tagMind ControlDon't You Want Me

Don't You Want Me


I was sitting at the bar when I felt it happen. It started out feeling like a tingle, sort of like a wave of prickly heat that started at the small of my back and rushed all over my body. I thought for a moment that something had hit me and I wanted to...cry out in surprise, spin around to look for whatever did it, or really just do anything...but the realization that I couldn't move hit me almost as fast as the sensation itself. My whole body was rigid, holding a pose of casual relaxation with the intensity of a weightlifter. I was still staring down at my drink, and I could see the way that the muscles in my arm were clenched, holding my arm completely and totally still, but I was sure nobody else could.

Then the pins and needles started. You know that feeling you get when you've been sleeping funny and don't notice it, and your arm just goes nuts with pins and needles the moment you move? It was like that, only over my whole body. All over the skin at first, then receding deeper, like I had pins and needles inside of me. It burned up, into my spine and up into my brain. The brain's not even supposed to have nerves, I know, but mine felt like it was being jabbed with red-hot knitting needles. And all through it, I couldn't move, couldn't even blink. My breathing didn't even speed up, it just stayed slow and even. I don't know how long I sat there like that. Time seemed to distort and dilate inside my head. My watch was out of my field of vision, and I couldn't even move my eyeballs to look at it.

I was terrified at first, utterly panicked. I thought maybe I was dying, having a stroke or a heart attack or an aneurysm. But then I felt the thought enter my brain: I'm totally in love with Adam DeMarcus. It just seemed to sit there, deep in the core of my mind, and something about it relaxed me. Like the thought had been waiting there forever, and all the pain was just my brain finding the pathway to that one beautiful idea.

There was still some pain, though. It still felt like there was more to the idea, more to discover. I started to understand that my mind was trying to fight this...learning process, I guess you'd call it, but that's just a shadow of how intense it really was. But the more I fought it, the more it burned these new pathways through my brain, teaching me the absolute truths that I was having a harder and harder time denying. I'm totally subservient to Adam DeMarcus, I thought, and I let out a tiny sigh as the grip of the paralysis relaxed, just a little. I realized that the more I gave in, the more I let my thoughts fall into this new groove of obedience, the more I got back control of my body. Whatever it was that was holding me was just gripping me in place until I learned how to obey Adam completely.

You'd think I'd try even harder to fight, but I understood deep down that whatever was doing this to me, it was Adam's will that it happen. Adam wanted me to love him, to submit to him completely, and since I wanted that too, now, I just relaxed my mind and let the new teaching pour in. I'm sexually submissive to Adam DeMarcus. I want nothing more than to please Adam DeMarcus in every way. I must obey Adam DeMarcus. Adam DeMarcus is my Master... They just poured in, and I felt my eyes just unfocus and go glassy as my mind went all soft and pliable like putty, like clay for my new Master to mold. I could picture him in my mind's eye, now. I knew everything I needed to know about how to make Master happy, everything he wanted and everything he liked, and I wanted nothing more than to give it to him right now.

But I still couldn't quite move yet. My brain was still being adjusted--just tiny little brush strokes now, finishing details on the masterpiece of slavery that was my new brain. Every bit of programming integrated itself into my old personality perfectly, changing me away from the old Madeline Horowitz who had no real purpose in her life (aside from a dull job as a teacher and a passion for writing, but how could a half-finished novel possibly compare to the glories of servitude to Adam DeMarcus?) into a perfect slave.

Finally, with a tiny star burst glow of pleasure, the change was complete. My limbs returned to my control again...well, not my control. Master's control. My body was entirely His plaything, to do with as He willed. But I could move them. I turned, looking around and praying desperately that I would see...

There! I spotted Him across the room, in a secluded booth, holding a messenger bag (I'd once derided them as "man-purses", but Master couldn't make bad decisions, so my opinion of them changed in that instant.) I got off my stool, walked across the room to Him, and in a low, seductive tone, said, "My name is Madeline, Master, and I am Yours in every way to do with as You see fit. Use me, command me, make me obey."

"Oh...crap," He said.

I was confused. My brain still felt a little foggy as it adjusted to the wonders of servitude, but I felt fairly certain that this wasn't the response I was supposed to get. "Master?" I asked. "Is something wrong? Can I fix it? You know that anything I can do to serve You, I will do cheerfully and graciously without expecting reward."

Master rolled His eyes back and stared at the ceiling. "I was aiming six feet to your left," He said. "Dammit dammit dammit!"

"I...I don't understand." I felt a churning void of anguish in my stomach. Master was unhappy. I needed to fix it!

"The blonde, the absolutely stunning blonde girl with the double-D tits sitting six feet to your left? I thought I'd aimed the Synaptic Recalibrator at her, not at you. Why would I want a dumpy brunette when I could have her?" He looked in the bag, and I saw the glint of light on metal. "Now I'll have to sit here for a half-hour while this thing recharges. Fuck!"

I tried to wrap my head around the idea that Master could make mistakes. It just wasn't taking. Master was perfect and infallible in all things. It had to be my fault, failing to understand His plans. "What's a Synaptic Recalibrator, Master?" Perhaps if I asked Him to clarify...

He sighed, slumping His head forward into His hands. "It's the device I used on you. It burned new neural pathways into your living brain, etching specific codes of thought deep into the very core of your being that made you my sex slave. And it doesn't fire a visible beam, and I was hiding it in my bag so that it wasn't obvious I was using it, and I obviously missed the person I was aiming for and hit you instead." He waved a single perfect hand. "Now could you shove off? This has been kind of an ignominious start to my evening, and I'd rather not be reminded of it."

"Yes, Master," I said contritely. "How long would You like me to leave for, and where would You like me to go?"

"To take those questions in reverse order, I don't care and forever," He said in dismissive tones.

Just a few short minutes ago, I couldn't have even imagined the pain I felt on hearing those words. I felt like I'd been shot in the gut. "I...but..." I tried hard to keep the pleading out of my voice, knowing that Master wouldn't want me to make Him feel guilty or ashamed. "Don't You want me to serve You? Don't You want me to pleasure You?" I couldn't help it, my eyes started to fill with tears. "Don't You want me at all?" I asked in a tiny voice.

"Not even a little," He said. "You're pudgy, out of shape, and you're what, a B-cup? Why would I possibly want that when I could have the statuesque blonde over there?"

"I...I can get in shape! I'll work out every day, Master, I'll diet, I promise I'll make myself perfect just for You!" I'd never been that good with dieting before, and I sometimes skipped the gym for months at a time, but Master's desires gave a whole new definition to 'iron willpower'.

"And if I felt like waiting around six months for a girl who'd still be a five-foot-nothing mousy brunette, that'd mean something. Forget it. There's no room for dead weight in the harem."

"Please, Master, I...I don't need to service You sexually, I can clean, I can work around the house, just please, I need to be near You..." It felt undignified to beg like this, but I didn't care about dignity at all when it came to Master. No matter how degrading the service to Him was, it was still service to Him, and that was the center of my whole being now.

"But then I'd need to feed you and support you, and frankly, if I'm already getting a slave, I'd like her to be one I can decide to fuck while she's doing the dishes." I shuddered at the mental image of Master's cock entering me while I scrubbed, my fingers gripping the sponge until suds spilled out all over my hand as He penetrated my wet cunt... "Sorry, still a no."

"But--money!" I exclaimed desperately. "I could offer You financial service, everything I have! I'll sign my paychecks over to You, give You everything I earn every day!"

He paused. "Hmm. It's a thought. What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a high school teacher," I said shyly.

He snorted. "Forget it. I don't need the extra buck-fifty a month. Look, I'm sure you're a nice girl and you'd probably make some average guy very happy, but I've got the ultimate weapon in the war between the sexes, here, and I can have any woman I want. Even this girl is probably going to just be a warm-up act. I'm thinking porn stars for bed, movie stars for the glitz, and maybe a CEO or two." He paused. "Nah, probably not. I can get all the money I need from the movie stars."

I almost fell to my knees in front of Him, but my programming kept me from doing anything that would bring unwanted attention to Him. Instead, I slid into the booth next to Him and clasped my hands together in a pleading gesture. "Just--please, Master," I said. "You've got how much longer before the Synaptic Recalibrator recharges?"

He looked in the bag again. "Twenty-four minutes," He said.

"Then just give me that length of time to prove to You that I can serve You, Master. Just twenty-four minutes. If You're not happy with me by then, I'll..." Just the thought of leaving His side chilled me to the bone. "I'll go," I finished quietly.

"Oh, fine!" He snapped out. "But I really don't see what you think you'll be able to do in twenty-four minutes that can...oh." He didn't quite finish the sentence as I unzipped His pants and slid my hand into His boxers. From this angle, with both me and the table in front of Him, nobody would be able to see what I was doing. I wrapped my hand around His cock, just holding it for a minute and feeling its girth as it began to stiffen.

"Well, don't get me wrong," He said, "it doesn't feel bad, but...ooh." I gently began to slide my hand down His shaft, feeling Him grow hard under my fingers. "Okay, I'll admit that's nice, but I'm sure that any girl I find will be able to--" He inhaled sharply as I circled my thumb and forefinger around the head of His cock and slowly rotated them around. "I...oh..." He bucked His hips a little. "Do you do this with your students?"

I smiled a little, seductively. "I wasn't always a teacher, You know." I licked my other hand, getting it nice and slick with saliva, then slipped it down to join the hand on His cock. "My parents couldn't give me much help getting through college, so I worked as a stripper after classes." I slid my saliva-slick hand up and down His shaft just a little faster now, as my other hand slid down to gently roll His balls back and forth.

He sighed, leaning back in His seat as I worked His cock out of his pants to stand straight up. I shifted my body slightly to make sure to keep anyone from seeing. "You, um...oh, that's nice...you moonlighted as a stripper?"

I grinned, and not just because He was rock hard under my hands now. "I moonlighted when I was a stripper. There was always a little extra money for 'private dances', and money was pretty tight back then. And it wasn't like I was doing anything really wrong, or anything."

"No," He said, a tiny moan in his voice as I pulled my hand away from His balls and slicked it up a little more, while focusing my other hand's strokes on the tip of His cock, "you're definitely doing everything right, here."

Master's praise felt like a finger rubbing on my clit as I returned my hand to His cock, sliding one hand all the way down to the base while the other one caressed the tip, then sliding the other hand down while the first moved back up to the top. "I got very good at using my hands...and my mouth...I'd so love to show You the way I use my mouth, Master, but I can't, not here in public...You'll have to take me home with You to let me show You that..." I felt a little bad, teasing Master like that, but I could tell from the way His eyelids fluttered and the precum that was leaking off His cock that I was pleasing Him, so I couldn't feel too terrible.

His hips were now shifting in a constant rhythm, back and forth as I stroked His cock, fluttering my index finger against the tip while my other hand stroked up and down the shaft. "Oh, I...you, you'd have to train the other girls how to do this, you know..."

I absolutely shuddered with delight at the implication of His words, but it didn't break my concentration for even a second as I kept up the attention to His cock. "Of course, Master, I'll do anything to serve You." The bucking of his hips had become irregular now, no longer the thrusting rhythm of sex but heading to the spasmodic jerks of impending orgasm. "Anything at all," I husked out, reversing my motions and stroking up the cock to the tip.

"I...I...ofuckyes," He grunted out, clenching His teeth to stifle His moans of pleasure as He shot His load all over my hands. The simple understanding of his orgasm brought me to a swift and silent climax of my own, and knowing that it was my programming that made it happen made it no less pleasurable. Almost as soon as He'd finished spurting, I brought my hands up to my mouth and licked His pleasure off my fingers.

"Thank You for letting me pleasure You, Master," I purred out. "Does this mean I can be Yours?"

He gave a little half-smile. "I suppose. Conditionally. You'll need to do that exercise and diet."

"Of course, Master."

"And I'm not ruling out a boob job."

"Whatever You desire, Master."

"And you'll need to dye that hair."

"Whatever color You wish, Master."

He was smiling now. "And I think I'll have you bring me a few cheerleaders every now and then."

"Absolutely, Master."

"Alright," He said. "You're mine." He sat up a little, and slid His cock back into His pants. "And your first job as my new slave is to get that blonde over here, close enough so that I won't miss this time. I don't want to wind up bagging every woman in the place before I get the one I want."

"Of course, Master," I said, glowing with pleasure. I had been allowed to become Master's brainwashed slut after all...and soon, I'd be helping Him transform other women into His helpless thralls. Don't you just love a story with a happy ending?


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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous11/13/17

Good heavens! That was awful! “Happy ending” indeed!

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