It was a mildly rainy Friday in early April when he executed his plan. Sarah had returned home from work a little after 7 p.m. Henry knew from reading her mind at a coffee shop earlier in the afternoon she had no plans for the weekend. She had taken an armful of papers home with her to work on and nobody would expect her until Monday.
The rain was a happy accident. Lessened visibility and the ability to carry an umbrella made Henry feel secure that nobody saw him as he walked to her doorstep. He rang her doorbell and when she opened the door it was to speak to him through a small crack, the door’s chain firmly in place.
“Yes?” she asked.
Henry saw her lovely green eyes and caught a hint of her perfume wafting through the opening. He smiled. “Hello,” he said, genuine warmth in his voice. “Please, do not be concerned.”
“Okay,” she said. “Who are you?”
“Please, do not speak. Everything is fine. Just take the chain off the door and open it all the way.” Sarah shut the door and Henry heard her sliding the chain off. She opened it again and stood silently.
His clients often asked if he got jaded from it, got sick of seeing gorgeous women. Henry always replied the same: he fancied himself a connoisseur of women, and just as anyone with a passion for art never tires of seeing works of great beauty, so he never stopped relishing the women he “worked” with.
The creature standing before him was one of the most wonderful he had seen in some time. That was partly because he picked her himself and for the last year he had done only custom jobs. Even of the spec work he had picked in the past, though, Henry felt she was one of the best.
Even wearing only a gray T-shirt and sweatpants, Henry found her stunning. She was barefoot and stood five feet and nine inches tall with golden-brown skin that betrayed an exotic parent or grandparent somewhere within her mostly-Caucasian family. Her light auburn hair was pulled into a pony tail and reached down to the small of her back. Her figure was flawless, with generous breasts and a small waist.
“Please,” he said, “step outside and be quiet. Good, now shut and lock the door. Good. Continue being quiet and follow me, if you will. Everything is fine.”
They walked to his car together as Henry tried in vain to keep them both dry with his umbrella. The black luxury sedan-he had thought it a bit of a cliché when he bought it, but he decided ultimately to look the part all the way-was parked out front. Like a gentleman, Henry opened the front passenger door.
“Please get in,” he said. She did and he closed the door. He walked around to the car’s trunk, opened it, took out a few dry towels, and got into the driver’s seat. Henry handed her a towel and told her to dry herself off. “No sense in getting the leather seats wet,” he said with a wink.
She was complying, which Henry was glad for, but her face was twisted into a strange expression that was equal parts confusion, anger and sadness. He sighed. It was going to be a long weekend. Henry could handle challenges, even liked them, but was always a little terrified that something could go horribly wrong.
“Please listen to me very carefully. You are very tired. Every muscle in your body is exhausted. You are more worn out than you have ever been from lack of sleep or excess of exercise. It is the deepest sort of exhaustion you have ever known. You can feel your entire body falling into a deep slumber, one that will last until I wake you.”
Sarah looked as though she wanted to speak, her lips twitched and her eyelashes fluttered. She did not fall asleep. Henry put a hand on each of her cheeks and fixed her face looking straight at him.
“You are strong, but so tired. There is no reason to resist, nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. Let yourself sleep. You are so very, very tired. Relax and let your worries fade away.” Henry spoke quickly but clearly, each sound enunciated with a practiced diction. The years he spent with speech coaches paid off as he spoke with a rhythmic quality. Her eyelids were all but closed.
“Sleep now, precious girl,” he said and he felt her entire body go limp. He gently lowered her head onto the seat’s headrest and snapped her seatbelt into place. Henry put the keys into the ignition, started the engine, and began driving through the rain.
* * *
It was nearly 9:30 the same night when Henry woke her. He had paid
for a room and returned to the driver’s seat where he put a hand on her
thigh. He could feel the warmth of her leg through the thin cotton pants
she wore. He whispered into her ear. “My dear Sarah, it is time to wake
up a little bit. You are still very tired, but you can stand and walk a
bit. You are too tired to speak or scream or make any noise at all, and
you cannot run or move quickly at all.”
He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze and her eyelids opened a bit. She opened her mouth as if to speak but no sound came out. He head rolled lazily along the headrest. Henry moved quickly now, getting out of the car and opening her door. He undid her seatbelt and helped her out of the car. The rain had let up and the air tasted clean and damp. “Please lean on me,” he said. “You can barely walk on your own.”
Sarah put an arm around his shoulders and he put one around her waist. “Walk with me. We are going to room 235, which is on the first floor despite its number. It is not far.” Despite being only several hundred paces from the parking lot, it took the two a few minutes to get there as Henry had to practically drag her most of the way. If anyone saw them, Henry figured they would assume she was drunk or high out of her mind. Both were likely common occurrences at this motel.
With a bit of difficulty Henry was able to unlock the door and help her to the bed inside. The room was sparse. A queen-sized bed, a lamp, a stuffed chair, a television with a broken remote control and a closet with sliding mirrored doors were its contents. A small bathroom was off to the far side of the room. Henry’s large traveling bag, which he had unloaded before waking Sarah, sat at the foot of the bed. He had already closed the blinds and turned on the light. Henry locked the door’s deadbolt. He pulled the chair around to face the bed and sat down.
Henry took a moment to pause and regain his strength. His subject barely had an ounce of body fat on her-he would hardly have selected her otherwise-but he was a slight man and she was about as tall as he was, and in better shape. Carrying her through the parking lot had not been easy. He marveled at her as she lay on the bed. Always he had the urge to ravish them immediately, but he was a man who believed in self-discipline above everything else. It was the only reason he was still alive or out of jail, he reminded himself.
“You will please wake up now, Sarah,” Henry said after a while. “But you still cannot talk.” Sarah rubbed her eyes and sat up and Henry spoke quickly. “You cannot get off the bed, either. You are glued to it.”
Her eyes were wide and frightened and her mouth moved silently. She was fighting an internal battle, he could tell. Reaching out with his mind, he could tell her thoughts were a jumble, all mixed up by the fear that dominated her mind. Good, he thought. Fear was always better than anger.
“My lovely Sarah, please do not be afraid.” As he said it she relaxed, but not entirely. “My name is Henry Eckerson and I mean you no harm. Please, trust me and regard me as a friend.”
Again, he felt the commands sink in, but only partly. He became a little worried. Commands that affected a person’s deeply-held beliefs were never as effective as simple orders, but his orders were affecting her much less than normal. Some people were just easier to control than others and his biggest fear was running into somebody he could not eventually fix. It was a risk he ran in his line of work, and he resolved to double his efforts. He could not exactly stop now. If she was this difficult to control then wiping her memory might not even be possible, so there was no going back.
“I am sure that you have questions for me. Because of that, you will be able to speak as soon as I touch your knee. You will not be able to talk loudly though, and screaming will be completely impossible. You will be able to talk only so that I can hear and you will be unable to try and communicate with anyone outside this room. Please nod if you understand.”
She nodded so he touched her knee. “What are you doing to me?” she asked immediately. Her voice was quiet, breathy and helpless. He felt the familiar thrill, the charge he always received from having a woman under his thrall.
“I am controlling your mind, Sarah. I thought you would have figured it out.”
“What? How?”
“I do not think I will share that with you yet. Perhaps if you are good.”
“Wh-what are you going to do with me?”
Henry could not help but smile a bit. He loved his work. “I am going to change you,” he said, emphasizing slightly the word “change.” “I am going to make you different. I am going to make you better. And then I am going to sell you for a lot of money.”
She tried to scream at him but could not, so she spit in his face instead. “Calm down, please!” he said, taken aback by the outburst. Henry had been trying to instill fear into her and had accidentally triggered anger. It was much too early for him to properly deal with anger.
“You are calming down, becoming less angry. You will please not take any hostile actions against me at all. Let me repeat: no hostility against me. I will let that slide,” he said as he wiped his face off with the silk handkerchief he kept in the pocket of his trousers. “But know in the future there is punishment for that sort of behavior. Cooperation brings pleasure and reward. Hostility brings pain and punishment.”
Sarah felt herself calming at his words, her anger subsiding. That he could have that sort of control over her was terrifying. She blinked back tears.
“You need to understand the helplessness of the situation,” Henry said. “We are alone for the weekend. Nobody will miss you, no, do not even try to claim otherwise. We both know it is true. By Monday, you will be a willing participant in your abduction and you will happily explain your disappearance to friends and family.”
Henry stood up and leaned over Sarah to whisper into her ear. “Does that scare you? Knowing that you will help me? Your own body will betray over the course of the weekend, and by its end your mind will betray you as well.” He put his hand on her thigh again and caressed her lightly. “Just know that you will like it and your new life will bring you considerable pleasure.”
He could feel a fire raging within her mind, but the command against hostile actions held and she just sat there as he ran his fingertips up her thigh and between her legs. Henry sat back down. “So that you understand what is going to happen, know that my commands do not last forever. I can give you orders to do or not do simple tasks, but making changes, making permanent changes, is much harder. That requires conditioning and your cooperation.”
Her anger did not subside, but the raging fire became an bed of hot coals as Sarah collected her thoughts. Amid the rage, Henry felt a spark of hope at his last words. She could resist him, she thought, and foil the changes. He was happy for that, as he planned to use that very belief against her. It was a dangerous game that Henry played, as hope was a double-edged sword that had the power to cut him as surely as it did her. Still, his method was faster than most others, and he felt in the end it was more effective than drugs or a month of nonstop mental bombardment.
“You can’t do this,” Sarah said, weakly.
Henry groaned at the line. Why did they all say it? “I suppose we shall see about that, shall we not?” He moved over to his suitcase and opened it. He pulled out a thin cardboard box from an upscale clothing store and handed it to her. “It is time for your first task,” he said. “Please take this box into the bathroom. You will then disrobe entirely, open the box, and put on its contents. You will make no escape attempts, please.”
“Fuck you,” she said as she stood up. Sarah walked to the bathroom and
shut the door behind her.
Henry Eckerson was not his real name but he had used it exclusively for such a long time he often forgot that. He was called Hank early in life, and did not start calling himself Henry until he had been away from home a few years. The last name and the slight English accent he adopted later. He grew up in the American Midwest, but rarely told anyone that. He had been popular as a child and a teenager, who got into a lot of trouble but was always able to talk himself out of it. Despite being small and mildly effeminate, women liked him and he liked them.
His upbringing had failed to make much of a moral imprint on him. His family went to church and he was understood morality as an abstract concept, but it had no practical meaning to him. No man or woman could ever bring themselves to punish Hank when he did wrong, and it left him with the sense that he could simply do what he wanted, which in a sense was completely accurate.
Things accelerated when he hit puberty. Hank lost his virginity at 13 and sex became the driving force in his life. It obliterated everything else from his mind and it was all he wanted. He had scores of women in those early teenage years and it was pursuit of more that led him to drop out of school and abandon his hometown at 16.
He found himself more and more persuasive, which at first he attributed to his keen sense of empathy that helped him understand what others were feeling. Eventually, he realized it was something more and it became his new obsession. He went without sex for two years as he tried to hone his powers. The discipline Henry prided himself on was more a result of his obsessive nature than anything else. He was able to control his lust for women only by supplanting it with a greater obsession: understanding mind control.
Sarah was changing. The bathroom door was shut but Henry was keeping a close watch on her thoughts as he sat in a chair in the run-down motel. He hated using these places, but proper hotels asked for identification and had security cameras and attentive staffs. He was not willing to risk anyone remembering his or her face should something go wrong over the weekend.
She stopped changing. Her top and bra were off, but she had won a small mental struggle by stopping her hands from pulling down her sweatpants. Henry could feel her sense of triumph as she plotted her next move.
“Sarah,” he said, his tone changed from before. Where he had earlier been polite and even gentle, Henry was now forceful and demanding. “Take off all of your pants. Now.”
Fear again clouded her mind. Her hands moved quickly, pulling the pants off in a flash.
“Good,” he said. “Now your underwear.” She took off the simple cotton panties and stood naked and trembling. Her clothes were in a heap at her feet and the clothing box Henry had given her was sitting on the closed toilet. “Open the box.”
She picked up the box, which bore the name of an upscale clothing store. Opening it, she realized immediately the clothes inside were not purchased at that store. It was a little joke of Henry’s that served to amuse him and keep the women off guard.
“Put on the garter belt and stockings first,” he commanded through the closed door. Sarah had warn lingerie many times before and her fingers knew what to do. The garter belt was black as were the fishnet stockings. She attached them sort of half-heartedly. “No, Sarah. Put them on and make them look good.”
A little surprised that he could tell exactly what she was doing, Sarah straightened out the stockings. “Put on the underwear, please.” She picked up the tiny g-string, slipped it on, adjusted it. It was silk or a synthetic that felt like it, mostly see-through in the front. The red underwear contrasted with the black garter and stockings.
Not willing to give her another chance to resist just yet, Henry continued to command her step-by-step. “The skirt.” It was brief and black and very tight. Sarah wasn’t surprised. It ended a few inches above her knees.
“Time for the top,” Henry said. The top was a mockery of a sweater. Its sleeves were full-length but the rest was not. It was soft and fluffy but would barely cover her large breasts. Sarah was determined not to wear it. She stood there frozen, the flimsy fabric held limp in her hands. She willed herself not to move.
Henry savored the resistance. She was very strong-willed and again he was surprised. He knew when he picked her that she was smart and independent, living alone after college and working long hours as a junior executive at a film studio. She had gone to a good school and worked hard studying business and when she graduated she had the recommendations and internships to land a prized job. He had picked her because of her independence and drive-the long hours and little social life made her a good target.
Still he was not about to tolerate this sort of behavior just now. Henry was tired and obviously the effectiveness of his commands was declining. It happened. “My lovely little slut, it seems as though we are going to have to move beyond simple commands,” he said.
“Go to hell,” she said through the door, her courage gathering. Sarah was able to drop the mini-sweater and was now looking around the bathroom for something to use as a weapon. She could feel the commands weakening, control over her body returning.
“If I am going to hell, you are going somewhere else,” he said. “Somewhere cold. In fact, you are getting very, very cold.”
As he said it, she could feel it becoming true. It had been cold standing topless in the bathroom, but now it was freezing. She crossed her arms and rubbed them close to her body.
“It is so cold it is all you can think about,” Henry said. He was speaking slowly now, methodically, each word leaden with intent. “If you do not get warm soon, who knows what will happen? You want to be warm, do you not?”
“Yes,” she stammered through chattering teeth.
“Good. The sweater at your feet is warm. It is very, very warm. If you were to put it on, you too would be warm.”
She picked up the sweater. Henry was right and she almost slipped it on before she rebelled again. No, she thought weakly, if I put it on he wins. I am not really cold, I am not really cold, she repeated in her head.
“Oh, you are very cold, Sarah. Very cold indeed. And the sweater is so nice and warm. As you hold it, feel its warmth against your skin. It will warm you up.” His voice smooth now, almost melodious. It enchanted her.
Sarah rubbed the dark gray sweater against her face. It was so warm. It would feel good to slip it on, only for a moment. Just a moment to get warm, she thought. That wouldn’t be giving in, if she took it off immediately afterward.
As soon as Henry knew the sweater was on, he shifted demeanors once more. He was commanding again. “Open the door and walk out of the bathroom.”
Before she had a chance to react Sarah was standing before him. He was sitting in the chair again, his neck turned to look at her. His eyes roamed up and down her body, admiring the abs she had worked so hard for. The sweater left her entire midriff exposed and he ate it up. “The shoes, please,” he said.
In front of her was a pair of red, stiletto-heeled pumps. Slut shoes, she thought. Henry, reading her thoughts, made a mental note to use the phrase later. Tired from the last resistance, Sarah put the shoes on. The heels were an even six inches and she could barely stand in them. “Turn around slowly,” he said, making a circular motion with his right index finger.
The outfit was a mockery of business attire. She was dressed like a secretary or businesswoman from a porno flick. Her breasts jutted out from the tiny top. The shoes and stockings made her legs look perfect and the little skirt rode up slightly as she wobbled. Any concerns Henry had about the weekend vanished when he saw her. Playing dress-up was useful for the conditioning, he knew, but mainly he used it because he liked to indulge his fetishes.
He gestured to the bed. “Sit down.” She did so and instinctively crossed her legs. Henry admired the view and he felt a wave of revulsion coming from her mind as she watched him watch her. She crossed her arms.
Henry shook his head. “Lean back and support yourself by placing your hands behind you, palms down on the bed.”
Sarah complied and the pose caused her chest to stick out even more. The pose was positively lurid, both of them thought. Henry smiled a toothy grin, his perfectly polished teeth almost glinting in the dim light of the room. Sarah thought the teeth looked razor sharp.
Once again his voice was gentle and polite. “Now tell me, please, for
how long have you been a giant slut?”
Sarah Kent was always nervous at interviews. She had been to dozens in her lifetime, starting when she was looking for a university during high school. Since then, she had interviewed for internships and full-time jobs at some of the nation’s top companies, but never once was she not nervous. She prided herself on being able to hide that nervousness, but it was there always, needling at her.
Her friends were never able to fully understand her seeming lack of confidence. She was smart and beautiful, they’d say, and look at all she had accomplished. She should be, if not cocky and arrogant, at least completely self-assured. What Sarah was not able to tell them was the epiphany she had as a teenager.
Smart enough to be truly introspective, at 16 Sarah realized something about herself. After being dumped by a boyfriend she had undergone a serious bout of depression. She contemplated suicide and even had a bottle of sleeping pills she planned to take but decided against. She felt so weak and vulnerable during that time. Her friends and parents tried to counsel her in their usual way, but by telling her she had no reason to be depressed, Sarah’s depression worsened.
The day after her darkest moment-the day after she had bought the pills-she finally understood why she felt so terrible about herself. Sarah felt that way because it motivated her. She was able to keep herself looking perfect and getting straight As because she was so terrified that she was only average. At that point she decided not to fight her insecurity, but to really use it in order to achieve great things.
It had carried her through to college and to this, the latest in a string of job interviews. It was for a job similar to her current one, but it paid more. She realized the interviewer was waiting for a response and she had missed the question, lost in her own thoughts.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” she asked.
The interviewer was a small man with dark hair slicked back. He wore a nice shirt and tie and his jacket was hanging from the door of the motel room where they were holding the interview. “Certainly, Sarah,” he said. “You do not mind if I call you Sarah instead of Ms. Kent, do you?”
She smiled and shook her head.
“Good,” Henry said. “We are fairly informal here. The question I asked, Sarah, was if you are very motivated. We need somebody here who is very self-confident and able to be a leader.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, Mr. Eckerson,” she started.
“Please, call me Henry.”
“Of course, Henry. Yes I am very driven. I think you will see from my resume that I have led teams in the past and in college I was the head of several successful projects.”
“That is good, Sarah.” He looked at her and she shuddered. His steel blue eyes seemed to see right through her. “Because I was afraid that deep down, you might be nothing more than a scared little girl.”
His words were delivered without emotion and they had a sharp edge of dispassionate cruelty that cut her deeply. “That’s, that’s not true.”
Henry stood up and he seemed to dominate the room. She was still on the bed, leaning backwards. He towered over her as he brought his face less than a breath from hers. “I think it is, Sarah. I think you are a terrified little girl who could never be capable of leading others.” Drinking in her fear, he snatched something from her mind. “In fact, I think the only reason anyone would ever hire you is for your body.”
It was a deep fear of the young woman. She was naturally attractive, but being gorgeous took work and she did it. Nights at the gym, time spent each morning on her hair and makeup, eating properly. All of it was so she could look her best. She liked being gorgeous and didn’t always mind the looks from men-it hinged largely on which man in particular was doing the looking-and she had told herself that a woman could be both smart and beautiful without a contradiction. But she worried that nobody saw anything but a pair of tits and a nice ass.
“I’m very accomplished,” she said.
“Maybe in the sack.” Henry sat down again. “Tell me how much of a slut you are.”
This was not normal interviewing procedure, Sarah realized. She tried to think but her head felt stuffed full of cotton. The compulsion to answer was extraordinary. “I’m not a slut.”
Henry rolled his eyes. “Then why are you dressed like one? Why the microskirt and slut shoes?”
Sarah looked down at herself and as she brought her hands up fell backwards onto the bed. When had she dressed like this? Something was wrong, she thought, and then he was on top of her.
“You are a slut,” he said. “Which is why you are wearing this outfit. And it is why you are becoming aroused right now.” The commands he had given her earlier had held. At his touch, her skin became flushed and her breathing a little more shallow. His hand was between her legs, up the skirt and teasing her through her soft panties. She moaned slightly.
“Do you often dress up like this for your boyfriends?” he asked.
“Sometimes...” Sarah trailed off. Thinking was difficult-oh! One of Henry’s finger’s had slipped beneath the underwear.
“Do you have a boyfriend now?”
“No...”
“Why not?”
“I’m, oh, oh, I’m busy.”
“Busy doing what? Picking up guys at bars?”
“No, busy work-ah!” He slipped a finger inside of her.
He ran his tongue up and down her earlobe as he whispered. “Have you been fucked lately?”
“A couple of weeks ago,” she said.
“I thought you did not have a boyfriend.”
“We just went out a few times. Oh, that feels so good.”
“I know it does, my little fuckdoll,” Henry said. Something in his voice made her twinge a bit. He nibbled her neck and she forgot about it. “You fucked a man you had only just met? That sounds like something a slut would do.”
“I’m not...”
“Oh yes you are. Sluts have sex with strange men, do they not?”
She was so turned on, but something was equally wrong. “Wait, stop.”
He shook his head. “If you answer me, I will let you come. Obedience is pleasure. Sluts fuck strange men, do they not?”
She nodded. “And you fucked a man you just met?”
A nod again. “Why? Because you like sex? You like getting laid?”
“Of course.”
“Sounds like you are a slut to me. Tell me, do you like giving head?”
“Sometimes,” she panted.
“Do you want to go down on me?”
Sarah thought about it. She didn’t like this man who was on top of her, but he liked the way he rubbed her clit with his thumb. “No...”
“If you give me a blowjob, I will let you come,” he said.
Though she was more aroused than she had ever been, Sarah’s head was clearing. Henry knew the fantasy world he had built for her about the job interview was wearing off. She knew had to fight this strange man. “No.”
“Stay still,” he said. He knelt before the before and buried his face in her lap. Physically perfect in every regard, she was shaved except for a small trimmed patch. He savored her scent and moved her underwear to the side with his hand. She was quite wet and Henry loved her taste as he began licking her, running his tongue up and down her folds. Slowly at first, then with more speed and force. He penetrated her with his tongue, then sucked gently on her clit as he massaged it with her tongue.
“You cannot come no matter how turned on you are until you give me a blowjob,” he said before returning to work.
Sarah laid there in ecstasy. Henry was an expert at everything he did, and cunnlingus was something he took a special pride in. As the minutes ticked by she felt her orgasm building but not coming. It was maddening.
“If you want to come, give me a blowjob,” he said again and she leaped up. He stood up and she undid his trousers quickly. He sat in the chair as she grabbed his erect member and popped it in her mouth.
Sarah bobbed up and down on him quickly. “Slow down,” he said. “I will only repay the favor if you make me come. And, as someone who has had my share of blowjobs, I must say that your fellatio technique leaves a lot to be desired.”
The direct command penetrated her fogged mind and she slowed. She took her time, swirling her tongue around his head and up and down and his shaft. She tickled his balls with a hand and he breathed deeply. She was a vision, dressed in the tiny business outfit as she knelt on the floor. He reached down and cupped her tits, hard, enjoying their feel through the fabric of the sweater. She moaned.
When he was at the brink of orgasm, he told her to stop for a moment. He stood up and had her remove the little sweater. He got his first look at her naked breasts and it took his breath away for a moment. He stood still in his shirt and tie, his pants around his ankles and his boxer shorts still on.
“Realize what you are doing, Sarah,” he said. “But do not get any less turned on.”
And like that much of the fog in Sarah’s mind lifted. She was not a job applicant but a victim of kidnapping and something not far from rape. “You bastard,” she said between breaths.
Henry smiled. “Our deal stands. If you want to reach orgasm, you will jerk me off and I will come all over your magnificent tits.”
She shook her head. “No, you pervert.”
“Did I mention that with each passing second you become even more and more aroused?”
Unlike the bathroom, when she had been able to hold out for minutes over his command that she become colder, she gave in instantly. She was so aroused to begin with she couldn’t take much more. Hating herself, she reached a perfectly manicured hand up to his shaft and began pumping.
“Ah, yes, that is quite nice,” he said. “Be sure and stick out your chest.”
A few more minutes and he tensed up, steadying himself on her shoulders. He came violently. Her chest was covered in his seed.
“Lick it up,” he said. It was a direct command and so she obeyed. He delighted in watching her use her fingers and tongue in such a way that she was obviously repulsed by.
When she had finished she spoke. “We had a deal.”
Henry smiled his toothy smile. “I am a man of my word, dear Sarah. You may get yourself off with your hand.”
She immediately reached inside her panties, using her fingers expertly.
“Oh, one more thing,” he said. “You will come only after you have said the phrase ‘Obedience is pleasure,’ three times.”
Sarah glared at him and he just smiled back. She seemed as about to cry. “Obedience is pleasure,” she said and she felt herself getting closer. “Obedience is pleasure,” her breathing ragged, the breaths coming faster and faster. “Obedience is pleasure-ohhhhh!”
She came screaming and Henry remembered the commands against shouting had likely lost their hold. It was midnight and he was mentally exhausted. “Get undressed and into bed,” he told Sarah, and he helped her with both tasks. She was tired and compliant and slipped naked into the sheets.
“You are going to sleep now,” he said into her ear. “But first let me
tell you about the dreams you will have.”
Sarah tugged down the hem of her uniform. She didn't mind its riding up from any sense of modesty, but it made it difficult to work if she were completely exposed. The crotchless panties she had to wear for work were so sexy and nice but also provided her with no protection. The slightest draft would distract her terribly and send a hand wandering up her skirt for a few minutes. Her Master was nice about letting her touch herself, but only once her work was done.
Her Master was good enough to let her work as his personal maid. He had rescued her from a life that was surprisingly hard to remember, but it was obviously a bad one. Now she spent all of her time in his mansion, dressed in a tiny maid's uniform. The skirt exposed ballooned out from her body, riding atop a sea of silky ruffles. It was short enough to expose the top of her silk stockings. The black uniform hugged her body and barely cupped her breasts, pushing them up and outward. If she bent over even slightly her breasts were mostly exposed. The uniform was topped off with delicate white gloves, a frilly maid's hat and spike-heeled shoes.
Sarah loved dressing like a slut for her master. She loved to turn him on by bending over so he could get a look at her tits or ass. If she got him horny enough, he'd often make her suck his cock or fuck him. Master always gave her the best orgasms.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice him walking up behind her. "Excuse me," he said. His voice filled her with warmth that felt like being wrapped in softest velvet. "Why aren't you cleaning?"
Busted. She turned around and stared meekly at the ground with her hands behind her back. For some reason she could never look directly at him and his face was a mystery to her. She thought she should be able to remember what he looked like. She said nothing, so he spoke. "I see. You know the punishment. Turn around and grip the couch."
Sarah did as she was told, bending over far enough that her ass was higher than her head. She knew she was entirely exposed to him, and she started to get wet thinking about it. "Why were you remiss in your duties?" he asked.
Still she said nothing and so he spanked her, hard, with an open palm. Even though she knew it was coming she cried out a bit. "I was thinking about you, Master," she said. "About how much I love being your slut."
"I know you love being my slut," he growled, "but that hardly comes before your duties, does it?"
"Of course not, Master!" She shouted the last word as he slapped her again. The spankings stung, but the pain was mostly pleasure. "Your pleasure is always first!"
He reached his hand down to feel her left calf. He began running it up her stocking-covered leg. "Very good. And where does your pleasure come from?"
"Obedience is pleasure, Master," she said as she had so many times before. His hand was at the very top of her leg, in the fold between her pelvis and upper thigh. She was so wet she knew he could feel her slickness there as her juices ran down her body.
She heard him unzip his pants, slowly. Sarah longed to look back, to turn around and see his erect cock, to grab it and pleasure him. But she had been ordered to grip the couch and bend down and she dared not disobey a command from her Master.
"A punishment is in order," he said. She felt something cold press against her hips and she heard a tearing sound. She realized she had felt the flat side of a small blade. He was cutting the waistband of her panties. "You will not have any underwear for a week."
"Yes, Master."
"Your master is pleased with your obedient tone," he said. "Now you shall have a reward." She felt him enter her forcefully and she nearly came right then from the sudden sensation.
"Oh, Master, that's so good," she screamed. Sarah gripped the couch as hard as she could, lost in the sensations of his cock thrusting in and out of her. Her orgasm was building and she could tell her Master's was as well by the way his thrusts were speeding up. Suddenly he pulled out and she made a small cry.
"I'm not so sure I should fuck you," he said. "You were awfully naughty."
"Please," she begged. She was so horny she couldn't think beyond single syllables. "Fuck me."
Still standing right behind the bent-over girl, her Master snaked a hand around her front. His hand cupped her sex and he slid a finger inside and out again. He spread her lips with his index and ring fingers and let his middle finger slowly slide up to find her clit, which he rubbed. She pressed backwards against him, wiggling against him.
"Fuck me," she said again. "Up my ass." He stepped back from her and she took her hands off the couch and used them to spread her cheeks. She wobbled a little bit, still bent over in her heels but without the couch for support. She then took a hand back, licked a finger and slid it in and out of her anus, hoping to entice him. "I know you like it."
"I don't know," he said. "Tell me why I should."
"I will be so good," Sarah panted. "I will be so good for you, such a good little slutslave. I will do everything you say and I will be sexy for you and I will never disobey and..." Her voice trailed off as her breathing became heavy.
Her Master pushed up against her again and she gripped the couch once
more. His cock was still slick from being inside her but still it went
into her tight asshole so slowly. And then he was in and her mind exploded
with pleasure. It was the pleasure she knew so well, the pleasure of servitude
and obedience and her master's cock deep insider her.
Henry made a trip to his car when he woke the next morning. He hated leaving his charge alone but it couldn't be helped. He needed food and he needed it badly. He had passed out the night before, shortly after putting Sarah to sleep. He slept for almost 12 hours, the mental exhaustion having completely overwhelmed him. Fearing her resistance, he had constructed an awfully detailed dream for her, but it had taken the last bit of his energy.
Dreams were a necessary part of his long-term conditioning process. The beauty of dreams is that the dreamer is almost entirely defenseless. While dreaming, your own mind often creates a new past and present for you and it rarely revolts at the changes. In her dream, Sarah was already a slave who loved her life. Those feelings were the ones Henry hoped to instill in her permanently. He was counting on the remembered pleasure of the dream to help him with it.
Henry had learned about the power of dreams early. He had tried to make permanent changes to one of his first conquests after the two-years of celibacy he spent honing his powers. She was just barely an adult, a high school senior at a local school Henry saw one day in a mall.
He had taken her back to his apartment and fucked her silly, of course. Then he really got into her head while she slept next to him. Her name was Jessica and she was a nice girl with a bright future and he had fixed that.
Thinking about that bothered him now, on many levels. One was the crudeness of his methods. Henry had read her mind as she slept and he whispered dreams for her to have, dreams in which she was a slut and a whore and a stripper, in which she dressed like a porn star and fucked whatever moved. They spent a day like that, Henry acting as a tour guide through an increasingly twisted version of her mind in which she loved her new life.
Then he let Jessica go. He followed her, pleased that his initial suggestions worked. She stopped going to school, she blew all her money on trashy clothes and trashier lingerie. He watched her blow a stranger behind a grocery store for $10 while he masturbated and came thinking about how much control he had.
But after about a week things stopped working the way they were supposed to. Jessica started resisting. When Henry would check in he could easily nudge her back on track, but one day when he walked into her house - he always walked in unannounced and simply made himself unseen by her family members - he found her spilling her guts to her family, telling them she had been abducted and describing what Henry looked like.
Henry panicked, projected strongly that they all forget everything, and fled. He left the country even, spent some time in Europe. That was where he met Sergei and learned he was not alone in his powers and particular tastes.
Another thing that bothered him about the whole Jessica incident was how senseless it had been. There was no reason to alter her that way, no reason to turn Little Miss Wholesome into Little Miss Whore. Altering others just for the heck of it was classless, Henry eventually decided. If he saw somebody he wanted, sure, sometimes on an impulse he'd enjoy a weekend of her servitude now and again. But nothing permanent unless there was an end goal.
He set the cardboard box he retrieved from his car on the floor next to his suitcase and shut and locked the motel room door. From inside the box he withdrew a liter of water and several energy bars. He consumed them, glad to feel his strength returning. Henry would have liked a proper breakfast, but he was not about to leave the motel for an extended period of time. His commands for her to sleep were strong, but they would not last forever.
Feeling closer to himself once more, he sat down on the bed next to Sarah. Henry had slept naked next to her the whole night, but he had been so exhausted he didn't have a chance to appreciate it. In the late morning light that streamed through the edges of the window she looked as lovely as ever sleeping peacefully.
He took his clothes off again and laid down next to her. He rolled her onto her back and ran a hand across her chest, admiring the feel of her firm tits. They were natural D-cups, something he appreciated. One of the nice things about carefully picking a subject was that she could match exactly what he wanted.
Henry squeezed one of her breasts and flicked his tongue over her nipple. She tasted a little saltier than he expected and he wondered if perhaps she had not cleaned herself off properly from last night's fun. She would learn, he thought. He rolled on his side and put a hand between her legs. Sarah squeezed her thighs together and moaned softly and he smiled. He glanced into her mind.
And he was immediately shocked by what he found. She was begging her dream-master to fuck her anally. He had not told her to do that! Most interesting, he thought. He wandered a bit inside her head, careful now not to disturb anything. He was simply gathering data for later. He then whispered to her to wake up slowly, telling her again that she was not to make any loud noises or attempts to harm him or to escape. Finally, he told her to wake up.
Sarah came to slowly, shaking her head in an attempt to clear the mental fog that had been so prevalent in sleep. She rolled over, saw Henry smiling at her and recoiled. Pushing his hands away from her she stood up quickly, covering herself with a sheet. "You bastard," she said. She found herself again unable to speak above a hush.
Henry's smile only broadened. "Did you have pleasant dreams, my dear Sarah?" he asked, the tone of his voice as real as artificial sweetener.
Her mind recoiled as it half-remembered the dreams she had all night. She realized she was wet once again for reasons beyond her control.
"You always get wet for reasons beyond your control," Henry said. If she wasn't going to talk out loud, he'd respond to what she was saying in her mind. "That's why my method is so effective, you know. Conscious decisions are difficult to control, but automatic responses are simple. I can manipulate your senses, your motor functions, even your arousal much easier than I can your actual thoughts. I get to talk to your brain on a deeper level than you're even aware exists. In time, the conscious mind follows."
"No," Sarah said. Mustering up a bit of courage, she was able to put a touch of defiance in her voice. "No, it won't."
"It always does. My method is based around basic laws of behavior. The mind is a system that seeks to maximize pleasure and happiness. All I have to do is change what makes you happy and you do the rest."
"You're wrong. I would never be happy as a slave."
"What about last night?" he asked. "What about your dreams?"
The memory of her dreams both terrified and aroused her. "That was fake. And even if I," Sarah fumbled for the exact words, "even if I liked some of the sensations, that wasn't happiness."
"Tsk-tsk. You're making the same mistake everyone does. There is no difference between the two."
Engaged in an actual conversation for the first time since her abduction, Sarah's mind came to life. She was smart, a woman who had always done well in philosophy courses in school. "Pleasure is temporary," she said. "Happiness is about something more. And humans can deny ourselves pleasure to achieve happiness."
Henry laughed. "Humans can deny themselves small pleasures for short periods of time, but if something is pleasurable enough and a person is deprived of it long enough, he or she will give in. As you will find out."
Sensing he was wrapping up the conversation, Sarah changed topics. "So, what? You're gonna rewire me and sell me off as a whore?"
"Hardly. My business is not about that. There is an unending supply of beautiful women who willingly become prostitutes."
"Some sort of mindless sex slave then?"
"Not exactly that, either," Henry said. "The men I sell to are extremely wealthy. They are capable of getting laid without my assistance. No, what they want is companionship without all the demands a companion places on them. I picked you because you are intelligent and would be a good wife, capable of running a household for some wealthy gentleman. You will be, in fact, the perfect wife; drop-dead gorgeous and always accommodating of any request and never complaining about a thing."
"That's sick."
Henry chuckled a bit. "Perhaps so. But we cannot chat all day, no matter how much you may wish. We have a busy agenda!"
"Wait," she said. "One more question. Why would you do all of this? If you can control minds there must be easier ways to make money."
"Oh, of course there are. But none of them are nearly as much fun."
Like the rest of him, Henry's member was of no particular note. It was about average size, as far as Sarah could tell, and while she had been with bigger men most that she dated were about his size. She wasn't particularly creeped out by male genitalia, either. It was what he was saying, what he had been repeating for the past few minutes, that made her look upwards.
"Every time you see a cock, you will become aroused," he said. "Every time you see a cock, you will become aroused." He repeated it over and over, drilling it into her mind as he pushed it with his powers. Sarah half-thought she could feel the words being burned into her brain, could almost hear a sizzling sound as of a hot brand being placed on cattle.
"I think that is enough of that command the moment," he said. "Now, I want you to use that lather you have been working up to clean me off. Every last bit of me below the neck needs to be washed." As she started rubbing his chest, he spoke again. "Every last bit. And be sure to look at whatever it is you are washing."
Her eyeballs swirled to look at his chest of their own accord. Just below, she could see his erection. Sarah began to feel the command affecting her. She became a little flushed, even more than she already was from the heat of the shower.
"Keep washing," Henry said, irritated that she was still scrubbing his chest. Her hands moved lower, to his abdomen and then she stopped.
"Turn around. I need to do your back."
"No. You will have to reach around."
Sarah stepped even closer to Henry. She could feel his erection now, rubbing up against her leg. The bar of soap in one hand, she practically hugged him in order to reach his back. Once she had finished his back she wanted to stop, but her hands kept going lower, washing her captor's ass.
"I need you to wash every nook and cranny, my little sexdoll," he said.
Sarah grimaced as she moved the bar of soap in and out of the crack of his ass. She daintily ran a few fingers in and out, as she lacked a washcloth. Henry nibbled her ear as she did so.
"That's very nice," he said. "Please do my cock now. I want you to take your time, there. Pretend that I am your boyfriend and you are giving me the best erotic washing you can."
Sarah did as she was ordered. She worked up some more lather with the soap and set the bar down on the side of the shower. She put her hands diametrically opposed on Henry's shaft and worked her way up from the base of his cock to its head and back down again. She took one hand and teased his balls with her fingers while with the other she made a partial fist and rhythmically pumped. The whole time her eyes were riveted on his erection and she felt herself getting more and more turned on despite her best efforts to think of other things. She tried to concentrate on how terrible her plight was, in an effort to control her arousal, but it was no use.
"That is very good, Sarah," Henry said. "You have quite experienced hands. Much better than your mouth."
"I hate you," she said through gritted teeth.
"Not for much longer. I want you to do something. From now on, you will respond to my commands with 'Yes, Master.'"
Concentrating hard, she was able to say nothing.
Henry shook his head. "So forceful." Suddenly he gripped her by her shoulders and stared into her eyes. She was forced to keep staring at his cock, trying to keep massaging him even though her shoulders were pinned back. In the top of her vision she could see his eyes, and they seemed to glow a fiery orange for a brief instant. "CALL ME MASTER!"
The quickness of it all—the grab, the flashing eyes, the shout—completely caught her off-guard. "Yes, Master," she said sheepishly.
He let her go and went back to enjoying her ministrations. "Good. Obedience is pleasure, Sarah. You deserve a reward."
Sarah felt him staring at her and then she felt a sensation rising deep within her. It was pure pleasure washing over here; almost, but not quite, orgasmic. Her toes curled. She felt the way she did just after an orgasm, her body bathed in that post-coital glow. It felt good, but unlike an orgasm it released none of her arousal, which was continuing to grow the longer she looked at him.
"You have made me quite worked up," Henry said to her after a while. "I would quite like to come in your mouth."
She prepared to fight his mental command, stiffened her knees, but she did not feel it. Her body simply did not react to his voice.
Sensing her confusion, he spoke again. "That was not an order, exactly. At least not of the kind I have been giving you. You do not have to suck me off. Sooner or later I will come in your hands. But you would be rewarded for using your mouth."
Sarah just grimaced again and started masturbating him faster. Her arousal kept growing, but she was determined to stop this from becoming a repeat of last night. She was sure she could resist this time.
"I do not play entirely fair," Henry said. "I forgot to mention to you that there is a great emptiness within you. I see that you can feel it forming." Her eyes were widening, even as drops of water from the showerhead splashed her face. "Yes, it is terrible, is it not? An emptiness that is frightening. It will devour you, make you into nothing. You can fill it only with my cock down your throat and my seed in your belly."
"No, no, no," Sarah whimpered. "You bastard. Please stop."
"Only you can make it stop now, Sarah. And for calling me a bad name, it is now spreading twice as fast."
She tried her best to fight it, but she soon gave into the terror that was filling her body. She dropped to her knees.
"Good," Henry said. She felt better, though not entirely, as soon as she was on her knees. She even felt a small wave of pleasure.
She opened her mouth and guided his head into it. The soap had long ago washed away from it, and Henry tasted clean. Sarah tentatively swirled her tongue around his knob and felt another bit of pleasure overcome her. She moaned slightly.
"Good," he said again. "Now all the way."
Thoughts filled her mind. She was lost for a moment as they rushed in, a million little pornographic images and sensations of blowing various men. Licking, kissing, sucking, deepthroating an endless stream of rigid cocks. She suddenly knew little secrets, how not to let her teeth drag, how to use her tongue, what to do with her hands while she sucked a man to climax. In a moment she had gone from a girl who had slept with only a handful of men to a woman who could give head like the world's top prostitute.
"A gift to you, my slave," Henry said, emphasizing the last word. She thought suddenly of a dream she had once, of being called that by somebody. For some reason it made her hornier. "After all," he continued, "you find it very enjoyable to go down on men."
Deep within her mind, Sarah tried to reconcile the feelings she was experiencing. She felt the void that was still present in the back of her head, a scary emptiness. She also felt those small waves of pleasure washing down her body. God, it felt so good. She kept getting hornier and hornier, which was becoming distracting. It was so easy to just lose herself in it, give in to the pleasure and the arousal and just suck for all she was worth. Faster and faster she bobbed, hoping to bring her Master to climax.
No! That wasn't right at all. Just as she felt him tensing, she regained some clarity. This was her captor, not her master. Then she felt him come, his member pulsating and throbbing, emptying into her mouth. It was warm and gooey and filled her mouth.
"Swallow like a good slave," he told her, and she did. She had never done that for her boyfriends and she found it particularly revolting now. But the first swallow did fill the hole within her mind and she was able to focus. As he continued to spurt a little, she pushed him away from her and spit the rest out. The shower washed it away. Henry looked a little disappointed.
"You are amazing, Sarah! I will have to redouble my efforts with you. Disobedience comes with a price. I was going to let you come, too, in order to relieve the heat you are surely experiencing. But now I think that will have to wait." He stepped out of the shower.
"Clean yourself off. When you are done, there is a small shaving kit on the counter. You will shave your underarms, legs and pubic hair completely. After that, today's clothes are in a box on the floor. You will put them on, then use the makeup and toiletries I have also provided to make yourself as attractive as possible. I want you to apply the makeup liberally and wear your hair up." He paused for a moment, finding the right words. "I want you to make yourself look like a whore. A very elegant whore, but a whore nonetheless."