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Conversation PiecesThe Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive ·Make a Donation
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<<Previous · Story: Conversation Pieces · Author: Downing Street · Next>>
DISCLAIMER: The following are works of fiction and any resemblance between
characters in these works and actual persons living or dead is entirely
coincidental. These works contain scenes of explicit sex between adults and are
intended for the entertainment of adults only. If you are offended by depictions
of adult intercourse or if you are less than the age of majority in your
jurisdiction please do not read or download this file. Because these are
fantasies, characters in these works engage in unprotected sex in a universe
where AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases do not exist. In reality sex
without protection is unwise and nothing in these works should be taken as
condoning such activity, or any of the other activities depicted herein.
CONVERSATION PIECES
by Downing Street
Comments and suggestions always welcome: dowstreet@yahoo.com.
Story II
Rachel Resigns
"So Rachel, I understand you're thinking of leaving us. After only two weeks.
I'm disappointed."
"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Masters, but this job... it just isn't what I expected."
"Oh? How so? Is the compensation too little?"
"No, the pay's great. Really."
"You don't like the hours? The work is too demanding? You aren't getting
support?"
"No, no, it's nothing like that. The job's fine, really. It's just, the....
atmosphere here is, like, not comfortable.
"Hmmm, perhaps you had better explain. But first, close the door. I don't want
us to be disturbed. Here, have a seat. Now my dear, tell me what is so
unsettling about the office."
"Thank you. Well, all right, if you must know. It's little things, mostly. The
people here are like... just odd."
"Are they unfriendly?"
"No, not at all. They're all friendly. Real friendly. Everybody treats me like a
dear childhood friend, and I've only been here for two weeks. They keep doing
things for me. Buying me lunch, taking me out for drinks, taking me shopping.
It's almost embarrassing."
"Surely you can't be thinking of quitting because the staff are too friendly!"
"Well, that's just the thing. Sometimes they seem more than friendly, like,
almost... I don't know. There's so much touching and hugging all the time, I
wonder if they're... you know. It seems like every time I sit down somebody has
their hand on my thigh."
"Rachel, are you telling me that a few hugs are enough to make you quit your
job?"
"No, no, but there's more than that. Look, to start with, you have what, 12, 15
people working for you, right. And they're all women. Why aren't there any men?
"Well, as a matter of fact, that's deliberate on my part. It turns out that
women prefer this line of work. Men tend to be too... fidgety. They don't have
the patience for the long hours in front of a computer. I find I get better
performance from a female staff."
"Is that legal?"
"Probably not. But somebody would have to complain for the authorities to make
me do something about it. So far, nobody has."
"Well, I just might. I don't think I believe your smug explanation at all.
Besides, I've noticed that all the women in your office are single, childless,
and under the age of 30. And anybody can see they're all lookers. Every single
one of them. It's like, way sexist."
"Oh, does someone feel threatened? Uncomfortable with competition in the beauty
department? Well, you can relax, my dear. Surely you must know you're the
best-looking woman in the entire office, hands down. Even with that cute frown
on your face."
"Mr. Masters! That is quite enough of that! I didn't come in here so you could
leer. Comments on my appearance are unwelcome and, like, inappropriate."
"Yes, of course, of course. I didn't mean to upset you. By the way, that's a
lovely little dress."
"Oh... well, thank you. I like it. A couple of the girls took me out shopping
yesterday, and... Wait a minute! This has nothing to do with anything! I'm
trying to explain to you why I'm quitting."
"Indeed. So far, it seems the staff are too attractive and too friendly. Sounds
like grounds for a lawsuit to me."
"Very funny. Look, the whole office just creeps me out, OK. Like, all those
women are obsessed with their appearance. I swear they spend half their time
primping and the other half shopping. They're like a bunch of boy-crazy
teenagers. Fashion, fitness and fella-- uh, fellas is all they ever talk about."
"Well, be reasonable, Rachel. Young women do tend to be concerned about those
things. You yourself commented that the staff is predominantly young, single
women."
"Yeah but this goes like, way beyond normal. Come on, you must have noticed how
everybody dresses around here. The whole place is like a fashion show run by a
voyeur. I don't think I've ever seen anybody in pants. It's all tight sweaters
and micro-minis and..."
"Speaking of which, that little thing you have on would certainly qualify as a
mini, wouldn't it? I'm enjoying a great view of your lovely thighs, my dear."
"Well, yes... but... this is different. I just bought this yesterday, and, like
I wouldn't dress like this every day. I mean, it's just for... and I shouldn't
have crossed my legs like that. Look, can we please get back on topic?"
"Sorry. I admit I find your legs a very pleasant distraction."
"Oh, thank you. That's sweet -- no, wait. That's wrong. Forget about my legs! We
were talking about this office. You have about a dozen young women working here,
all of them dressed like they're on their way to a fetish club. And all they
seem to care about is their work."
"Rachel, you just said all they care about is clothes and men."
"Well, besides that. They're so devoted to their jobs it's like, creepy. Even
the lowest clerks act like their in love with the company. They gush about it
around the water cooler. They act like it's some sort of great honour to work
here."
"Young lady, there is no shame in being happy with your job. Dedication is a
virtue I value highly. We often have strict deadlines in this line of work."
"Yes, sure, I know, but again, this office is just weird. They're almost
fanatical. They treat it like some higher calling. The other day, in the pub
after work, I asked a bunch of them if they would jump to another job if the pay
were better. Not one of them said yes. They seemed insulted by the suggestion!"
"As I would be. I take good care of my employees and I see nothing wrong in the
fact that they appreciate it. That's why I am so disappointed that you have
chosen to leave us."
"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Masters but this place is just too strange. The level of
commitment of these women is -- look, I popped in on the weekend, just to tidy
up a few things. Can you believe almost half the staff was here? They were all
bopping around, working on their projects and stuff, like it was Tuesday
afternoon instead of Saturday morning. Everybody was as happy as can be. They
were all dressed in the same wild, sexy stuff they wear during the week. Or
maybe even less. I mean --"
"Rachel, really. You accuse my staff of excess dedication, as if there could be
such a thing. Yet weren't you coming to work on Saturday too?"
"Uh, well, yes, I, I suppose so. But, but I was just there for a few hours, you
know to finish off things. I wasn't like humming while I worked. And there's
another thing."
"What now? The staff are too polite as well?"
"Go ahead and joke while you can. I was talking to Angelica, that luscious
blonde who does your bookkeeping. You know her, right, she's always decked out
in spandex and those platform boots with the super-high heels?"
"Like you're wearing."
"Well, uh, yes, now that you mention it they are sort of similar. But the thing
is, Angelica wears boots like this every day! These are just for today... well,
this week; I just bought -- look, will you quit trying to change the subject!
I happen to know that Angelica is fucking the boots. Omygosh, what did I say! I
meant, fudging; fudging the books. She as much as told me so. She says she keeps
two sets of records, one for you, one for the tax man. And the weird thing is,
she didn't seem the least bothered by it. I think she was proud of what a good
job she was doing fondling my boobs -- I mean, fucking the books, er, whatever.
Don't tell me this is normal!"
"No, it certainly isn't. She shouldn't be talking like that at all. I'll have to
tighten up security. Excuse me while I make a note."
"Mr. Masters! I am not here to help you with your tax evasion! Look, just
because all the other women here worship you like a sultan doesn't mean I have
to. Oh, that's the thing that really gives me the willies. It's like every girl
in the office is in love with you! Everything they do is for you. They dress to
make you notice, they work so hard to make money for you, they hang on every
word you say. They seem to base their entire perception of happiness on your
approval.
"And that's not all. Their devotion goes beyond eager servitude to your company.
They all want to serve you. Like sex slaves. To give you their bodies for your
satisfaction. It comes up in conversation. Oh, nobody says anything outright to
the new girl, but I'm not dumb. I see the dreamy looks and the moistened lips.
These girls get turned on every time you walk by! And don't think I haven't
noticed the lovestruck lovelies disappearing into your office, or the stupid,
satiated smiles on their faces when they come out. Why, some of the girls even
call you "Master."
"Masters is my name."
"I said Master. Without the 's'. As if they were silly, sexy slaves in your
horny harem. They seemed to enjoy saying the word. I'm sorry, Master --er, Mr.
Master, but I've had enough of this. I'm out of here."
"Now hold on just a minute, my lovely. Don't go anywhere just yet. You are very
perceptive about how my company operates. I think you deserve an explanation.
You're right, my girls are very dedicated.
That's because they're hypnotized."
"What? Hypnotized?"
"That's right. Hypnotized. All of them. Well, technically it's subconscious
suggestions coupled with pleasure rewards, but it amounts to the same thing. I
hypnotize my staff."
"Why? So you can make them crawl around on all fours and bark like a dog?"
"Ho ho. Hardly. No, I did it originally just to improve productivity. You see my
dear, it's hard to get good help these days, and even harder to keep it.
Especially in a computer-based industry. There's so much competition. So much
staff turn-over. Employees are always running off to a better job, or getting
married and moving away, or just quitting for no good reason, like you. So I
started thinking about better ways to motivate, to instil a little dedication in
my staff. I came up with hypnotism."
"But I thought --"
"Yes, you're right, hypnotism can only make people do what they want to do. I
got lucky. I stumbled on a way to couple the hypnotic suggestions with visual
and audio stimuli that promote pleasure in the brain. It's wonderfully
effective. Very quickly the mind starts to equate the suggestions with
happiness.
"So you see, the girls in my office don't just think pleasing me makes them
happy, it really does make them happy. Yet the staff are always doing just what
they want to do, even when they're lying on my desk getting their lights fucked
out."
"Master! This is heinous! How did you..."
"Oh, it's all done with subliminal images on the computers, my dear. The ones
you have been using since you started. I always give my new girls lots of
computer time."
"How, how long...?"
"Depends on the individual. You seem a little more stubborn than most. But
nobody has held out past about two weeks."
"Two weeks! But, but, I don't feel any different."
"Are you sure? Why don't you try thinking about me for a moment. Think about
making me happy."
"Master this is ridiculous. I don't see how... oh, oh my!"
"You were saying?"
"Oh! Oh my gosh, this feels so... so... makes me feel all warm 'n' tingly."
"Nice, isn't it? Getting stronger too, I bet."
"ohgodohgodohgod that is just... mmmmmm, so....yummy!"
"It's the feedback, you see. The more you think about pleasing me, the better
you feel, and that makes you want to please me even more."
"Mmmmmm, Masterrrrrr!"
"Why don't you give yourself a little relief. I expect you're dying to play with
yourself right now."
"No, Master, I couldn't! Not here, not right in front of... ....aaaahhhh."
"Go ahead. By this time you're probably not wearing any panties, so that'll make
it easier."
"N-no p-panties? What, why aren't I... oh shit, this skirt is so short and I'm
not wearing.... ah fuck it that feels niiiice."
"Enjoy yourself, my dear. By the way, you aren't thinking of quitting now, are
you?"
"Wha? Qu-quitting? Oh Master I couldn't! I want this job! I need it! Please,
darling, don't make me go away.... mmmmmm this feels goody goody gooood!"
"I don't know, you were pretty rude a few minutes ago. Sounded to me like you
didn't want the job."
"Please! I'm sorry, Master! I want my job. I want it! I want to please you. I'll
be good, Master, I promisssssse. I'll do anything you say, anything! Just please
please please let me keep my job!"
"Hmmm, I'll tell you what. If you wiggle that fantastic bod of yours over here
and give me a really special blow job, I might just re-consider letting you stay
on."
Oh, thank you Master! Thank you! Please, let me blow you. God I'm so horny, I'll
suck you like no one ever has before. Gimme gimme!"
"Ahem. Rachel, aren't you forgetting something?"
"I -- I am? Forgetting? Oh, yes. I, I should be... down here, on the floor...
like this... yes, that feels so much better."
"And?"
"Arf! Woof! Woof! Bark!"
"That's a good girl. Now sit up and beg, and I'll give you a nice bone...."
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