tagMind ControlFeminine Allure Pt. 10-11

Feminine Allure Pt. 10-11


[Sweet Torture]

Sweet torture; that's really the only way I could've described it. In all the time I spent with my Mistress, most of it was in-service to Her, under her power. There were times though where we could just talk about other things in our personal lives, things I was happy to have Mistress actually care about. I'd never expected her to be any kind of sports fan; but was pleasantly surprised when she told me she was a football fan. I'm certainly not saying women can't be sports fans like some stereotypes suggest, but seriously, how many beautiful women do you meet end up being interested in sports? (Lucky bastards who can say 'a lot' please don't gloat). Anyway the Eagles, my hometown team, were in-town to play the 49ers this week, and I bet my Mistress could sense my excitement when she suggested we watch it together. My company rented out several floors of a newly-built apartment building, and all the employees were from Philly, so it became our own Eagles stronghold in rival territory.

Of course, my excitement deflated once I saw Her arrive in a 49er's jersey. She wore it with pride and playfully tugged at my Eagles jersey, as if showing all the Eagles fans we passed who was really in-charge. I winced at the "dating-the-enemy" comments, mainly because I was thinking how She conveniently left that part of Herself secret until now.

Once inside my apartment, I wanted to ask why She chosen to keep Her favorite team confidential, and why she led me around by my shirt like that, but we both knew the answer.

"You know my Subject, normally I would scold you for wearing such displeasing colors," she said matter-of-factly, brushing a finger down across my chest. "But since my team is a shoe-in for victory, watching your reaction to your team being knocked down a peg seems like fitting punishment." 49ers fans weren't normally arrogant like Mistress sounded, but had anyone else said that I would've reminded them how much we improved from last year, and how no analyst thought SF and a snowball's chance in hell of winning. Of course, this wasn't just anyone, so I was reduced to neutrality. "I expect it's anybody's game today."

I've told her before that I'd been an Eagles fan all my life, so knowing who she preferred now, I visibly cringed when she asked what I hope she'd never ask that day. "I don't suppose there's any way your Mistress can make you a fan of my team, can She?"

Of all the unfair questions...the ball was in my court, but I stayed silent. I couldn't even manage a playfully stern look like I wanted to give Her. She held my cheek and told me not to worry. "I'm not looking for a verbal response today..." she said, bringing our faces together so we looked into each other's eyes, Hers taking wit and other thoughts away from mine. Her words remain a verbal blur for a few seconds, and then came back into clarity. "And that's what I think, how about you?"

"Um...am I allowed to think?"

"Excellent question sweetie. You are. For now."

The game whistle blowing got our attention and we sat down together. For the first time, I'd hoped she would've kept her hypno-games to a minimum, but since I doubt she could seriously affect the players playing, I was curious as to what she did to me.

The Eagles kicked the ball to the 9ers, and it was underway. Jackson, a rookie runner new to SF with lots of potential, quickly showed why he was such a good draft pick by getting halfway across the field, avoiding some of Philly's speediest guys. I could hear a lot of screaming "no's" from my neighbors. I would've no'd too, but was shocked to end it with a pleasurable moaning "ooh".

Arousal. Arousal at my opponent's advancing. She asked if I was alright; I shook my head up and down, hoping this was just some stray "being near Her" reaction. When the next play got Jackson a 1/4 of the way closer to a touchdown, and I started to harden, I turned in Her direction, looking accusingly at a smile She was having trouble hiding. She finally turned in my direction trying to stare at me hard. Her eyes were still penetrating, but I only felt myself softening a little against this surprise.


"Because I can," was Her answer. A simple enough answer that actually stimulated my growing problem all the more.

"Where's a ref to call 'foul' when you need him?" I ask half-jokingly.

"What makes you think he wouldn't be seeing things my way too? And anyway, I'm your ref. I think I should determine what's fair and what's foul. In fact, I'd bet you'd look really cute subconsciously responding to a whistle blowing. Just imagine the vibrations..."

I had to focus back on the game, or else those eyes would've had me shaking all over from her suggestion. I turned just in time to watch the SF QB throw a good pass to a receiver already at the goal. Suddenly my arousal spiked and I was left at a high, just short of release. It felt so good, my "oooh"s drowning out my neighbors "No!"s in my head.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

Never having associated football with anything arousal related before, I was certainly confused, until I remembered that it was mainly coming from my obeying Her commands. I uttered a small yes, hoping She'd be ok with it.

Rubbing her hand over my chest felt good, yet muted somehow. On a whim, I took off my jersey and the bliss was there in-full as she grazed my chest again.

"There's a good subject" I heard.

With the Eagles on the offensive, I noticed that my arousal slowly, but not completely went away the closer they got to scoring. I looked at her again, wide-eyed. She didn't even bother looking my way and suggested seeing how the rest of the game went.

I couldn't say anything more, just wonder how easily my lifetime allegiance could be so affected.

Eagles took the next two touchdowns, and my arousal stayed in a very, very light state, still there, as if waiting for the right conditions for more stimulation. It received it in the 2nd quarter before half time as the 9ers made an amazing interception that made me sink to the floor in blissful "agony".

Half-time was great for both of us as Mistress had me hold Her and tell Her how much I loved serving Her during the commercial break. I threw in a few kisses to Her neck, to see if I could persuade Her into letting me release sooner. She enjoyed herself as much as I did, so much so that I'd almost entirely forgotten about the game. May have worked if the commercials lasted longer.

From this point, I tried to will myself back to silently being on the side of the Eagles again. The pull of those sensations of the 9ers winning was strong, but I hoped my team wouldn't let me down and that I could survive with a nice buzz and maybe have to deal with a disappointed mistress.

That would've been nice if that had happened. However one toppled Eagles QB later, the 9ers offense got really aggressive. Mistress watched with glee, even getting more hands-on with me. Just her arm around my neck and her hand on my thigh was starting to drive me crazy. 3rd and 4th quarter both teams were tied, looking for probably that last score. I was proud of my Eagles, even with their pivotal QB in need of recovery. But I didn't lie to myself as I knew with Jackson; it was only a matter of time.

Sure enough, a terrible Eagles fumble where Jackson just happened to be nearby, and he was off running. Mistress was screaming and clutching at me "Go! Go! Go!" My neighbors were yelling combined "Stop him!" "No!" Instead of my moaning, I was chanting "Go!" right along with her. Neighbors were banging against my wall as She was the loudest of us all. As if on cue to Jackson's running, Her hand moved to my crotch as she chanted "He-could-go-all-the-way!" Neighbors chanted in curses, and I screamed orgasmically the moment I heard "all-the-way!" Mistress was gracious enough to quickly cover my scream with a kiss as I came in my pants. The kiss lasted as long as my release did, and I could feel the smirk of her kiss as our lips pressed against each other.

Next thing I know, my head is in Her lap, an uncontrollable smile on her face, directing it all at me.

"Why Subject, have I made a 9ers fan out of you?"

Not having the heart to tell her no, not even able to tell myself no, a faint "yay Jackson" was all I said.

She chuckled as She got me up off the couch and took me into my bathroom to clean me up. Once I had my jersey back on, and a new pair of sweats, I came back into the living room and saw Mistress talking to someone on her cell.

When the call was over, I started worrying again as another wicked smile crossed her face.

"Maybe we should pay a visit to Ms. Skeptic; being we're fans of the same team, I know she'd love seeing an opposing fan on his knees and converted. The more proof the merrier."

She holds the stare for as long as she can before breaking into laughter. "Aw, come on Subject. I'm not that cruel. But then again, I might know of a good sports bar to visit later. I know they'd all be surprised to see an Eagles fan praising the 49ers; this supportive side of you is so sexy. And we're definitely watching Sports Center tonight; what a wonderful quickie that should be."

I was the one laughing when She was done talking; all of that sounded too good to be true. Mistresses who love the same sports as their Subjects are so awesome.


[Conflicting Perspectives, One Outcome]

It was bound to happen sooner or later; maybe fate took mercy on me by leaving me at the mercy of my Mistress for so long with a light workload that UnEng is used to leaving me.

For a bit of background information, I work at Universal Engines, or UnEng as the employers like to put it. I started with the company around the time of its inception, and was placed in an engine development position. My accounting minor from college led me to assist in some of the corporate finances when we were still small enough. Always trying to do cutting-edge stuff in the industry, moderate workloads were the minimum effort required. Once we got big enough to be recognized by other competitors as a viable threat, some guys I know ended up needing something like Betty Ford treatment after a while, for those who weren't passionate enough or didn't' feel like roughing it in an unsure job market. My threshold for stress and tolerating corporate bs has probably kept me employed as long as it has, but I got something better out of Mistress's "treatment". Betty Ford results usually mean recovery, Mistress's treatments was more revitalization. Feeling refreshed at the workplace is rare, but I took as much advantage of it as I could, able to avoid glossing over small details in reports. I had no idea it would lead me to what I found.

Some true genius work from some of UnEng's brightest put us on the verge of a foothold in a new wave of environmental technologies; an engine that could improve on performance of, and support most automakers with "going green" electric cars. As optimistic as things were looking, it was clear the workload would have to be shared, and some capital support was needed too. This new project that got me moved out to San Francisco in the first place was a big enough deal; certainly big enough that UnEng employees coming from Philadelphia were camped out at Trode Electronics home city, working in their offices. I was surprised it was my boss, Sam Penn's initiative to establish a joint venture with our main competitor, as my supervisor's usual idea of forward meant keeping low and waiting for someone to slip up. I had to give him credit for how risky yet profitable the potential payoff sounded, but those who weren't purely thinking dollar signs thought about what whom stood to gain more, and worse yet who might be taken over as a result. Anyone who knows the engineering field probably shat themselves when they found out UnEng and Trode were working together on something. But for an engine that could serve as a blueprint for any cars looking to go green for the next 50 years, money made things happen.

I had dual responsibilities on the project, making sure we weren't getting screwed on the deal, and checking minute schematic details. Something I wasn't supposed to find accidentally found its way to my desk. Needless to say, I spent long hours looking for the 'it' again somewhere else in corporate paperwork, like an addictive puzzle that wouldn't let me rest until I solved it. Add to that the paperwork version of "hell week" and I wouldn't have cared if I ended up pulling a thread that unraveled the project altogether.

I hadn't talked to Mistress in almost a week, and hoped it would be longer so I wouldn't have to explain how I'd easily missed two nights of sleep and ready to work on a third or fourth if need be.

"Boy, upstairs must really love you. Look at all the bounty they've blessed you with."

One of my neighbors from the apartment had walked in. I had few friends working in this company, and unfortunately though he could be an asshole at times, he was the closest thing I had to being on constant speaking terms with someone.

"Yeah, lucky me." I'd hoped the sarcasm in my voice would somehow say that now wasn't the best time.

"Did you even ask for more time to deal with all this?"

"You'd ask that, knowing management?"

He couldn't argue with that, but it felt like he wanted to bring up more, or something else entirely since he was still there.

"Not to insult you or anything, but how can you stand to be you right now man? Honestly with all the bullshit that goes on, you're the only guy I know that has a mock-up letter of resignation but won't use it, even when it feels like they're daring you to."

"Exactly what are you getting at?"

"Honestly, I'm just hoping you're not retreating here to not have to deal with the sep-"

I looked in his direction; I must've looked angry the way he kind of backed off and stopped mid-sentence. I was more confused than anything. Before I could ask him to complete his sentence, he started backing out of the office.

"Ok, ok, guess I crossed the line there. Just...sorry man, I'll see you later."

Much as I was curious in what he wanted to say, I just went back to work knowing I could ask him later. It was going to be hard enough getting the work on a deadline finished, plus my extra inquiry. My cellphone started ringing; I noticed the number and wanted more than anything to answer my phone. Just looking at it made me sigh. I really wanted to talk to Her, even in the possibility of Her whisking away the world that weighed heavily on me then. Problem was I knew Her words wouldn't kill this workload by itself. For the first time, I ignored Her.

It was around midnight of that day, or the next day that I'd delved more into the extra inquiry, and maybe 2/3 into the mandatory work. I'd gotten deep enough into it to realize what might really be going on. My boss was in bed with our competitor; it made too much sense really.

He was privy to most of the dealings with our partnering company; it gave everyone involved a heavy-enough workload that most wouldn't even have time to think about it. It was a worst-case scenario come true, we would assist our rival in acquiring technological advances worth millions and millions in the long-run, and we'd be screwed royally out of the deal. Of course, the proof I needed to confirm this would have to come from people just as high a position as Penn, who'd either have to be dumb, deaf, and blind, or in on it as well. When all would be said and done, my bastard of a boss would most certainly have a high position in Trode Electric waiting for him, and UnEng would take a massive hit for resources spent, nearly zero revenue gained, and being beat out in the market place with exclusive rights.

At that point, I didn't have the guff to call it fact, and resigned to finishing the mandatory paper work. I was so tired at that point, when the phone rang, I decided to not even check to see who was calling.


"Aww, my Subject sounds so very sleepy tonight. How lucky you are that your Mistress can help tuck you in bed tonight," she spoke sweetly.

She made it sound so tempting; it took a great deal to fight something I wanted for something I had slight trouble giving a damn about.

"No Mistress, please. Now isn't the best time."

"What's wrong," she asked with a concern that broke away from the temptress tone she'd used seconds ago.

"It's work; I'm pretty bombarded right now, and have a lot to finish before I can even think about bed, if I can afford it. I know it might be out of place for a Subject to ask, but may I take a rain check on that mental tucking in?"

There was silence for a few minutes on her end, followed by "how many nights sleep have you missed already?"

I was taken aback for a minute, not just in how she knew that, but what my response was to be. I didn't want to lie, especially since she could get the truth out of me, and the truth wouldn't have made either of us feel any better.

"This isn't healthy. I know your work is important to you, but I'd rather not have my Subject lose necessary sleep, especially over a company who works him like a rented mule."

"I know Mistress, I even agree with you, but I don't really have a choice now."

She'd stopped herself from saying something before she sighed deeply, and there was another minute of long silence. It didn't take her long before she found the words she wanted.

"You're right, you don't. Just listen to my voice for a moment..."

"No, please, I told you I can't do this right now." My voice went up as I let myself get a little angry. Even if it was in my interests, I couldn't believe she was taking this road with me.

"It really isn't wise to raise your voice to me like this Subject, nor is it the time to think you have a say in this anymore."

"Your spell isn't going to get this work done. I think-"

"You think whatever I tell you to," she interrupted in a sharp whisper.

I was so tired then that it didn't even register in the first few seconds that she induced light trance from a trigger. Half a minute later I could already feel the world getting a little blurry. Internally, a tingle ran up my spine and in no time a felt a displacement of my mind from my body. She kept speaking her words incomprehensibly clear to the floating part of me. I could barely feel my mouth moving, responding to something.

"Where are you now?" was the only thing I could make out.

"The presentation," I answered.

"Very well then. Close your eyes."

My eyes shut and I can tell she's told me to lie down on the bed near my desk. Her words bring us back to the stage where our fantasy of the Feminine Allure presentation had taken place. Everything was the same, save for the comfortable therapist's couch I was spread upon with Mistress sitting in the love seat close to me. The class was there, talking amongst themselves. Mistress's hand was placed on my forehead and she used the other to snap her fingers, silencing the whole auditorium.

"They're receptive now Subject; you may speak."

Then I started speaking in a long stream of sentences, like it was all bottled up, waiting to be released. It felt odd, yet nice how freely it was coming from me, pouring out. I knew on some level I was telling her and that lecture hall everything. Everything that was bothering me, everything I'd figured out or theorized, and who knows what else. It was made easier by her touches on my forehead, like I was letting everything I was talking about go, to make way for pleasure in place of worry.

I could vaguely hear the audience speaking faintly, and I responded to whatever they were saying. Mistress said nothing, but simply listened to everyone else talk. For what I tried to be aware of, the audience as a whole was my subconscious self, talking with my conscious self, both in agreement of what I really wanted, despite what my consciousness felt tied to. After a while, Mistress silenced the room again, and spoke directly to me.

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