Cornflower Blue

A STRONG, HARD, BODY and a disciplined mind, make the man. As a telepath and a dominant alpha male, I take what I want. I place commands or ideas and suggestions into people's minds in two ways. Direct control is for immediate compliance. Contingent on the situation, I may invoke strong overwhelming emotions such as terror or panic, to achieve my desired results.

For permanent results, I use subtle mind control. Think of "subtle" as pleasant and soothing whispers, repeating over-and-over in overlapping circles in a person's subconscious. Soon after I've selected them, I'll induce a "light trance," this best describes it, and they won't be aware of it. I'll make eye contact, as during any normal conversation, so that I may talk to the individual, and they'll reveal everything to me, including their deepest secrets, longings, and desires, should I ask.

It may take several weeks, contingent upon the individual, for my subtle, soothing whispers to be ingrained in their core to ensure their compliance and loyalty to me is absolute, and just as importantly, for them to be content and happy with this aspect of their lives. Their basic personality, core values, and beliefs, and all other relationships remain the same. I see to their overall well being; they now are under my protection. I have five-hundred people under permanent control. They are in my Circle. They contribute to the good of my closed network, sharing a portion of the wealth and resources, and they look out after each other as a whole.

Women are a particular interest of mine and discovering a woman's unique qualities and the nuances of their personalities for them to be my complaint, submissive lover. They will prostrate themselves at my feet if I so desire.

I've had many women in my lifetime; one at a time or two or more together, mostly short dalliances, a few months or so. I then move on, making them forget; however, a dormant key command is always present to bring them back to where we left off.

I remove the sexual inhibitions from these women to give them multiple orgasms and sexual nirvana, to have them almost begging, if not outright begging to perform oral sex because to them semen is an aphrodisiac more potent than any, real or imagined to keep them firmly under my thumb.

I prefer women with long hair, and I will insert a subtle suggestion to make it their preference for themselves, always, including my former short-haired dalliances, assuming their hair texture and facial features are suitable, should I decide to revisit their carnal delights.

For most of my selected women, long hair becomes an integral component of their self-esteem, and part of their identity as a woman. Cutting, their hair, while they suck on my cock, or making them do it themselves, or sending them somewhere to have their hair cut short, is the ultimate punishment, and a component of subtle control.

I occasionally use direct control to enjoy brief (a couple of hours, or a day) dalliances with any woman who strikes my fancy, when the opportunity arises, including married women. These women will wake up from a deep and refreshing sleep with an altered memory. They will not remember me after. The husbands of these married women, should I deem them good men, will enjoy the gradual changes in his wife and her increased sexual appetite, plus attentiveness to please them in the bedroom.

I take special delight in adjusting the attitudes of beautiful, arrogant, wealthy elitist, rude women. They will prostrate themselves, and crawl to kiss and lick my feet, for the privilege of performing oral sex, and they will do anything to curry my favor to receive their orgasms.

Their penance begins with no makeup allowed. I require these elitist women to wear simple, modest, clothing-dresses preferred. I may send them to a preferred hairstylist to receive a blunt bowl or mushroom style haircut should they have long hair. Depending on the woman, I may decide not to cut it. I will require them to keep their long hair in braided pigtails until their penance is complete; to humble them and remove their arrogant vanity.

They will clean my house thoroughly from top to bottom, while they're naked if instructed to do so. It goes far to teach them manners and respect for the feelings of other people. It is good to have an obedient and grateful temporary housekeeper in my-residences, estates, cottages, and timeshares, naked or otherwise.

I have found that intelligent and creative women; artists, writers, or musicians for example, college-educated or not, make the best submissive lover using subtle control to prompt their imagination, and biological sexuality to release their carnal delights.

Sandy Anderson is my submissive live-in lover, personal secretary, and travel companion. She is not aware I am a telepath. Now 28 years of age, Sandy is an attentive, compliant woman with a curvaceous and delightfully petite figure. She is five feet, five inches tall, and weighs approximately 120lbs. She has a tight little ass, and exquisite firm and round breasts with wonderfully pink and sensitive turned up nipples.

Sandy's eyes are a vibrant cornflower-blue, and she has a wholesome, healthy peaches and cream complexion. She has a small and slightly turned-up nose and delicate, dainty ears. Her generous and full cupid lips complement her youthful appearance.

She's also a natural strawberry blonde. Her soft and thick, silky tresses are a luxurious delight to my eyes and fingers. Sandy has grown her hair out to the classic length, precisely blunt cut straight across the bottom. She will never have layers cut into it, or change the color without my permission.

When I allow her to wear it down in public, always with me, her luxurious tresses fall past her buttocks to caress her upper thighs. Sandy is required to wear her hair up when she goes out alone in public. And not just in a ponytail; but in something that hides the length of her hair: a dancer's bun, braided bun, chignon, a French twist, etc., as a constant visual reminder of her submission to me.

Below is Sandy's perspective (words) on how we met, and they are factually accurate. She is, of course, is writing this to please me, and all that may follow.

WHAT CAN BE MORE LIBERATING for a woman to embrace her true biological nature, and to experience sexual nirvana and rapturous orgasms beyond belief? I reject the unnatural, artificial, modern social constructs of what constitutes a man or woman; the fleeting ideas of a warped modern industrial society that discourage, deny and constrain a woman of fulfilling her true biological sexuality. A truly liberated woman submits totally, heart and soul to her man.

I grew up in Aurora, Nebraska and lived a quiet and sheltered, life, as the younger of my two sisters, both of them married with families and children, in the town where we grew up. They attend the same conservative Christian church. My sisters, like my mother, abide by the tradition of women in my mother's side of the family of having long hair, inspired, in part, by 1 Corinthians 11:15, "But if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her."

Our small church was an important part of my life until I left home. My Daddy is Deacon there, and my Mama teaches Sunday school. Mama defers to him in most things. I love to paint and draw. Pottery and creating from clay comes easy for me, so, I left home and moved to the East coast to attend college in Rochester, NY, against my parent's wishes, because of my yearning to travel, and expand my horizons beyond my hometown.

They all but disowned me. My parents cut me off, financially unless I returned to my senses and returned home. My sisters, however, understood and supported me, sending money when they could, as I focused on my studies, and maintained a 3.3-grade point average or better. I didn't have time to date or see anyone.

I was out of college for a year with a Masters of the Arts, and heavily in debt for my education loans. I sent my resume to dozens of places, finally hiring a professional service, and still, no offers or prospects in my career field. I was still a virgin, saving myself the right man.

It doesn't matter now. I've found my place in life. He asks so little of me and gives so much. Aaron has given me a rich and fulfilled life with the opportunity to travel, often at a moment's notice, and to see and experience new places and meet interesting people; goodness, he knows so many. He is a strong, forceful man. He can be very persuasive. However, he's also polite and respectful with most people, and they naturally defer to him.

I've never heard him curse or swear. Aaron says profanity is an indication of a weak and undisciplined mind and lack of intellect. He also says a strong, hard, body and a disciplined mind, make the man. Sorry, I'm a bit off track, but it is important to tell you how I feel about him. I love him, and I know in my heart of hearts, Aaron loves me.

I left off with no offers of jobs in my career field, and so, it was necessary to settle for a minimum wage job working in an upscale Barista in Pittsford, NY. In consideration for having open availability for my working hours, the owner and my boss, John Randal, rented me a small, but very cozy studio apartment with one bedroom above the business for modest, no, for a blessedly cheap rent that included all utilities.

After working there for a year, I received a two dollar an hour raise and a week paid vacation as a bonus for being his top employee. I went on a five-day shoe-string budget vacation in August to the 1000 Islands, and my friend Mary, from college, was going to meet me there for the weekend. We were staying in a little bed and breakfast in Alexandria Bay, NY. I drove on ahead to get everything ready. It was Pirates Weekend in the Bay, and we were going there for the nightlife and to party. Have a few drinks and listen to the bands.

People packed the main street with all the bars and taverns, restaurants and souvenir shops near the water, including the public docks; some in costume, dressed as colorful and flamboyant pirates, or tavern wenches in a 1940's Hollywood extravaganza, Mary and I included. I know how to sew, and I made our dresses, to be used again at an upcoming Renaissance Fair in Sterling NY.

We had a great time; we listened to three different bands, however, as they say, "All good things must come to an end," or perhaps good things may begin at the end? It was after one in the morning. Mary was exhausted from drinking and dancing with a young med student. She and Michael seemed to hit it off, and Mary was to have a late dinner with him on Sunday. God bless her. She returned to bed and breakfast to crash, and sleep in late; we both would, we were on vacation. I decided to walk down to the public dock and sit on a bench, watch the stars, and to listen to the waves lapping the shore before turning in.

I was halfway down the weathered wood dock when I heard heavy, lumbering footsteps on the planks and drunken menacing laughter, followed by vulgar sexual comments directed at me.

I turned to see two large men behind me. I tried to walk around them, but they stood in front of me, making kissing noises and lickings their lips. One of them stayed in front of me and the other behind me. I could smell the alcohol on their breath. They got closer, and the one with the teal polo shirt and tan chinos shoved some money into my dress between my breasts.

He then pushed me to his partner, and they pushed me back and forth between them, keeping me off balance, and one of the hundred dollars bills came out and fell onto the dock. They were laughing and trying to grope my breasts while trying to kiss me. I took a deep breath to scream, and before I did, I saw movement on the right, and the larger of the two, wearing the teal shirt was thrown effortlessly head-over-heels into the river, and yes, it was Aaron.

My remaining assailant was wearing a red polo shirt and brown cargo shorts. He raised his hands, palms out and said, "Hey, pal, I don't want any trouble. It's not how it looks."

"You are a liar. Move away from the lady," Aaron ordered, and when he did, "Miss, get behind me." I did, and Aaron asked, "Are you hurt?" I shook my head, then finding my voice, I said, No, not really," and he replied, "Good if you have a cell phone, dial 911."

"Listen, Buddy, she approached us earlier and promised us a good time. We've already paid this whore five hundred dollars, and," Mr. red shirt couldn't finish his lie because Aaron hit him twice, his fists blurs of motion; jab, jab, lightning-fast strikes in the stomach, making him clasp stomach and bend over in agony, gasping for breath. Aaron then kicked his feet out from under him, sending my assailant crashing to the dock. "That was a love tap, poltroon, would you like an encore?" The coward shook his head, not meeting Aaron's eyes.

"And you," Aaron commanded, turning to the man trying to climb out of the water, "If you like having teeth, stay where you are and keep your mouth shut until the authorities arrive."

FAST FORWARD; My assailants turned out to be Real Estate Lawyers from Ontario, Canada. Theirs was the largest triple-deck Cabin Cruiser docked there. They loudly proclaimed their innocence and their intention to sue us into poverty, as the New York State Troopers led them away in handcuffs.

After they were gone, Aaron sat on the bench on the dock next to me and asked, "Are you sure you're all right?" "Yes, I'm fine," I replied, really looking at him for the first time, and thinking, 'He's not wearing shoes. He came out of nowhere, all six-foot-three of him and he is barefoot.'

"My cabin cruiser is that one there; I'm roughing it," Aaron said, jokingly and pointing in the direction he came from to rescue me from them. That explained his bare feet and what he was wearing. "But first," Aaron, offered me his hand, "My name Aaron Blackthorn, Miss, and you are?" I was thinking, 'He's not wearing a wedding band.'

"My name is Sandy Anderson," I replied, taking his hands in both of mine and squeezing, "I want to thank you for coming to help me the way you did. I'm not from around here. I'm on vacation with my girlfriend, Mary. We're staying at a little bed and breakfast on James Street," and I was thinking, 'Maybe he will offer to walk me home.'

"I know where it is; the red house on the historical registry. It has green, yellow and violet gingerbread trim and white wicker furniture on the porch. Good choice, I know the proprietor, Joyce Barnes. All that aside, it is late, and I insist you let me walk you home after I put my sneakers on. I won't take no for an answer, Miss Anderson."

"How long will you be in the Bay, Mr. Blackthorn?" I asked, hopefully, wanting to know more about him. "I'm leaving in the morning, Miss Anderson." He answered, "I'm returning to Pittsford and back to my office. I'm interviewing for a personal assistant, slash secretary. The job pays well, and she must be willing to travel at a moment's notice. And I will be interviewing three prospective candidates over the next few days."

"Yes, please, Mr. Blackthorn," I said, accepting his offer, "and call me Sandy. I'd very much like you to escort me there." "I will, Sandy, and you must call me Aaron."

I learned the origins of many biblical names in Sunday school. In Hebrew, Aaron means "Mountain of Strength," and I thought, 'Aaron's name certainly seems to fit him. I wonder if he's seeing anyone.'

Aaron left for a moment, and he returned wearing sneakers. He took my arm, in his, and we leisurely walked to James St., making small talk. I did most of the small talking, primarily asking him questions. I learned he is a consultant, financial counselor, and a negotiator. He oversees a network of people, an organization he calls the Circle. The Circle has diverse investments, financial interests, and prime real estate throughout the Country.

I also learned the personal assistant position required bachelors or better, and the pay and benefits are more than generous; four times than I was making, not counting the perks of travel. It was the perfect job if I could convince him to hire me, and who knows what might happen from there. I was thinking, 'For that kind of money, I can pay off my loans in no time. I'll have to update my resume and fast, and it doesn't hurt that he's eye candy.'

Aaron is a handsome man, with a hard, trim body and the ropey, steel corded muscles of a mixed martial arts fighter. His brown eyes can be calming, and kind; or hard and resolute, or worst case, dangerously terrifying. He was 30 years old when we met. My love has dark brown hair that he keeps cut short and neat, and he is clean shaved. He was wearing faded cut-off blue jeans that night and an honest white cotton tee shirt. That is how my Daddy describes good men, "He wears an honest white cotton tee-shirt," in other words, he is down to earth.

It is difficult to explain the deep emotion I felt for Aaron that night, a total stranger. They were warm and overwhelming. In my heart, I felt very safe with him, and coming here on vacation was one of the best decisions I'd made to date. We sat on the porch and quietly talked for a while, and I can't remember how long. Finally, he stood up to leave. At that moment, I trusted him as if I'd known him all my life. As we stood on the porch of bed and breakfast, I hugged him and thanked him again. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye, Sandy."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out his business card, and said, "If anything comes up, if you should need me, this is the best number and address to reach me." He then took both my hands and kissed them, wishing me a good night.

That night, I made up my mind to apply for the job. I couldn't get Aaron out of my mind. He was in my dreams that night. They were varied and pleasant, some erotic. I woke up around ten in the morning from a dream of Aaron in our bedroom, and he was brushing my long hair.

FAST FORWARD; I returned home the next day, cutting my vacation short.

I had Aaron's business card and drove to the address to check it out. Aaron's Office was in a two-story cobblestone house, with a small cobblestone barn converted to a garage by the previous owner. A fieldstone fence borders the property, and the backyard ends at the Erie Canal. There was a small floating dock with a cedar strip canoe on it, and the setting was quiet and peaceful.

Wasting no time, I returned home, made myself a cup of tea, and updated my resume, rehearsing in my mind what I would say to Aaron.

The following morning, at ten-thirty, I delivered my resume personally, and when he answered the door, Aaron greeted me warmly, "Sandy, what a pleasant surprise! I thought you were on vacation? As you can see, I'm not barefoot," and he smiled, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to apply for the job, Mr. Blackthorn; my resume," I handed it to him, and he accepted. Aaron was wearing a tailored navy blue suit, and white shirt with a maroon tie, and he looked stylish, imposing, and professional.

"I haven't made a selection yet, Miss Anderson. One of the three is already out of the running. She was 30 minutes late for her interview, and it wasn't an emergency. She also has an issue with traveling and doesn't like to fly. However, I have an appointment for the next applicant in 30 minutes, and one tomorrow at nine," Aaron opened my resume folder and briefly scanned the contents. Closing it, he said, "I can interview you tomorrow morning, ten-sharp; be prompt. His demeanor changed, and his eyes became stern, almost uncompromising, "Come inside, please."

I stepped inside the flag-stone floored foyer, and he closed the door behind me. "My office is to the right, please have a seat," and when I did, he put my resume on his desk and remained standing, "I maintain a strict dress code during business hours. Business hours are nine in the morning to four in the afternoon Monday through Thursday when not traveling. Friday is a paid workday. However, it is an on-call day to be available if needed.