I can make people do things

I am abnormal. I was born that way. I can make people do what I want them to do. Anyone. Anything. Anytime. But only one person at a time. No mass hypnosis. And what’s worse, I’m mortal. When I’m hurt, it hurts. If the bleeding doesn’t stop, if I can’t breathe, if I don’t drink water, I die. Just like everyone else.

So - you can imagine what that means for the profile I keep. I cannot let anybody know. No friends, no family, no government agency can find out. Take a moment to think about what would happen to me if they did. Am I an asset or an enemy? Almost certainly someone would kill me to protect themselves.

For those of you thinking wow, what power, what bliss - think deeper. Did you ever hear the story of the lady that was granted three wishes? The old witch that gave the wishes said she could have one a day.

The first wish was for a large sum of money. Within hours she learned her son had been crushed to death at work. The compensation for the death was the exact amount she wished for.

The next day she wished her son was alive again and his mangled body screamed and writhed in agony until the next day when she could wish him dead again.

Point being, if you ever have wishes, you better have your contract lawyer with you. And if you can make people do what you want them to do, you better be very sure the ramifications don’t make things worse than they already are. I can make you give me a pay rise, but unless I spend all day every day pointing my energy at your head, I can’t stop you regretting the decision and hating me for it. I can make you give me the keys to your car, but it won’t stop you calling the police to get it back. I can get a President to start a trade war with China, but not make him do it with any sort of intellectual or emotional intelligence. (I didn’t do that, by the way, that wasn’t me.)

So, if I influence you in anything important, I need to know you were already in the general area of that decision. When I turn my influence off, I can’t have you feeling bewitched. You’ll hate me for it.

But - I can make the odd person suddenly worry they left their purse in the car and step out of the queue in front of me. Or have a waiter give me the best seat available. Or have my landlord agree to wait a day for my rent. Even if they wonder afterward what made them do it, it’s not a disaster, right?

----------

Mary-Felice sat with Tom Gu at lunch. He was an industry leader in semi-conductor, a young billionaire. She was an aspiring headhunter, hired by the best of the big four to set up their in-country desk in tech and engineering recruitment. Tom had given her the time for lunch at the request of his godfather, who knew Mary-Felice’s grandfather from college in the US.

“I don’t have any business to give right now,” he said as warmly as he could. “We don’t usually use your firm, I know, but even if I did your family a favor, I don’t have a role open.”

Mary-Felice knew that wasn’t true. Tom underestimated her connections in the market.

“But if there was a role, in future, what would I need to do to have a chance of getting the project?”

“MF, you’re a bright young thing. I know your education is good. I know our HRVP rates you from his previous company. But I’ve always used Wilson, you know? How am I gonna explain to him, right?”

“I’m happy to get projects in turn.”

Tom smiled. “You don’t take a hint huh? MF, come on. You’re super pretty. Stylish. Young. There will be lots of customers wanna work with you. You don’t need me.”

“Yes I do. If you give me one project, just one, and I do well, you know it’s a great reference for me. Just one, even if all the others go to Wilson.”

“MF, I did my favor to your family by coming here to lunch. Please don’t ask me to jeopardize my friend by putting our business at risk. I understand it may help you, even one project, but I don’t think this will help me.”

Mary-Felice took a deep breath. She needed a project from him. Just one.

“Excuse me a moment,” she said. “Bathroom.”

In a moment of madness, she went into the cubicle and rolled off her panty-hose and underwear. She undid her bra and took it down her arms. All of it went in her purse. All Mary-Felice had left on was her dress and her heels. The dress buttoned all the way down the front. She undid the top two and bottom two buttons.

Back at the table Mary-Felice sat on the other side of Tom, away from the view of the rest of the restaurant. He noticed the top buttons straight away.

“Why are you sitting there?”

“You want to know what’s in it for you, right?”

Mary-Felice opened one more button at top. The front was loose enough to clearly see her bra-less breast, but she flicked it forward anyway to be certain there was no doubt in her intent.

“Holy shit MF. Are you serious?”

She didn’t say anything. She simply undid the four remaining buttons. Pulling the sides apart she discretely turned to him and opened her legs.

“Fuck me,” Tom said, staggered. “You are fucking pristine. What a fucking body!”

Her tits were incredible. Her pussy was divine. Her thighs were devourable. 27 years old and perfect.

“One deal,” Mary-Felice asked.

“One deal for what? Not just for looking I hope?”

“Of course not,” Mary-Felice said uncertainly. She had actually hoped it would be enough.

Tom reached out and gripped a breast.

“Wow. That’s tight. How’s your cunt?”

He reached down to touch. Mary-Felice jumped, but steeled herself to keep her legs open. She leaned back to let his finger in. Deeper and deeper he went. Keeping an eye out for anyone noticing, he rolled his digit around her insides. Mary-Felice closed her eyes. She was beginning to leak juices into his palm. Tom pulled out and held the mess up to the light. Smiling and nodding, he put his finger to Mary-Felice’s lips. She opened her mouth and sucked his finger and hand clean.

“Not too bad. Okay. Do your buttons back up. Come to my flat in the city tomorrow before lunch. Eleven o’clock. My PA will tee it up. If you’re not on the pill, bring condoms. And don’t plan to be in the office for the rest of the day. If you can fuck as good as you look, I’ll give you the next project.”

Shaking, Mary-Felice buttoned up. She had never done such a thing in her life. She took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She moved back to her seat to finish her meal in a daze. She had his business. She had no doubt Tom would be true to his word. But, goodness, he was going to fuck her for it. Actually fuck her.

For forty-five more minutes Tom was relaxed and open about genuine work issues. They talked about home and their distant connections to family and friends. He seemed unconcerned she had a steady boyfriend, asking about how they met, their first sex, where they had visited, if they planned to get married?

“I look forward to tomorrow,” he smiled warmly when they parted. Stepping in to hold her, he put his hand up the back of her dress to hold her bare ass. “I’m glad my godfather suggested this lunch. I had no idea you would be so...easy. It’s going to be fun working together.”

“It will,” Mary-Felice forced a smile in return. “I look forward to...”

She didn’t know what to say either.

“...having my cock in you?” Tom teased. His hand moved down between her legs, the tips of his fingers reaching inside her cunt. “Oh, I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

“That will be nice,” she found herself say.

“Okay, thanks for lunch.”

After he left, Mary-Felice slumped back to the table, shaking. She could smell her pussy on the air. Tom didn’t even pay for the meal.

Back in her office, Vicki her researcher could tell she was unsettled. Vicki and her had worked together for three years, coming across as a pair earlier in the year.

“Why you look so bad?” she asked.

“I’m okay. It’s all good,” Mary-Felice tried to play.

“No you’re not. What’s up? Lunch didn’t go well?”

“Went too well.”

Vicki frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“He wants to give me a project.”

“Okay...and that’s...bad? Good?”

“The ‘briefing’ is in his apartment tomorrow morning at 11.”

“A briefing?”

“Just us two.”

“Ummm. What’s that mean, exactly?”

“It means,” Mary-Felipe whispered, “I’m meant to take my clothes off. In return, I get a project.”

“Bullshit! He said that?” Vicki squealed as quietly as she could. “What did you say?”

“I said I would do it.”

“Holy fucking shit, MF! Way to go! What about Brandon? You guys are serious, no?”

“You can’t tell him. You can never tell him. He can never know.”

“So you’re going to go? You’re gonna drop your pants?” Vicki said, amazed.

“We need the business, right? If I get Tom Gu as a reference, it’s worth gold.”

“And you’re willing to get fucked for it?”

“Not one can ever know Vicki, you have to promise me. No one.”

“Fine. Fine. But I’m amazed you even agreed to this. This is not your thing at all.”

“I know. It just happened. I don’t know why. I was desperate I guess.”

“And you’re going to go through with it?”

“We need the business.”

----------

I am a waiter. A courier. A barman. A taxi driver. A cleaner. A lifeguard. I move around so no one pegs me as a guy that has influence in their life. I pay taxes and parking tickets. I’m clean. Everywhere. Big brother only bashes down the nails that stick their head up.

I learned a long time ago that what I do can be dangerous. Two nasty incidents stick with me, reminders that I need to take great care in what I do. The first was the Post Office Guy. I found a post office without cameras. It was safer than getting money from a bank, even if there was less to take. At the counter the guy calmly took a big envelope, filled it with all the cash nearby and handed it to me. Nothing said, no fuss. Out I walked with $1,138. Easy money. About three days later I saw a small slot on the news, he was being investigated for the theft. Following up in the paper I saw he lost his job. His kids were vilified at school. He was deregistered from one of the local charities he helped and now all that charity’s source of funds was being investigated. It was a fucking nightmare.

“I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible.”

I can’t remember who said that line originally, but it wasn’t a joke in this case. It took me months to fix the mess. Every time I tried; some other thing would go wrong. In the end I had them drop the charity investigation and the guy got a job as a trainee manager at a department store chain. Less money, but better prospects. I couldn’t fix it all though. The family moved to a worse house and kids were put in a worse school. His wife told him she forgave him, even if she didn’t quite know why. Every time I think of the guy, it’s a stabbing reminder of the ramifications of being selfish.

The other incident could have been even worse.

Megan X. She was a couple of years younger than me at high school. She was the poster-child for high school beauty. Long wavy hair, smiling, happy, popular, best at sports, best at study, body to die for. You know who I’m talking about. Every school has one. We hardly knew each other but she felt compelled to invite me to her eighteenth birthday party. It wasn’t me that got everyone drunk, they did that themselves. But it was me that took Megan’s hand somewhere between midnight and one and led her upstairs to the corner bedroom. With a small lamp for light, I lay naked on a single bed and blissfully watched Megan do a long, slow sensual strip. She was so fresh and nervous showing me her gorgeous young tits, pulling her pants down, fingering her clit.

It was the first time she had tasted her own pussy juice. First time she had cock in her mouth. As she sat on me and forced her vagina painfully onto my erection, it was clear it was her first sex, too. She fucked like a whore, though. She screamed in delight as I hickeyed her beautiful tits from below. She rolled her hips and squealed out my name at her first vaginal orgasm. She thanked me as she felt my burning hot semen paste the insides of her cunt. When her friends burst in to see her sucking my cock clean, sperm leaking from her pussy lips, Megan smiled and told them how great it was to finally be fucked senseless. They left, disgusted. Remember, I can only concentrate on one a person at a time.

Megan was wonderful that night. As long as I could get hard, she put my cock in some part of her body. We kissed fiercely. She told me over and over how much she loved me. She begged me to fuck her brains out. It was the most self-centered, greedy, thoughtless night of my life; and it was unadulterated bliss. That girl was a sexual monster. So beautiful. So soft and fresh. Best fuck of my young life.

You can imagine what happened the next day.

Her parents came into the room at 7am with Megan on top, sliding her achingly sore pussy up and down my semi-hard cock. That didn’t go well, the family are religious and Megan was supposedly saving her virginity. They were demanding she get off me, but Megan kept fucking. She told them how good her cunt felt full of cock, how great it felt to have her tits sucked, and told them to go away. They were stunned. They literally dragged her out of the room.

I was called the devil. For a time, I considered the possibility. But I don’t think so. I’m too localized. The devil should be universal, right?

After my night with her, Megan had all sorts of troubles. Her parents wouldn’t let her get rid of the baby. The secret op she had was dangerous, it was lucky she came away unharmed, albeit no longer pregnant. The split it caused with her family was awful. In a twist she threw herself back at me, coming to my apartment unannounced a number of times to sleep with me. It had nothing to do with my persuasion. She came over entirely on her own volition, given her home life had become miserable. She took solace in having sex with me. I may have occasionally helped her along to orgasm, but entirely for her own enjoyment. I was careful not to cum in her vagina again. I saved that for her mouth.

It wasn’t a healthy situation. In the end Megan literally broke down. Her nerves were shot, her parents took her away from home and away from me. From what I heard through friends it took a year for Megan to regain her balance, trust and self-respect.

I’m older now. Not old, but older. Using my persuasion for uncontrolled, night-long self-gratification is something I no longer do. There are consequences to being selfish. Megan and the Post Office Guy are my guiding memories.

—————

Bob and Sue, known by their friends as The Monosyllables for ‘short’, were in Thailand. They were in Ao Nang, convinced by three other mid-20s couples to join them in an adventure overseas. The Monosyllables usually didn’t have adventures. Particularly Sue. She was a gorgeous girl that was constantly chased by boys at high school. It made her shy and self-conscious. Sue just wanted to be left alone, she had no interest in the messy things boys wanted.

Even at home with Bob, the sweetest guy in the world, Sue kept decorum. Pajamas, locking the bathroom door, changing in the dark. Sue was entirely uncomfortable with being nude, and with the messiness of her vagina when it got wet. The only saving grace for Bob was her unusual obsession with the taste of semen. Sue loved guys cumming in her mouth. It had started as a defense against having to undress with boyfriends. If she gave blow jobs and swallowed, more often than not she could keep her pants on. Over time she learned to love it. For an ordinary looking guy with an ordinary looking body, it was a delightful compromise. His gorgeous wife kept her body to herself, but carried his sperm in her stomach most days.

“Sue. Honey. Please. I know how you feel about these things, and you know I don’t usually push you,” Bob moaned in their room in Ao Nang. “But we’re in Thailand. It’s hot. No one else is wearing stuff like that. It’s weird.”

“I’m not going out there to parade myself to a bunch of ogling guys.” Sue wasn’t angry, just resolute.

“At least a normal one piece? Not even a bikini. Just a normal regular one piece?” Bob pleaded.

“I brought this. It’s what I use at home. I’m not wasting money on something I’m only gonna wear once.”

They were staying at a private villa, cheap when split eight ways. They had their own pool, but all the others wanted to dash straight to the beach. A snorkeling boat had been hastily organized. Every other girlfriend and wife had moderate or sexy swimwear, even the boys wore stylish board shorts. All of them were fit and skinny, they were in their physical prime for a beach holiday. And Sue had a neck to knee to elbows lap-pool suit.

The other couples laughed at her, told her to relax, but she didn’t bat an eyelid. Sue had been labelled a prude since she was a young teen, there was no persuading her otherwise. Not by that lot.

They drove into the main village of Ao Nang in their two rental soft-top Suzuki Sierras. They pulled up on the road along the beach, with no apparent parking meter.

“Six,” the boat operator said. “Only six.”

They drew straws, using strips of palm frond. Sue and Jason missed out.

“We can swap,” Bob offered.

“Hey, this is your thing. Go see your fishes. We’ll find somewhere good for everyone for dinner.”

“Have you got a change of clothes?” Bob pleaded. “You’re not going to walk around in that? Please?”

“Go. I’ll find something.”

“You have money?”

“I have money.”

Sue and Jason waved them off. They knew each other relatively well. Jason and Bob went to college together, he was at their wedding. He’d been at their barbecues, cards nights, though Sue had never really spoken with him a lot one on one.

“Coffee first?” Jason asked.

“Yes, great.”

The two of them sat and talked for the first time properly. He was there with his girlfriend Sheryl; they’d been together eight months. She was gorgeous pretty, but I’m-definitely-not-going-to-marry-her, Jason assured Sue.

“Then why stay together? If you know she’s not the one, why stay?” Sue asked.

Jason blushed.

“Well, you know, there are things...she does well.”

“Oh,” Sue laughed. “I see.”

“Same with you?” Jason asked cheekily.

“Same what?”

“Bob. You stay with him because of his skill in the sack?”

Sue laughed. “Hardly!”

The two of them got on well. When they finished, they wandered the shops like a couple.

“Can we get you something to wear? You look like you’re a dive instructor walking around in that.”

“Okay, Okay! All you people complaining about my swimwear.”

“Try this,” he said, holding out a bikini.

Sue surprised herself and took it. Something about the location made her feel more comfortable than she usually would. There was a change room. Jason held her bag.

“Are you done? Show me,” he yelled over the door.

Sue stepped out. She couldn’t remember ever having worn a bikini in her life. This one was floral, not too sexy. It had a padded top.

“You look hot, but not sure about the bikini,” Jason frowned. He went off and came back with a plain pink string bikini. “Try this.”

Sue took it and changed. When she came out, he was grinning.

“Wow. Turn around.”

Sue did a spin.

“I don’t like the color,” she complained.

“Yeah, could still do better.” He turned to the store-lady. “Have you got one like this, but no padding on top. And T-back. You have something? In white maybe?”

The lady came back with some choices. With no other customers in the store, Jason pulled the tie at the back of her top. Sue grasped her front and walked into the change room with the new choices.

“Wow, you look hot,” Jason nodded, spinning her as she came out. The back was all skin, her ass completely uncovered. Her nipples showed clearly through the white material. “What do you think?”

“You can see my breasts through this.”