AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is used for satirical purposes only, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is totally coincidental.
There was a receiving line to meet the great Dalai Lama. There was the cast and crew of the movie (including Pretty Woman, who still smelled of mushrooms), important studio heads, and a news crew from Entertainment Tonight. We waited,and waited, and finally a white limousine pulled up, a door opened, and out came the Spiritual Leader of Tibet himself, walking through the line, with no assistance from anyone. Flashbulbs were popping and the crowd was applauding. The ET camera lights shown on his beatific face. He was wearing his traditional orange robes, sandals, and a pair of wire rim spectacles. He smiled, and slowly worked his way through the line of admirers and contributors. I was pretty bored by the whole occasion (my Donna Karen outfit looked great in this light), but R.G. was like a schoolboy, tapping his foot, checking his hair, licking his lips. Finally the Holy Leader made his way down to us.
Close-up he was a very pleasant man, maybe the most pleasant man you would ever meet in the history of the world. He seemed happy, and he sent off very happy vibes, and that in turn made you feel happy, maybe happier than you'd ever been. Everyone was smiling. He was smiling, and I was smiling. R.G. was smiling. I had forgotten all about losing R.G.'s monster prick, or the Pretty Woman futilely trying to escape her come-bath, and my disappointing ass-fuck. I was just...happy.
The Spiritual Leader passed by me and nodded, then moved onto R.G. R.G. was beaming, and reached out to shake his hand. I'd never seen him this happy, not even when I spent all day last Valentine's Day licking his spicy asshole and playing with his monster balls. Suddenly, the Dalai Lama head flinched, as if someone or something invisible had slapped him. Then it happened again. R.G. look confused. The Dalai Lama look startled...and then...turned to look at me. I smiled as best I could. Suddenly, the Lama et go of R.G.'s hand, and turned and walked back to me. He bent close to me, his lips near my ear.
"You have the power. I can feel it."
I was shocked. I moved back away from him. I smiled at the crowd, and at the E.T. cameras filming all this, everyone wondering--what could the exiled spiritual leader of Tibet have to say to a gorgeous supermodel? "I...I think you must be mistaken."
The Dalai Lama smiled. "I am not mistaken. The power is very strong within you. In your mind."
I smiled weakly. What could I say to this man? R.G. was looking at me, his eyes seething with jealousy.
"Use this power. Enjoy it. It comes to so few."
"Uh...O.K." I smiled, and felt a strange, tingling sensation covering my whole body, starting from my brain and working its way down between my toes. "I will sir, I will use it."
"Good day then." He said, and turned, and moved down the line, avoiding R.G. entirely. The ET lights went off, and R.G. moved to my side.
"What did he say? What did he say?"
"Nothing really. He said...he said he liked my dress."
"Your dress!" R.G. yelled. He was furious. People turned to look at us. He lowered his voice. "I raise over three million dollars for the people of Tibet, and he talks to you... about dresses? He stomped off.
So that's it! That's when I learned for certain I had mental powers far beyond that of most supermodels (that I know of, anyway). I suspected something when I had my cloak of invisibility, and when the come started smacking across Julia's pretty young face, but when the Dalai Lama had confirmed it... Well, that had to be for sure. I vowed then and there this would be the start of a whole new life for me.
Later that month I asked R.G. for a divorce. He was upset, and said he wouldn't allow it, and that his agent said it would be bad for his career. So we made a little agreement. We would each stay in our own separate apartments, with our own separate lives, but meet each other for public appearances and that sort of thing. My only condition: I wanted that big dick of his up my ass, in my mouth, and spraying my itchy little pussy with seed at least once a month, with no distractions and no complaints. R.G. agreed, and to seal the deal I got on my knees in my designer dress in front of the trailer where everyone could see us, but a mental block on the crowd, and had him pump his hot juicy salty spray all over my slut supermodel face. Afterwards he beat my ass with his belt until it raised welts, fucked my tits and my ass, and then had me spend the next hour cleaning his meat, covered with come and sweat and my ass juices, right there in front of everyone (if only they could see us!). I almost cried. What can I say? I'm a sentimental supermodel superslut.
When I first got little Molly, I was just learning to really use my mental powers. I was shooting my second season of House Of Style for MTV, and I told my agent it was about time they gave me an assistant--someone to help me with the little things, like making appointments, setting up lunches, picking up my dry cleaning. (And licking up any spare come that might fly at my beautiful face, though I didn't tell them that).
The next day they sent Molly over. She looked pretty much like she looks right now (well, I don't mean right now, because when I first met her she wasn't on all fours , using her pretty hands to pry apart some black basketball players slick, sweaty ass cheeks while she reamed his rectum with her hungry tongue and anxiously stroked his 12 inch cockshaft, all the while two other bad boys took turns slapping her big bouncy ass till it was covered with red welts... But I digress). No, my Molly was a cute blonde girl of 21, medium height, with expensive wire-rim designer eyeglasses over her big brown eyes that gave her a very intelligent look. And rightfully so, because, according to her resume, she went to one of the finest all-girl prepatory schools in the country, then majored in entertainment law at Vassar, where she graduated 3rd in her class with a 4.0 grade point average. She could have started with the some of the most prestigous law firms in the country. Instead, she chose Viacom Industries and MTV. And me, little Cindy Crawford.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Crawford." she said. "I'm a big fan of the show." That show was HOUSE OF STYLE, my weekly entertainment show on MTV, where I got to do puff piece interviews with minor celebrities while wearing the usual collection of mini skirts and tight tops while all the pimply-faced toy-boys in America pulled their pubescent puds and spurt jizz all over the TV screen. Imagine explaining that to your parents. Sometime watching the show at home with R.G. as he lapped away at my pussy, I could just imagine all those stiff dicks standing at attention just for me, all those hands stroking away like a big round of applause, and all that precious pearl jam flying through the air towards my TV tits, my big TV ass barely in enough material to cover it, my sweet little girl-next-store face, all that yummy cock nectar just going to waste. It's enough to make a girl come and come. Which I did, of course, and my sweet fragrant juices ran down my outstretched thighs and made a pool on the leather sofa. (R.G. always thought it was his astonishing oral technique. Trust me--and sorry girls--this was not the case).
The Dali Lama had assured me my mental powers were very, very strong, and I thought now was the time to put them to the test. I sent a mental field across the office so everyone would ignore us, and turned off the inhibition switch in Molly's pretty little brain. I looked down at her resume. "It says here you graduated with honors from Vassar. Does that mean you sucked a lot of cock?"
I saw Molly's big brown eyes open wide in shock for a second, and adjusted the mind field. I could see her smooth shoulders tense and then relax. She was wearing a cute little yellow sundress with a flower pattern. I noticed her breasts were pretty good-sized, at least 38B, and I watched as the nipples started to make a hard indent against the top of the dress. One of the straps shifted and fell off her shoulder, but she made no move to adjust it. "I did." She said, and bit her lower lip. "I did suck a lot of cock, Miss Crawford."
Everyone kept walking by the office door. No one interrupted us. The mind field was working. This was so cool! Molly kept staring straight ahead, though I could see her shifting from one leg to another, like she had to go the bathroom, or something else. Most likely something else. I smiled at my little Molly, my little plaything. "When the last time you sucked a big hard cock, Molly?"
Molly laughed, and blushed. She brought a hand to her mouth. "I sucked a big hard cock this morning, Miss Crawford." I could see her nipples getting harder and harder. She really some some very beautiful breasts. And those nipples looked good enough to eat, and suck, and twist... "Tell me about it..."
She brushed back her blonde bangs and shifted in the doorway. I could see the light through the skirt of her dress. She wasn't wearing a slip, and her legs looked very long and slender. I remember laughing to myself and thinking, this is my kind of honor student. "I sucked my boyfriend's cock this morning before I came to work. I sucked his cock and licked his balls. Oh, and his asshole. I stuck my tongue up his asshole as far as I could." She smiled. She was still blushing.
I remember thinking was it hot in here, or was it just me? I guess the Dalai Lama was right--I was chosen for great things. Everyone at MTV just walked on by, busy with their day. No one noticed I was in my private office, talking to my new Vassar-educated administrative assistant about blowing big thick cocks. I shifted in my chair, and unbuttoned the bottom three buttons on my Versace skirt. "Did you drink his come?"
"I drank all his come, Miss Crawford. I drink his come every morning." She giggled again, and one of her arms passed slowly across her chest. "We call it part of my special diet."
"And you like drinking his come?" My own fantastic tits were starting to ache a little bit, and I could feel my pussy and asshole getting very moist.
"I love drinking come. As I said, I sucked a lot of cocks in college. And I always drank their come." Molly starting licking her lips. She paid no attention to the office workers as their strolled past my office. Without any mental prodding from me, she reached up and squeezed her nipples through the thin cotton sun dress.
"Do you eat pussy? And ass? You say you sucked your boyfriend's ass. Have you sucked a girl's pussy and ass?" The answers to the really important questions were never on the resume. I reached down to my cunt and started stroking my clit. I was sopping.
"I sucked Julie Brown's cunt the day before yesterday. She said it was part of the job." She laughed. "And Martha Quinn... " She looked up at my shyly. "Martha likes it when I spank her."
"So you wouldn't mind sucking my pussy right now?" Molly's eyes opened up very large.
"No, Miss Crawford. I'd love to suck your pussy. You're the most beautiful supermodel in the whole world." She was almost whimpering.
"And if I wanted you to suck my husband's big cock? Or take it up the ass?"
Molly's knees buckled. I could see a stain of wetness spreading out from the crotch of her dress. She tried to maintain her composure, and cleared her throat. "It would be ahem It would be an honor to suck and clean your husband's cock, Miss Crawford, and to take any cock you say right up my hot ass. I would be honored."
"Well then," I said. By now I had three fingers up my hot cunt, and my pussy lips were wide open and slick with hot juice. "How soon can you start?"
Molly whimpered again, and didn't say a word. Her knees slowly buckled and she sank to the floor. In a matter of moments she was scampering on all fours across the room and over to my desk. I turned my chair towards her and lifted my legs up around my shoulders, giving her complete access to my warm pussy and tender ass-bud. Molly let out a small cry, and dove into my sweet supermodel pussy like she hadn't eaten in days, her nose jammed up my cunt tunnel and her sweet sucking lips nursing on my clit. She little librarian glasses were all askew and covered with supermodel cunt juice. Just for fun, I pulled her face out of my crotch by her pretty blonde hair. She gasped in pain.
"Molly, What did you say your grade point was again?"
Molly smiled. Her face was slick with my juices, and a clear drop of girl-juice dripped off her chin. "4.0, Miss Crawford. Third in my class"
"OK," I said, and let go of her hair. "You're hired."
"Oh, thank you, Miss Crawford," she said, and then her voice was muffled as she went back to sucking my clit. "And don't forget my asshole." Molly looked up. "Oh no, Miss Crawford. No Ma'am," and she snaked a slick finger up my ass tunnel until I groaned, all the while suckling my clit.
That's when I knew this mind control thing was going to work out just fine.
Well, that's my story! There really isn't that much more to say. I've had my mind control powers for some time now, and they're working out great. I've been doing some studying, and I'm pretty sure they have something to do with all that love and envy and adoration heaped on my by the collection unconsciousness, combined with my own incredible charisma (as well as my incredible tits and ass)!. The Dalai Lama calls every year or so to see how I'm doing, so I suppose the cosmic forces are in alignment for now.
R.G. and I finally divorced after he became so obsessed with his spiritual enlightenment that he couldn't get his big soldier to inflate any more, even when I begged him and groveled and let him whip my pretty tits for an hour. I figured that was it--even I couldn't get one huge dick, I'd just have to make due with three or four every day for the rest of my life. And off I went!
Well, my Diet Shake is empty, and my straw is brushing the bottom of the glass. Molly is mewing contentedly with two big black dicks stretching her pussy apart simultaneously, and that white boy's dick is rock hard as he whips her puffy Ivy-League tits raw with my favorite belt. It's about time for my Diet pick-me-up, so I'm going to close out my true confessions, and have Molly guide those three big boners right up my ass. Then, when I get my fill (which could be some time!), I'll do what I always do: have her take those same big beautiful cock-rods out of my curvy ass, go get my Diet Shake mug, and then pump all that delicious hot seed right in there where it belongs. (A girl has to keep her figure!) Then she can clean those filthy cocks, I can call the limo driver to take these boys back to court they came from, and Molly can start cleaning my Persian rug with her tongue. (I hardly have to use any mental suggestion with Molly anymore. She's happy to do whatever I say! She really is a great assistant!)
So the next time you see me in your mind's eye, the supermarket, or on TV, or running across your movie screen, remember--I'm thinking of you, too.
Bye for now!