tagMind ControlToymaker Ch. 02

Toymaker Ch. 02


I'm frankly amazed I got away with that. The entire experiment had been bullshit from beginning to end -- the premise, the experiment format, and of course the conclusion -- but Majorie had bought it all

I saw Majorie again three days later. I called her, and told her to come over, right then and there, and hung up.

She did.

I'd left the door ajar, and she peered in... the room was pitch dark. "James...?"

"Come in and close the door."

"This is frightening. You're scary enough, without this..."

"Do it."

She did.

"Find me."

When she got within fifteen feet, I could sense her fear and arousal. I chuckled, softly. Both her fear and arousal went up, and she felt her way towards my voice. I rewarded her with intense hunger, no little taps, just an unrelenting blast. She moaned, softly.

Then her hand fell on my leg. My bare leg. Shaking, it slid upwards, and found my stiff cock. She moaned again, handling it obsessively, and I rewarded her with an image of her bound body, coming.

"Kneel, and press your cheek against my cock. No kissing or licking."

She got down between my bare legs, and rubbed lightly against my hardness, her hands stroking my thighs and balls. She was shaking.

"You frighten me," she whispered. "Did you... hypnotize me, with those videos? I just... burned. And dreamed about it afterwards. And now this..."

I turned on a desk light. It had a dim, 1 watt bulb in it, wrapped in dark cloth. It illuminated her faintly, but didn't shine on me, so she was handling and petting a man she couldn't make out.

"You'll be obedient this evening," I told her. "Completely obedient. Do you understand?"

She looked up, nodded unsteadily, that sweet, innocent face wide-eyed in erotic fear. Unconsciously she arched her shoulders back, lifting her breasts up to my gaze.

"When I snap my fingers, you'll stop whatever you're doing, and remove an article of clothing. You'll throw it behind you, and then go back to what you were doing."

Her breathing increased, and she pressed her lips against my cock; I could feel how she wanted to open her mouth and suck it. She ached to placate the scary man. I didn't have to push on her emotions; she was already smoldering.

I smiled, and snapped my fingers.

She was wearing a blouse, skirt, stockings and heels. She reached back and took the shoes off, kicking them away, and leaned forward, but I snapped my fingers again.

She hesitated, and then got the blouse off, staring into the darkness I was sitting in. Her nipples were hard inside the sheer bra, making sensual peaks.

"I'm going to make you into a slut," I told her. "The more I make you do, the hotter you'll get and the more you'll want my cock. Let me tell you how this ends. You're going to have a long, deep and violent orgasm. During it, I'm going to grab you and fuck you, roughly. You'll have no control over your reactions, none at all. You'll respond as you have never responded before, to every rough pound of my cock. You're too used to men who worship your body and treat you like glass. I'm going to slam my cock into you and use your body like the man-pleasing fucktoy it was meant to be."

Her trembling fear melted into a swirl of intense eroticism, sucking her down, filling her with a need to submit. I didn't put it there; I just watched as her need to become a good and obedient girl grew. Before my ability, I had no idea how fear and submission and eroticism connected in the emotional world of a woman. Women, I learned, love men they can trust, but they don't become fully sexual with a man they aren't a little afraid of.

Another snap, and she peeled the pantyhose off. "Start sucking, slowly," I told her. "With your free hand, stroke yourself. Everywhere but the inside of your thighs and clit. I want you to feel how fuckable you are."

There's no feeling like the emotions of a woman in flames. I could feel her getting addicted to what I was doing to her -- and feel myself getting addicted to her hot, sexy desperation.

Snap. The bra came off. She bent over again, pressing her nipples against my thighs as she brought her mouth to my cock. I pushed into her mind an image of her body being taken from behind by an unknown man, as she sucked me. It set off fireworks in her. She sucked faster, more sensually.

I grabbed her hair and forced her head back. "Now look at me."

She could only barely make out where my face might be, but I had her face lit well enough that I could see the huge, hungry, trembling eyes. I snapped. She stared at me helplessly as the skirt came off, leaving her only in her panties.

"Do you want my cum?"

"Yes," she stammered, still running her hand over her torso.

Stroking her body in front of me had her embarrassed, and I let her welter in that embarrassment for a few seconds. Then I reached forward with a pair of scissors and cut her panties, starting from the waistband, straight down past her slit. They parted like curtains, clung loosely for a few seconds, and then slid awkwardly down her thighs. The feeling of exposure and vulnerability in her, as they parted, had me so erect it hurt.

"Masturbate. Make yourself wet for my cock."

"Oh fuck, please, I-"

"Without discussing it."

She knelt there, in flames, stroking her breasts and rubbing her clit, eyes wandering unsteadily between the darkness around my face, and the dimly lit, erect cock. I rubbed my cock, slowly and lightly, and her eyes settled there, helplessly fascinated. Her lips parted. Her eyes were huge.

"Say it, quietly, over and over: I want your cum."

"Please, that's-"


She swallowed. "I... want your cum." She was bright red, and her nipples were hard cones. She licked her lips.

"Over and over!" I pushed a flash of fear into her, and she moaned, unevenly, and then again, sluttily.

"I want your cum. I want your cum. I want your cum. I want- your cum. I want your cum. I want your cum... I want your cum! Oh fuck this is so wrong! I want your cum. I- want your cum! I want your cum... I want your cum, I want it, I want your cum on me, I want -- oh fuck I'm so wet! I want your cum, I want your cum, I want it so bad, please I want your cum, please, please!... oh fuck please I want your cum!"

"Masturbate faster."

"I want -- oh please! Please! It's so intense!"

I stood up, looming over her, pushing my cock against her face. She sucked my cock, but I pulled her back by the hair. "Keep masturbating, lick my balls, and whisper 'please fuck my pretty, slutty body.'"

She pressed her face up between my legs, whispered it and then started sobbing out "please -- please!- please!-"

I reached into her mind and hammered her with the sluttiest images and urges I could. She licked faster, and then collapsed to the floor, masturbating and writhing. I picked up a vibrator, knelt down and pulled her shaking, shuddering body against mine. I forced the vibrator between her legs, and sucked a nipple deeply into my mouth, and bit down on it, slowly, pinning her on the edge of orgasm as she frantically fingered herself.

When she was convulsing and completely incoherent, I pushed her over the edge, put her on her back, and pushed my swollen cock deep into her. Savagely, I fucked her exploding firework of a body, gripping her by the throat and hip as I pounded. I tried to hold out, but the thrashing of her hips, the shaking of her breasts, the helplessly open mouth, and the unbelievable intensity of her emotion would have made a dead man come. Tears poured from her sightless eyes, as I gushed into her.

When I was done I forced her over the edge again, and gathered her weakly thrashing body against mine, so I could kiss her mouth as she came.


When she had nothing left, I let her go limp. She was sobbing, softly, and it took a moment for me to understand she was speaking.

"Thank you... thank you... thank you..."


Her eyes closed, and I carried her to bed, and tied her, spread eagle, to it. She became vaguely aware of what was happening as I adjusted the knots.

"James? James... no. Please. You made me pass out, what more do you want?"

I stroked her belly, slowly and lightly.

"James... you just came. You can't want more!"

I chuckled. "You did a good job sating my cock, beautiful. But I told you -- I'm going to make you my slut. I'm going to teach you to crave."

"James, please no-"

I kissed her mouth, the kind of slow, soft kiss that stops conversation dead. My lips moved gently over hers, over and over, until she kissed back, and then whimpered because she'd tried to put her arms around me and couldn't. I nibbled her lips, slowly and sensually, and then licked them. Her eyes fluttered closed, and I slipped a hand under her neck and lifted, exposing her throat as her head fell back. I nibbled it, lingering at the hollow of her throat.

"That's... your scheme, is it?" she said dazedly. "Rough fucking, followed by gentle, affectionate teasing? That's- it won't work- You can't... fuck, James, stop, stop, please, I haven't even gotten my breath back..."

I kissed downwards, along the curve of the top of her breast.

"Please, it's... when I'm tied up like this... your mouth... I can't think. You're petting my belly... your lips... please, my nipple aches already and... James, I'm trembling, please just... oh gods, you're going to ... just kiss and stroke me... until you're hard again... and then... fuck, you're relentless.... Did you... did you like the way I came? I was an animal... isn't that what you wanted? Take me rough again... not this gentle, seductive... it's like quicksand... oh! No teeth, no, just suck... oh! Oh no, please, I'm so... no, not there! I can't think when you touch me there!"

I brought my lips to the corner of her mouth, and kissed, slowly, over and over. She closed her eyes and tried to hold still, but bit by bit she turned into the kiss, and kissed me dazedly as my fingertip tracked along her slit, very lightly.

"That's right, Majorie, kiss me. You love to kiss. Over and over and over, don't think, just feel. Give me your soft, pretty lips, feel my finger move a little deeper each time... you're my fucktoy, bound and helpless and wet and ready to give me anything I want. You're going to have another orgasm, when I tell you to. There's nothing you can do to stop it. Kiss me, pretty fuckdoll. Kiss me, beg me for more with your lips and tongue...."

This was hotter than fucking. I didn't have to push on her. I coaxed her body along until she had no resistance left, and was panting, and writhing slowly in her bonds.

I wanted to learn more about her sexuality. I had a very easy way to do it -- I simply had to push images into her mind and feel her responses, one after another.

Two men, touching her. Her urgency soared. Most women, I've learned, liked that one. I made her picture kissing one cock, then another, then back to the first... she licked my lips and began sucking on my tongue, moaning.

I added a woman to the imaginary mix; that did nothing for her. But when the two men turned and grabbed the other woman and team fucked her, Majorie arched and whimpered, grinding her clit against my hand. She loved the male sexual hunger, the animal, amoral lust, and watching it play out on another helpless female drove her wild.

I made her picture walking, naked, blindfolded, to an open window, showing her body to people she couldn't see. She cried out suddenly and tried to bring herself to orgasm against my hand.

Wow. She knew she was beautiful, and if I was going to make guesses, she'd made a habit of concealing and downplaying her body, to avoid the kind of attention that beauty brought. I suspected that, deep down she hated that; she wanted to flaunt herself, make men burn for her. Some women became strippers; others, like her, probably had deep, dark fantasies about it. I smiled. I was going to make her do bad, bad things.

I was hardening again. Her hot, soft kisses, the way her lips flowed against mine, had me throbbing. I speared her suddenly with three fingers, then took my hand away from her.

"Please," she whispered. "I- I think I could come again..."

I picked up the vibrator, turned it on and pressed it against her opening, hard.

"I- oh! Oh fuck, how do you do this to me?"

I slid it up over her clit, and then fingered her roughly. She cried out.

"You're a slut," I told her. "I don't have to make you one. You love this. You love being hot and fuckable and the way I want to plunder you. Don't you."

"Not a slut," she moaned.

I shoved a pillow under her ass and moved between her legs, my cock in hand. The vibrator abused her clit and the head of my cock began tapping, then banging against her slit.

"'Wet, fuckable, helpless slut," I snarled. "Say it!"

She thrashed, her head tossing back and forth, her blonde hair snapping from side to side. "No! Slutty is bad!"

I pushed my hardening cock in, just burying my head inside her, and then did things with the vibrator that she couldn't fight. I pushed with my mind, reveling in the fact that she had no defense against it.

"Wet. Fuckable. Helpless. Slut," I growled again.

"Want to come - fuck I need to come again -- please just take me, this is torture!"

"Wet. Fuckable. Helpless. Slut. Say it!"

I could be as merciless as I liked. My ability made me the cruelest, most intense edge-player ever, and I made the vibrator into a sexual torment she'd never imagined, backing off at the last possible second and then starting again just before the ache started to subside. I rocked my cock against her, not pushing further in, just adding to her torment. She ached to draw me in deeper.

"Wet," she moaned. "Fuckable! Helpless! Oh shit, stop, I can't think!"

I pinned her there with my mind, and did things with the vibrator that would have had her screaming over the edge. Her stomach convulsed in need and her body was a rigid arch in the bonds, but she couldn't come.

"Say it," I said, softly and deeply.

"Slut! Fuck your wet helpless slut! Please, I want to come so bad!"

I turned the vibrator off and shoved it into her mouth, and then I moved my cock inside her, the way I ached to. I slammed her against the edge again and again, and then without warning pushed her over, watching her beautiful, bound, desperate body thrash. I pulled out, pumped myself for a second and came on her as she shuddered.


When I could breathe again, I untied her, and she crawled against me. We fell asleep together, almost instantly.

She was mine, after two dates.


So, you're wondering about guys. Do I mess with them?

Only once, in a sexual way, and it wasn't for my gratification.

It was on the subway, where people sometimes tend to be assholes. It was very crowded, and this guy pushes his way on. Expensive suit, late forties. He pushes past a pregnant woman, steps on a foot -- he's unaware of all this because he's on his cell. "Not less than a mil four," he said, followed by "yeah, fuck that, right? Listen... want to have some fun?... Yeah, sure. But listen. Want to have some fun? Have him do a variance report. That will force him to explain all his deviations from the plan... well, yeah. Of course. It's not fun if no one gets hurt..."

He plants himself in the middle of three women half his age. "Yeah? Who cares? Did I mention a mil four? Fuck that. Make him go for mil six. Call it a stretch goal... he'll fuck it up, and I'm coming in at a mil nine... look, I'll be there in an hour. The damn limo service... right, just stall. Yeah..."

Meanwhile, he's got his cock up hard against the blonde, and he's smiling at the brunette. Neither is impressed. I don't know if he can see the wedding ring on the brunette, but I doubt he cares. All three women are emoting their disdain so loud that I can't shut them out. Then he looks down the brunette's blouse, and smiles at her again.

I've established that I'm no angel. Psychic vampire, mind rapist, call it what you like. I know I'm no one to throw stones. But the river of revulsion in this cabin is spiking, I can't block it all out, and no one can do anything about him because he's not doing anything illegal. In the press of bodies, he can claim the cockrub he's getting isn't his fault. But I don't have to be in his head to know what's up with him. And then he whispers something to the brunette, and she's so revolted she chokes back sudden tears.

I blast him, as hard as I can, with sexual arousal. The way the train is shaking, and as close pressed in and we all are, his fun little bump-the-junk game goes suddenly out of control. He grinds, and then cums uncontrollably a second later.

It's not the sort of thing that's easy to hide, and the blonde woman shrieks in the most magnificently furious outrage I have ever seen. The crowd crushes itself to give her room, and she steps away, and turns to see the guy grappling with the end of sudden orgasm, and a spreading stain on his suit pants. In fury, she points and shrieks "That fucker just came on me!"

"Fuck, blondie-" the guy gasps out, and it probably wasn't the best choice of words he could have made. Nor should he have stepped at that moment towards the blond, even if it was only the movement of the train that caused it. The people around him explode with rage.

I have never felt anything like that. I could literally feel the rage jump from person to person, rippling and growing like a living being. And then suddenly one guy, a little oriental fellow, balls up the rage and puts his fist into the guy's solar plexus, and when Mr Millions crumples over, he whips his fist around and down on the base of his skull. Someone else gets a foot into his knee, and then he's on the floor, oh-so-accidentally kicked in the face by another man. A least ten cell phones are suddenly open. "Press charges," I tell the blond. "Animals like this usually have a record; and you're the only one who can see he gets the cage he deserves. I'm happy to be a witness." She gets five other volunteers immediately.

A nerdy guy four bodies down looks up from his cell. "There's police on call at the next station, and they'll be ready to pick him up. They want us to wait until they take him. They don't want him to get lost in a crowd and run."

"Run?" says the oriental fellow. "If he so much as sits up I'll cave in his ribcage." He leaned over Mr. Millions and hissed, "My daughter was raped by a perv like you."

Five minutes later we were at the station, and I saw him taken away. He wasn't going to make his meeting.

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