before any marriage bans get posted at the church. I've done my share of divorce work too, but only for exceptional fees. It takes a lot of dirt to obtain an annulment, let alone an actual divorce... even for the nobility. Not to mention the payouts necessary for a friendly bishop and then his archbishop too, to get their concurrence. My gift has been helpful there as well, influencing the desired outcome for further financial considerations.

Despite the growth of my more legitimate and entirely legal employment opportunities, some of the old business habits remain, and sometimes earn the sweetest rewards. By acting as the helpful agent to recover certain embarrassing documents or indiscreet love letters, or stolen objects d'art too distinctive or hot to fence, I can 'return' them to their original owners, collect a large fee and ensure the perpetual silence of the client. Furthermore, I gain positive word of mouth on the street as a premier fixer and problem solver... especially for the wealthier merchant clans and the local nobility. Sure I could make a lot more by flogging off the loot to other scoundrels and crooked merchants, but this method keeps most of the risks of any criminal enterprise to an acceptable minimum.

Slow and steady, as the proverb goes, often does win the race. It's less exciting, true... but there is now little risk and I can still enjoy most of the rewards! I had been far too bold and shameless with my rapacity back in Mirabelle and I was resolved not to make that kind of mistake again here!


My would-be client today didn't appear to offer the prospects of fattening my purse much, but appearances can be deceiving. And since she had arrived without an appointment and I was already in something of an aroused mood, I was just in the frame of mind to indulge in a bit of sport with her!

Looks wise, she hardly seemed to be worth the effort. She was young and a bit short and thin for my tastes and her white unblemished skin suggested that she spent little if any time out of doors. A touch of her hand to guide her to a chair by my desk indicated that she did some work with her hands but they were relatively smooth with little callous, except for her thumb and fingertips. Her blouse and skirt were simple but clean, and of good linen weave with a little hand-embroidered decoration, probably of her own hand-work. This suggested that she was probably from a crafting family of moderate means, but unlikely to be able to afford my usual fees.

Her gaze at me was purposeful, with her eyes focused and intense as I began to take the measure of her will. Undoubtedly her errand to visit me was something frivolous, such as locating an errant or wayward lover, a task for which I would have little or no interest in handling even for a pouch of heavy silver. As our eyes continued to lock as she seated herself down by my desk, I could feel my will begin to cloud hers. Also, now that my hand was upon hers making more intimate contact, I could now begin to sense her surface most thoughts, and her heightened level of overall worry and concern.

"Sir, I'm sorry to come barging in like this unannounced, but are you Lord Kyle du Bounderby? I need to speak with him most urgently!"

The use of the more formal 'du' showed that the young lady had enjoyed some education, or at least had basic knowledge of noble society and thus was trying to be exceedingly formal with me. No one, even back in the capitol, used 'du' even upon legal documents, unless their family name was usually old or powerful. The mere hearing of the formal 'du' in an introduction generally indicated to me that its possessor was undoubted a prat, or an asshole of the first caliber... and my favorite variety of prey. Being from a very politically unimportant family from an unfashionable corner of the Southern Marches made even the bearing of the noble d' title an imperial courtesy, rather than an ages-long right.

My great-grandfather was a mere imperial squire of no title and less authority with the name le'Nichols until the day the company of troops he served in lost its captain and both lieutenants in a nasty border skirmish. This left the young squire next in authority to protect a vital southern outpost near the desert, which he somehow managed. Suitably impressed with his success when he arrived with the main army a few months later, the then Prince Imperial gave him a battlefield knighthood, a title and a modest section of the newly conquered lands just north of the Sea of Sands. The lands weren't really very good for much other than grazing goats and sheep, but they were just productive enough to support a small newly noble family and barely keep enough men-at-arms to deter the desert tribal raiders away from richer imperial lands further north. Even three generations later, I noticed in Mirabelle that our noble family name still had the 'Marcher stench' to it and our betters took very little notice of us except to sneer. Snobbery is very much the primary court industry these days, especially with a rather paranoid and weak sitting Emperor who is constantly in poor health.

"My father is Lord d'Bounderby, so you may call me just Kyle, or merely Mr. d'Bounderby, if you must. Alas, I bear no noble titles and even the formal 'du' is quite excessively unnecessary for our minor Marcher family. But please my dear, sit and rest for a moment and take a few deep breaths... and do take off that collar ruff and let out a few more of your vest buttons so that you might take in the air more freely."

She did just that, unbuttoning slowly and with deliberation a few more buttons of her embroidered vest that covered a high necked linen chemise underneath. When unbuttoned as well, this now exposed her pale white neck to me and a little bit of her upper chest well above her bosom, but I encouraged her gently to undo yet a few more.

"Good girl... now a few more. And just a couple more... there, isn't that better?"

The view now certainly was. With a little more mental effort her vest was soon quite undone entirely and next her blouse was half buttoned as well, giving me a much improved view of the silk sleeveless bodice underneath and a hint of exposed cleavage. I noted with pleasure that her milky white breasts appeared to be at least as soft and unblemished as the rest of her skin.

My gift works quite adequately with just plain fixed eye contact alone, but it can take time to establish a firm hold over my victims will that way. With even minimal physical hand contact, I can speed up the process significantly and within moments her eyes began to glaze over and her mind became quiet, a blank slate for me to write upon, and impose my own will. I unfastened the last half dozen or so buttons of her chemise quickly with no complaint and a moment later I had stormed her final defenses, lifting up her silk bodice so that I could now place her bare firm small breasts into my hands.

With such intimate contact, she was now entirely in my power and I could now enjoy some limitless fun with her without fear of either refusal or interruption. My office on the second floor of my chambers had a private door and no one would barge in without knocking first. Well, usually anyway.

"You've been examining my hose, my dear, with interest at what it might conceal. Take your hands and release my cock and find out my dear and make its acquaintance better within your mouth!"

This was a command of course, and not a helpful hint or even a suggestion, and with her eyes closed in her hypnotic daze, her helpful fingers pulled down my hose without hesitation and my penis found a ready pathway into her mouth. For a young tradeswoman, she wasn't entirely unskilled and clearly she had performed this sort of service before, but probably not in any professional capacity.

For men, the wearing of breeches, even short ones, was rather out this spring and as this spring weather here was already quite warm, I had quickly adopted that fashion trend. This allowed my pretty young thrall to locate and release my penis quickly and with little effort. Even the doublets and jerkins were short this season, leaving nothing to give visual obstruction to cod within a gentleman's hose. As ever, fashion descended down from the imperial court to the rest of us mere mortals, and the Prince and Princess Imperial had quite entirely set the fashions for the capitol, and thus the entire empire, since their royal wedding early last fall. The Prince Imperial took almost indecent pride in displaying obscenely large sculpted cods under his hose that distinctly displayed his marital equipment 'up and out', and rather excessively so by prior moral standards of the church and the imperial court. Now the trend seemed to be to display the most 'erection' possible with your codpiece, within the limits of tolerable male comfort. Mine was strictly moderate, entirely average in its advertising of my natural masculine endowment. I possessed enough natural internal stuffing that adding much more in the way of excessive padding just made normal walking and sitting activating discomforting, let alone riding a horse! By the heat of summer, especially here and in the capitol, I was certain that the trend would be for a more natural display of a gentleman's cock and balls exhibited under just thin nearly transparent hose alone.

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