<!--ADULTSONLY-->
CAPTURED MIND
(M/F, NC, Slavery, Humiliation, Mind Control)

Cindy Silver Eyes
http://www.asstr.org/~Cindy_Silver_Eyes/
cse1986@rocketmail.com	

Cindy was seated alone in the library of Boston College, studying for the Marketing mid-terms, when he spotted her.  

She wore jeans and a Ralph Lauren blouse – casual clothes that still hardly hid her fit body.  She looked like the kind of person who put serious effort into staying in tip-top shape.  He liked that – he liked that a lot.  Another thing he liked was Cindy’s intelligent face, currently lost in concentration over the material she was studying.  

He slid into the chair across the desk.  Cindy looked up, startled, and dropped her Marketing book on the desk.

"Excuse me…" Cindy started to say.

"Don't speak, don’t move" he interrupted firmly.  

And Cindy discovered to her amazement that she couldn’t move or speak.   Her mouth hanged open with what she wanted to say for a long moment.

“Let’s get to know you…” he said quietly, but with a slight smirk.  “But first – unbutton the top 3 buttons of your blouse.”

Cindy suddenly wanted to scream, jump up, get on her feet…  Nothing happened.  She surely wouldn’t do what this guy demanded of her.  Yet, her hands suddenly ached like they were broken, the mere thought of resistance sent shivers down her spine, a burning sensation shot through her heart, and ice-cold fear began flooding her brain – until her hands jumped at the first button and she got relief.  She opened the buttons almost on auto-pilot, same way her hands might have flown away after touching a burning hot pan.  

Soon, her blouse was parted almost down to her navel, revealing a set of big, firm breasts, locked tight in a lacy white bra.

“Very nice…  Now, you may speak, but only to answer my questions – in the mean time, that look of terror on your face won’t do.  Act normal.  Smile at me, play with your hair, and listen to everything I say attentively - pretend you’re in a fascinating conversation with a boy you are particularly smitten with…”

Cindy’s body language changed almost immediately – deep in her eyes, her terror was sitting firmly, but her face began acting the part right away, in the same involuntary obedience fueled by a sudden fear of resistance.

“So, what is your name?” the guy asked.  

“Cindy…  Cindy Cooper” she answered, her voice only slightly mechanic.  

“Hmm… Cindy Cooper – nice name…”

The guy started questioning Cindy about basics – where she was from, how old she was, what she was studying in college, what was her grades, what year she was, where she lived…  Her bank details, her family details…  He’d taken out a small notebook and was taking notes.  He took sips from his Doctor Pepper as he listened, but otherwise he was serious for the timebeing, and the questions were all in the category of getting-to-know-you…

Anybody passing by would have thought the young blonde with the highly inappropriate décolleté was having a conversation with her boyfriend, in teasing fashion.

“Ok…” he finally said, sticking the small notebook in the front pocket of his worn-out hoodie with an anarchist logo on it.  He looked a few years older than Cindy, and despite the worn-out hoodie, and the unshaven face, his eyes revealed a dark brand of intelligence. 

“Now…  I will get up and walk out – you will follow me, a couple feet behind.  We’re heading to the parking lot.  Act normal, like you’re trying to get to your next class.  If you see anyone you know on the way, smile, say you’re in a hurry, and keep walking”.

He got up – and Cindy wanted to resist once again.  She’d been sitting there because he told her to even though she wanted to leave, and now she wanted to stay put, to not obey him.  And yet same cold fear rushed through her body and same crispy signals of pain came, and she was on her feet in an instant, almost without pondering her own protests.  

She followed him as he’d said, a couple steps behind, as he made his way out of the library and walked towards the parking lot – strangely, she almost didn’t wanna see anyone she knew.  She had no idea what kind of trouble that could cause.  They did pass by a guy she recognized from the Accounting class, but rather than saying hi, his eyes went straight at Cindy’s chest – she remembered she was all but  putting her breasts on display at the moment, and she blushed fiery red above the neck.

They finally arrived at the parking lot, and he made his way towards a classic sports car Cindy recognized as an old Mustang.  Painted in bright yellow, with two large black stripes on the hood, she had to admit it was a beauty despite her well-hidden terror.

He started driving as soon as they were both in, and he was going straight to the off-campus house Cindy was sharing with 2 other girls.    

“Now…” her tormentor commanded.  “You will go to your room, and change into the tiniest skirt and top you got; the smaller, the tighter they are the better – also put on the sexiest underwear you have.  Put on the biggest high-heels you have…  Also the following:  Your lap top, your ipod, your toiletries and make-up kit, any essentials you need to look pretty…  Then come back here.  Act normal of course – I won’t repeat that, always act normal towards other people.”

He had to wait outside in the car for about 10 minutes – Boston spring was blossoming all over, bright sun promising a beautiful summer…

Soon, Cindy emerged from her apartment.  She was carrying a gym bag, with her essentials and private things inside.  She was dressed in an extremely short black skirt, that left very little to imagination.  She was wearing a tank top with a zipper in the center – it was electric pink and at least one size too small, she’d bought it when she’d been in a particularly silly mood, and she’d basically never worn it except today.  It felt and looked like the lycra material would tear apart any moment – and it left her entire mid-rift naked.  It was an awful combination with the black skirt, which also had hardly any mileage on it…  The sort of clothes a girl with daddy’s credit card bought but never used…  The 5-inch heels almost made it difficult to walk.  

Cindy was sure she looked like a prostitute, dressed in her skimpiest items in the middle of the day – her roommates had all but said so, commenting on her daring outfit, cracking jokes about which professor she was trying to bed for an A.  She’d desperately wanted to scream for their help, or at least send some signal of distress – yet the mere thought of it was enough get a hard bite of pain and fear out of nowhere.  She’d instead mumbled an excuse of having run out of clean clothes and having her dirty clothes in the gym bag.  She’d rushed out the door, waving at the girls, perhaps her last chance for being saved left behind…

She got back in the car, her face still red in shame from the way she was dressed.  

“Very nice..” he commented approvingly.

He turned the engine on, and began driving.  

“So, now, slave…” he said with a smirk, using that word for the first time – Cindy flinched in terror when she heard it, even though she could not be described as anything else right now, could she?  

“We have somewhat of a ride ahead of us, so I’d like to be entertained on the way…  I’d like to listen to the details of your sexual past…  Are you a virgin? – no, I bet you’re not…  Let’s have it – chronological, start from earliest possible experience you remember… I want to hear every last detail – nothing to be spared.  Get going…”

Cindy tried to keep her mouth shut- she all but shivered in terror.  Some of this stuff had to remain a secret even to herself.  There could be no worse violation than to tell it all to a stranger, to a guy who’d just walked into her life half hour ago…  Yet, she could resist the wave of despair and burning no more than a couple moments.

“When I was an 8th grader…” she blurted out desperately, and began to describe her first wet kiss.

“Hold on” she was interrupted.  

“Let’s make this more fun – I want you to lean into me, and gently message my cock over my jeans while you tell me all that.  And lick my ear-lobe every once in a while to spice it up…”

Cindy wanted to scream – she would not touch him, she just could not…  It was not possible.  Yet almost instinctively she did lean in towards the guy, like a romantic lover, her lycra-clad breasts pressing against his strong shoulder – she realized she was all but taking initiative now, and even violating spirit of what he commanded was enough to send shivers of fear down her spine.  Her left hand found its way to his other shoulder, and her nearly treacherous right hand traveled down between his legs and rested on his crotch, where she did feel the rock-like hardness.

Her mouth was near his ear as she resumed telling her tales of sexual past.  

Anybody who saw them in traffic would think the boy with the Mustang had landed a particularly hot girlfriend and they couldn’t wait to get home…

She told it all one by one – from the first kiss to her first crush, from the first time she offered a guy oral sex to the time she’d lost her virginity.  Every time she’d had sex – which was no more than dozen times with a total of 3 guys…  

Outwardly she was a girlfriend in heat.  Inwardly, she was dying in shame – she could imagine no violation greater than this terror…  and yet she was helpless to stop it.  She leaned in and licked her tormentor’s ear once in a while.  He seemed to be having a good time for sure.  Yet Cindy hated herself for it.  She hated herself for being so powerless, so hapless, dishing out her secrets so freely to him…

“Hmm…” he groaned.  “Great stuff – now, how about you tell me your dirtiest fantasy while we pass this last few smiles…”

Cindy wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and die right then – instead, she landed another lick on his ear lobe, and started telling him about the young princess whose sea vessel was captured by a band of extremely handsome, body-building pirates…

She’d moved to the extremely dashing, blonde-haired, green-eyed leader of the pirates when the Mustang came to a stop.

“Time for some shopping…” he commented.  He produced a piece of paper and handed it to her.  Cindy noticed the car had come to a stop in a seedy part of the city - she would not normally come down here even in the most conservative outfit.  

She further noticed they were parked in front of a sex-shop…

He parted his wallet, which seemed to contain nearly 20 banknotes of $100s.  He handed over $500 to Cindy.  “You buy everything on that list”.  

Cindy looked at the list and her face turned an even darker shade of red:  

One black dildo of at least 8” size
One black double-penetration vibrator 
One set of tweezer nipple clamps with connecting chain
Vibrating nipple clamps  
One small vibrator with remote control
3 kinds of stimulating gels for women
One feather tickler
One riding crop
One leather cat-o-nine-tails whip
One fraternity paddle
2 sets of steel hand-cuffs

“Just give the list to the cashier and he’ll help you collect it all.  Get these and get back here in 15 minutes” he said sternly.

Cindy tensed, ready to object.  But she was out the door the next moment all the same…

The smirk on the face of the fat cashier was too horrible to bear, yet she followed him around the store all the same as he collected one item after another – she felt everyone’s eyes on her, and given what a sexy little slut she must have looked like, it was no surprise.  Her high-heels clicked on the floor ever so loudly, her attire left her barely more dressed than the pictures of models advertising various sex toys on the boxes.

She was humiliated further with every new item off the shelf; she could tell for sure the few old men who populated the store at the moment were indeed checking out just her, rather than all the perverted merchandise around them.

She felt like running out the door by the time her shameful purchases were complete, and she’d paid nearly $300 for this humiliation.  She could feel them all checking her ass as she made her way back to the Mustang.

He drove off right away once she was in the car.  They made another stop a few minutes later – an electronics store, Cindy realized.  

“Now, go get a basic camcorder” she was told by her tormentor.  “Just a basic model, nothing too fancy, the money left over should be enough…”

What would that be used for?  Her heart skipped another beat, and yet she was out the door once again like a trained puppy; she wanted to cry her eyes out, yet her face was all smiles.

They drove away again 10 minutes later, a new camcorder added to the big bag full of sex toys in the back seat of the car.

“Tell me another fantasy” he ordered.  “Same way…”

Cindy was running through the good-looking Cowboys and the captured city girl, her hand once again massaging his crotch and her tongue flicking his ear,  when the car came to a stop.

“Here we are” he announced.  

It was a Holiday Inn outside the city.  

“Now before we get off,  here’s an accessory from me…”

He produced an item – it was a thick-set, velvet dog-collar, burgundy red with gold studs on it.  

“Put it on” he ordered.  Cindy did, the collar uncomfortable and tight around her neck...

“Good puppy” he chuckled.  “Boston College Eagles – get it?  Burgundy and gold…!”.

Cindy did – and she’d all but cry in humiliation if she’d not been ordered to be all smiles no matter what.

“Grab all the stuff and follow me” he commanded as he made his way into the hotel.  They took the elevator to the 6th floor, and soon were inside his room.

“Stand there” he ordered, pointing to the center of the room.  He went through the bags and came up with her IPod.

“Let’s see – favorite playlist… would it be this one, I wonder?  Partylist1?”

“Yes” Cindy answered in dismay.

“You call me Master from now on” he corrected her.  “So, Partylist1 is your favorite then?”

“Yes, Master” she replied, her brief resistance at calling this monster her Master voided by the usual alarms.

“Good…”  he hooked the IPod to the mini-speaker in the room.  He opened the mini-bar and filled up a glass of Jack Daniel’s.  

He took his seat on the only chair in the room and took a sip from his drink.  He hit play and soon music was blasting from the speaker.  

“Now dance for your Master, slave…  And dance the most whorish dance you can imagine – pretend you’re a Vegas stripper…”

Cindy flinched and once again wanted to resist – the music was horrible:  Her favorite, dearest songs, now turned into a terrible tool of humiliation for her.  Unable to resist, too scared to displease her new owner, she began gyrating to the tunes, moving her hips and torso as provocatively as she could, doing every shameful move she could think of that would turn on a man…  She shook her chest, she flew around her long blonde hair, she raised her arms high above, she bent over all the way down; every moment she had a doubt about her own performance, a fresh wave of fear ripped through her heart, and she gyrated and twisted even more…

“Ok – enough of that” he said after 10 minutes, stopping the Ipod.  He paused a moment.  “Now… strip…  your top first, then the skirt, then the underwear – keep the high-heels on…  And do it all slowly…”

Cindy knew this moment would come, the moment of going nude before him, and with everything she’d already gone through, this should have been easy – but it hardly was.  She was hit a by a fresh wave of shame as she unzipped her tank-top and let it fall on the floor.

One by one all her clothing piled up next to her feet.

“Very nice…” her Master commented, looking at her surf-board stomach, shapely legs, large, firm breasts.  

“So, a natural blonde… nice…”.  Cindy’s was very lightly trimmed but it was enough to prove she was a natural – a fact she’d always been only proud of, till now.  

“Turn around slave” he ordered.  “slowly…and lock your hands behind your neck.  I’d like to see everything I now own…”

Cindy rotated her firm body slowly for his viewing pleasure, displaying her well-toned butt, her slender back…

“Excellent!” he commented.  “It seems I didn’t go exploring all over Boston College for 3 days straight for no good reason…  You are easily the most fuckable slut I’d found – and now I am sure of it…”

“So now – let’s get into the mood, shall we?”

The only mood Cindy was in was a burning mix of shame, frustration, and fear, but she stood silently as he spoke.

“Say things to turn me on. Convince me that you like being in my control. Beg me to fuck you and to play with your body.   Think of things I could make you do that you would most loathe, or most fear, or find most demeaning, and beg for those.  – And be fuckin’ creative slave, if you know what’s good for you…”

The words all but flew from Cindy’s mouth – whether her treacherous tongue spoke out of its own accord to please its real owner, or the fear of displeasing her Master motivated Cindy to say the right things, it hardly made any difference:

“Master, I love being your slave…”

“I love being totally, utterly dominated by you”

“I love being your fucktoy, your plaything, your own personal whore…”

“I love being your total property, your possession…!”

“I love being helpless in your hands, under your total command, ready for your every whim, every order…”

“I love being completely naked in front of you – body and soul…”

“I love putting myself on naked display for you.  Please, oh please treat every part of my body as a toy, purchased and owned solely for your amusement.”

“I love being totally obedient to you, I love being more obedient than a dog to you…”

“I am in fact your dog, your little pet, your bitch…”

“I beg of you, I plead with you on my knees, keep me this way forever…  Never ever release me…  always keep me as your pathetic little slave, ready to do your bidding whenever you feel like it…  I want to remain your bitch forever…!”

“If you ever leave me, leave me branded as your fucktoy forever – make me sleep naked and masturbate to your memory, to your domination over me for hours and hours without satisfaction…  Make me reject everyone else because I am still your property even if you’re long gone…Make me send you money, expensive presents, my Mom’s jewels even if you just laugh and toss them away…”

He stretched, and took a sip from his drink, smiling ever more confidently.

“I ache to obey your every whim.  I hate thinking for myself. Assume command of everything in my life…”

“Dress me up as you please, make me go around like a whore…”

“I crave for humiliation in your hands, just to show your rule over me…”

“Put tattoos on me, all over my body, declaring me your bitch and slave…”

“I want to help you capture other women - starting with my friends. I'll help you meet the prettier ones.”

“I want to fuck them while you watch. Then, you can fuck all of us together.  You can make us take turns sucking your dick, licking your balls…”

“Make us whip each other for your amusement.  Make us think we're animals and have us do amusing tricks.”

Her Master undid his hoodie.  He seemed fascinated by the superb ideas and scenarios flying out of the girl’s mouth – and he seemed to love it…

“I loved feeling your cock in my hands on the way here  – now I want to fell it all over me…  penetrating every hole I have…”

“Please fuck me – fuck me hard, rape me like a bitch…”

“Fuck my ass, fuck my tits, fuck my mouth…”

“Make me masturbate in front of you for hours and hours…”

“Make me suck your cock for hours and hours…”

“Cumm all over my face… all over my tits…make me swallow gallons of your cumm…”

He’d gotten on his feet.

“Fuck me like a cheap whore, fuck me like a bitch-in-heat, fuck me like an animal…!!!” Cindy continued to whine and beg…

“That’s enough slave” her Master finally stopped her.  “Time to take my bitch for a ride…  Get down on your knees and suck my cock…”

And the girl obeyed instantly – knowing this would be the first of many, many times…  in her new life as her Master’s property..

http://www.asstr.org/~Cindy_Silver_Eyes/
cse1986@rocketmail.com


 
