The Commander

But if I am going to be a douche bag, I'm going in style. "And there's more," I promised Fiona. She was still triangulating the emotional vectors of my last compliment, and was lost for words, so I pressed on. "You get to suck me again."

"Wha ..." she breathed weakly.

I repositioned myself on my knees beside her on the couch. "Lie down on your side, facing me" I ordered. She did as she was told – a legacy from the real Jet, no doubt. I moved sideways so I was aligned directly in front of her face. Jet's cock was still impressively rock hard. I edged the tip of the ten inch cock to her lips, and said "Give me another blow job."

Five years ago, when I began to have inklings about mind transfer, if you had told me that, when I jump another guy's body, it results in the peculiar side effect of the ability to have multiple orgasms (for the guy), I would have laughed you out of the room. I can't explain any part of it – everything I have read about the male orgasm is there is this dark time called a refractory period in which a male cannot achieve a second orgasm after a previous orgasm. And yet, without fail, I have found that every time I jump another man, the host's body magically becomes multi-orgasmic.

Fiona looked at me with distrust and miscomprehension. He mouth remained closed. I was taking her somewhere, and I needed her to follow. "I mean it – suck me now." Resignation and contempt washed aside the wonder in her eyes as she opened her mouth and accepted Jet's rigid penis. "Just like last time," Jet ordered, but it was not going to be just like last time. I was making sure of that.

Once Fiona resigned herself to administering another blowjob, she began sucking and stroking, just like before. Except this time I was kneeling in front of her face. As her tempo stabilized, I reached her pussy with my right hand, and started massaging the outer folds of her upper labia, directly over her clitoris. I have done this so many times with so many different girls – my technique is foolproof. Soon I heard tiny Fiona moans keeping time with my massage strokes, which I synchronized to her sucking rhythm. As I sensed her excitement growing, I pressed harder and sped up the stroke rate on her pussy, which drove her closer to an impending climax. Subconsciously Fiona matched her sucking pace to my faster massage strokes, which edged me closer to my own happy place. On each suck stroke Fiona moaned as the pressure in her loins mounted exponentially. Soon I felt Jet's balls starting to roil, and I knew I was close. I accelerated my pussy stroking pace way too fast for Fiona's sucking to match. Her individual moans on each such stroke now melded into one long, hard moan that increased in pitch and loudness as she drew helplessly closer to exploding.

Jet was reaching the point of no return – I increased the pressure of Jet's hand on Fiona's labia even more, and increased my massaging frequency to a quivering fibrillation.

My timing was perfect – we detonated simultaneously. I felt waves and waves of jism explode out of Jet's massive member. Fiona burst into a non-stop moan. The perfect storm was too much for her to manage, so she gave up sucking. I withdrew and unloaded Jet's creampie all over her face. I jammed Jet's fingers savagely into Fiona's pussy. The sustained overpressure on her clit unleashed new waves of ecstatic pleasure and pain that started Fiona screaming. She snapped her head back in orgasmic abandonment while the rest of her body convulsed uncontrollably. Jet's fire hose was still pumping precious bodily fluid all over her face. At last her screaming gave way to one long sucking in sound of a low, monstrous breath so loud that the windows rattled.

When it was over, I was still kneeling over Fiona. I looked down, and saw her face thickly glazed in Jet's cum. How he produces so much seminal fluid in one ejaculation is beyond all reason. Her convulsions ended, now replaced by roaming spasmodic aftershocks – first her hip, then her calf, then her arm, and so on. I collapsed beside Fiona on the sofa, with my head at her feet. We lay there silently.

"Oh my God!" she yelled after about two minutes of recovery. Her voice was panicked.

"What is it?" I asked genuinely.

She sat up running her fingers over her cum smothered face. "I am so sorry! ... I am S O R R Y!" she yelled. In her eyes I saw more than panic – I saw real fear. Something terrified her.

"What?!"

"Please!" she pleaded with me. "I didn't mean it ... PLEASE!!." By now she was sobbing. I had no idea what was happening – Jet's disconnected memories were no help.

Fiona was desperately afraid of some punishment. She was beyond panicked – it became obvious to me that there was no reasoning with her. She would never hear a soft approach, so I adopted what I thought Jet might do.

"FIONA!" I barked sharply. She stopped talking and looked at me with crazed wide eyes, like cornered animal looks when it realizes it has nothing left to lose. "What are you talking about!" I accosted her sternly, hoping that would get through.

"It was a mistake – I promise, oh God – I promise it will never happen again."

"Fiona, I'm going to slap you if you don't tell me what you're talking about." That got her attention.

"Your cum. I didn't swallow it all. I spilled so much of it. I honestly didn't mean to. Please don't hurt me. I made a mistake."

It all fell into place. All of a sudden I hated Jet. I hated this rich kid, privileged asshole that needs to cut other people down just so he can feel better. God damned it – the guy has looks, money, a cock the size of Florida, and fantastic girlfriend, but that's not enough. He has to demean her just to get his own kicks. So now who's the douche bag?

When you jump someone else's body, there are liberties you are willing to take because, well, it's not your body. And so I did the one thing that seemed to make the most sense. I sat up face-to-face with Fiona and held the sides of her head steady between Jet's firm hands. Fiona shook with terror and dreaded anticipation.

I stuck Jet's tongue out and licked a huge swath of his own jism off her cheek. Then I French kissed Fiona, letting our tongues play with the snowball together. Finally, I pulled back, looked directly into Fiona's eyes, and overdramatized a hard swallow of the cum still in my mouth.

Her jaw actually slacked open. She was speechless. I leaned forward to whisper in her ear "When I make you cum like you're gonna die tonight, you can do anything you want with my spunk." Fiona involuntarily barked out a monosyllabic laugh of reprieve. Her relief was palpable. "Why don't you go clean up," I offered.

When she returned from the bathroom, we lay down on the couch again – she on her back, me beside her. I played with her tits and nipples for ten minutes – squeezing, sucking, rubbing. Jet's cock started to stir at this activity, so I slid my hand down her tummy to her pussy. Fiona indulged me by parting her legs, letting me finger her after-drenched pussy. I slid one finger in easily, and then a second. I started to slowly pump my fingers in and out, and I felt Fiona rocking her hips in sympathy with my strokes. I withdrew the sopping wet fingers and touched them to Fiona's lips. She took Jet's fingers into her mouth and hungrily sucked them dry of her own pussy juices.

Jet's cock rocketed back to high alert, but his memory links in this regard were useless to me. I didn't know what kind of protection they used, so I let Fiona take the lead. I rolled onto my back. "Climb on top and take a ride," I offered. Without hesitating, Fiona silently rose up and straddled Jet's pole, and slowly lowered herself, engulfing half of Jet's hardened cock with her warm, wet pussy. She couldn't sit directly onto Jet's hips without skewering herself, so Fiona leaned forward, letting the front of her pelvis take the weight, and then Fiona started pumping her hips.

Her long blond wavy hair brushed my face lightly while I played with her tits that swayed in rhythm to her pelvic rocking. Her pussy was unbelievably tight. I quickly realized that this wouldn't take long, so I reached around with Jet's right hand and located her rose bud with his middle finger, and pushed in. Jet's left hand remained free to play with those spectacular breasts. Fiona gasped at the welcomed anal play, and she started grinding her hips against mine earnestly. I used the leverage of Jet's finger in her ass to pull her pelvis down into my hips, further amplifying her pleasure. To my surprise, I could see Fiona was getting ready to cum – that had taken almost no time at all. When I sensed her orgasm was about to explode, I drove my middle finger deeper into her anus and started thrusting Jet's cock in and out of that divine pussy. Fiona arched her back upwards, which had the accidental effect of driving her pussy down hard on my cock – she let out a yelp as Jet's cock rammed hard into her cervix before she bent forward again to relieve the pressure. Jet's balls were ready to boil over, so I thrusted faster, building toward my third climax with this goddess of pleasure. I tried counting this time – 23 ejaculation contractions. The man was a machine.

A few moments after we settled down, Fiona dismounted Jet's fire pole, and I watched gobs of Jet's cum drain out of her pussy. "Suck me clean," I asked, and Fiona complied eagerly. She deep throated all Jet's ten inches, and slowly withdrew, all the time keeping a tight seal with her lips against Jet's shaft. We lay down quietly again, this time she drew her fingernail lightly over Jet's chest, tracing lazy figure eights. After a while of cozy time, I suggested that, since she likes anal play so much, maybe she would like me to fuck her in the ass.

"I'd like to try that sometime," she confirmed. When I asked her if she had lube, she said that she did.

"Go get it," I told her.

"What!" She knew exactly where I was taking this, but it was too incredulous.

"Seriously, go get the lube now."

She returned with a tube of K-Y. I told her to lubricate her own asshole, which she did, still eyeing me suspiciously. Jet's cock had settled down, so I asked Fiona to charge it back up. She sucked me until the spark returned to the veteran soldier, and then for good measure she alternatingly deep throated and sucked me for a few more minutes. Jet's cock was back on active duty again, so I told her to stand facing the sofa, and then kneel on the edge of the cushions with her knees spread wide apart. Finally, I told her to bend over at the waist, exposing her pretty little rose bud.

I covered Jet's piston with a light application of K-Y (it works better when you lube both), and then I stood behind the awaiting Fiona and aimed for her rose bud. With one gentle push I buried just the tip of Jet's cock into her ass – Fiona grunted, but then asked me to keep going. I gently rocked back and forth, each time allowing the shaft to penetrate her asshole a little bit more, until at last I felt Jet's pelvis contact Fiona's ass cheeks. I slowly drew all the way back (but not right out) and then all the way in a few times, just to make sure Fiona's rectum could handle the full 10 inches.

When all seemed ready, I started pumping Jet's cock in and out of Fiona's ass. Fiona grunted in delight on each pump. I reached forward and grabbed her hips like handles, and now I started thrusting hard. I heard Jet's pelvis smack into Fiona's ass on each thrust. Fiona's grunts morphed into an "Oh!" on each thrust. I sped up and slowed down to regulate the orgasmic temperature of Jet's balls. I wanted to make this one last as long as I could. When I slowed too much, Fiona begged me to fuck her harder, so I slammed hard into her ass a few times, making her shriek on each thrust. At last I could feel Jet's balls ready to unload into one more of Fiona's orifices for the fourth time today. I slammed my cock as deep into her anus as it could go, pulling her hips into Jet's while wave after wave of liquid seed filled Fiona's rectum.

I stood there for maybe a minute more with Jet's recovering cock still buried deep in Fiona's ass. Finally I pulled out. I was spent.

We both needed a shower. I let Fiona go first while I planned my next move. While she showered I found Jet's laptop – a Mac Book Pro with a built-in camera and microphone – perfect. Thankfully Jet didn't password protect it. I packed it up in a carrying case.

Fiona came out from her shower dressed in a very short night gown. There was no way she could bend down to pick anything up without exposing her gorgeous ass. I am guessing she conforms to Jet's dress code – not a bad idea for play time. I suspected his dress code went beyond play, which is also okay in a D&S scene, but this dynamic seemed quite different than your garden variety dominant and submissive roles. Something darker started appearing in my links to Jet's memories.

I was formulating a plan. After my shower, I dressed Jet in his jeans and a clean white shirt. I chose white for maximum effect. I told Fiona that I (Jet) had to go out to run an errand, and I would be back in an hour.

"I want you to do something very important for me," I told Fiona. "As soon as I get home again, I want you to make sure I read my email. It is really important that you make me read my email." Fiona seemed perplexed at such a stupid sounding request, but if the past few hours meant anything, she realized Jet was full of surprises today.

"Okay," she said. "I'll make sure you read your email."

With that, I stepped to the door. Jet would be back, but I planned never to see Fiona again. I stopped and looked at her one last time, keeping a mental picture of her standing in that skimpy night dress. I saw a black leather jacket hanging in the closet – it looked Jet's size. I took it with me as I left the condo.

I walked Jet to my car, parked nearby, and drove home, entering through the double alarmed garage door. Still as Jet, I walked downstairs to my workshop and retrieved what I was looking for, and then to my bathroom. I set up Jet's Mac Book in the dining room where there was a blank wall behind me – no identifying features. I prepared in my mind what I was going to do, then I sat down in front of the Mac Book, and started a video recording myself – that is, I controlled Jet video recording himself.

"Hi Jet. It's me, Jet. If anyone is watching this with you, ask them to leave. You must view this video in private." I paused for a few seconds, giving Jet time to hit the stop button on his playback app.

"First of all, I am Jet only on the outside. On the inside, you can call me The Commander. That's my name – The Commander. The Commander lives inside you, Jet. You know this is true, because you have no memory of what happened in the three hours before he sent this email to you on your own account using your own laptop. You have no idea how all this happened. That's because The Commander took over. When The Commander takes over, you disappear. Gone. And no one else knows. Even Fiona doesn't know about The Commander.

"Speaking of Fiona, that is really why The Commander decided to come out and show himself to you today. Fiona had a very special evening tonight. She is going to want to talk to you about it. And when she does, you will be sensitive to her needs, respectful of her rights, and accommodating to her desires. This is not a request, Jet. I am telling you, that is how you are going to be.

"You see, Jet, The Commander is Fiona's protector. From now on, when you are thinking about doing something to Fiona, think about The Commander before you act. Ask yourself "What would The Commander think?" Because if you continue abusing her, disrespecting her, and demeaning her the way you do, well, Jet, you and The Commander are going to have a big problem. And Jet, when The Commander says a big problem, The Commander is talking about life and death. Your life and death.

"So this is how it works. If you are kind, honest, and respectful towards Fiona, then The Commander stays away. But if you continue treating Fiona like shit, well Jet, this is just the beginning. Just like Santa Claus, The Commander sees everything you do. But unlike Santa Claus, Jet, The Commander is real. I trust today's demonstration removes any doubts you might harbor about The Commanders authenticity and resolve.

"The Commander knows you're a smart guy. The Commander trusts there is no need to drive the message home any harder after tonight's demonstration. Let's just say we are agreed on that."

I put Jet's left hand palm down on the dining room table in view of the camera, spreading his fingers out wide. Next I reached out of the camera frame with my right hand, brought the 28 ounce framing hammer from my workshop into view. Without further warning, I drew the hammer high above my head in my right hand and smashed Jet's left baby finger three times with three full power overhead swings. The pain was excruciating, but I tried to hide any expression of it on my face. I looked straight into the camera, kept my voice as even as possible.

"Remember, Jet, this is just the beginning. May the Lord have mercy upon your soul if The Commander deems it necessary to teach you a second lesson.

"Oh, and one more thing, Jet. If you tell anyone – I mean anyone – Fiona, a shrink, your mommy – anyone – about The Commander, you're fucking dead that instant."

I switched off the camera.

I may have misjudged the effects of the pain, because somebody was about to pass out. I couldn't tell if it was Jet or me, but we were getting dizzy. I held Jet's pulverized baby finger with my right hand, and bent forward on the chair, putting my head between my knees and took long, deep breaths. The dizziness passed after a minute. When I was certain I could stand up, I braced myself against the table, and opened the first aid kit I had earlier retrieved from the bathroom.

I splinted Jet's forth finger to his baby finger and wrapped up his hand in a sterile bandage. The fingernail had come right off. The baby finger looked broken in at least two places. Satisfied my first aid treatment would let Jet survive the evening, I played out the rest of my plan.

In 30 minutes time, if anyone was paying attention, Jet would be seen walking into a Starbucks wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. He didn't order a coffee. He spoke to no one. Jet's zipped up leather jacket concealed the blood stained white shirt he was wearing. His left hand was bandaged and he and carried a satchel in his right hand. Anyone watching him would witness Jet sit down at a small round table, pull his Mac Book computer out of his satchel, connect to the Starbucks WiFi, and send himself an email with a video file attachment using his own email account. Then they would witness Jet picking up the laptop, leaving the Starbucks by foot, walking down the street for two blocks, then turning out of sight onto a side street, where he entered into the passenger door of someone else's parked car. What's the likelihood anyone ever piecing any part of that together – especially considering Jet was not at the controls of his own body, nor was he capable of remembering anything about the incident?

The real me drove Jet to a corner near his condo, out of sight of the front door. I put Jet in skip mode, and made him step out of my car with his computer case, and walk over to a nearby bus stop, and sit on the bench. Anyone watching would observe an ordinary man in a black leather jacket waiting for a bus late one night. Then they would observe the driver of the car also get out of the car, hand something to the seated man, and then return to his car and drive off. Even an alert observer would never have given the scene a second look. And absolutely no one would have noticed the completed mind transfer back to my own body.