The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Okay, doc,” Jeffrey said with a sigh, “give it to me straight. What’s the prognosis?”

Dr. Joseph Mondale shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Myers. I’ve run every test I can think of, but the results all show the same. There’s definitely growth there, in that region.” He gestured to the dark gray area highlighted on the medical screen. “The therapy didn’t take, I’m afraid. The tumor is still there, and getting larger.”

Jeffrey, eyes closed, took a deep breath. He’d known it was bad news, had read it in the doctor’s own mind, knew what the answer was going to be before the man even spoke, but still... he needed to hear the words to believe it.

Cancer. Brain cancer. Considering everything he’d gone through and survived in the past ten years, it seemed almost surreal to succumb to an attack from inside his own body. It was almost funny, in a morbid sort of way.

“Okay,” Jeffrey said after a moment. “Radiation therapy and chemotherapy failed. What other options do I have? Can’t you operate, remove the tumor directly, just CUT it out of me?”

Joe shook his head. “Afraid not, Mr. Myers. The malignancy is located in a very tight ball deep down under the cerebral cortex, in the parietal lobe. No way to reach it without damaging the rest of your brain. I’m truly sorry.”

The reality of his situation was starting to set in, and the icy mass down in the pit of his stomach had started to spread it chill throughout the rest of his body. “So... so that’s it, then? There’s nothing you can do? No radical treatments, no risky experimental surgeries, no last minute miracles? This is it?”

The elderly doctor placed a hand atop Jeffrey’s shoulder. “I like to think that there is always hope, Mr. Myers. I won’t sugar-coat it, things look very bad at the moment, but, well, you never know. In my thirty-five years as a doctor, I’ve seen some truly amazing things. I’ve seen people recover from injuries and diseases that medical science would have rated them with zero chance of survival. I’ve seen wonderful advances in medicine come about in the last decade that you’d never have imagined in your wildest dreams back when I was an intern.”

Heh. I can believe it, Jeffrey thought bitterly, as a small headache made its presence felt. I’m a bit of a ‘medical wonder’ myself already. Not that it helps me right now.

He patted Jeffrey’s shoulder gently. “What I’m saying is, don’t throw in the towel just yet. A large part of beating something like this is strength of will, your ability to fight, to hang on, and cling to life to the bitter end.”

The doctor talked with him for several more minutes, and wrote him a prescription for several medicines to ease the headaches he was having more and more often. Jeffrey took the note, nodding, even granting the doctor a smile when he made a lighthearted attempt to lighten the mood, but Jeffrey’s mind had already turned inwards. According to Dr. Mondale’s closest estimates, he had a year left at the most.

A year to live, he mused silently. It’s kinda ironic actually. Five long hard years sleeping in a cardboard box, living in a small ramshackle shack on the bad side of town, surviving a brutal rape, a mugging by five armed guys high on crack, being taken, kidnapped, and brainwashed by some psycho bitch... and after all that, I go out like this.

Evening had begun to fall by the time Jeffrey left the hospital. On the long drive home to his penthouse apartment, he looked back over his all too brief but somewhat sordid life. Glancing out at the city lights, he was struck by just how insignificant his life really was. He had never been so deluded to believe he would live forever, that when the cities crumbled, and stars fell from the sky, when the last days of existence came and gone, that he would still be standing it. Nothing like that. Indeed, when he had run away from home at age sixteen, penniless, with only the clothes on his back, he had been quite sure he would never reach his twenty-first birthday.

Some time later, when the pendulum swung to the far right, and his life improved so dramatically, he’d thought that he might someday live a somewhat normal life after all, perhaps even settle down one day, marry, have kids, and die in bed with his loving wife at a ripe old age.

No such luck, it appeared.

The pendulum was swinging back to the left again, it seemed. Fate, as he viewed it, was a swinging pendulum, dealing out pain as well as pleasure, giving you grief as well as joy, happiness and sadness, all on a strange, mysterious oscillation to which everything in the universe vibrated. He’d once gloated to his psychiatrist that he was beyond right and wrong, that the rules that governed normal people no longer applied to him.

It seemed that the rules of Life and Death still applied.

He shook his head sadly. One might say he deserved such a fate. In the past several years he had used his power over people’s minds for his own benefit, to increase his already expansive wealth, to get revenge on those who had slighted him, for fun and amusement, and most of all, to satisfy his deepest carnal urges. Was brain cancer a kind of universal karma—to be brought down by a disease in the very part of him that housed his incredible power?

I never really thought much about God, about religion in general. But if there is a God right now, I’ll bet he’s feeling vindicated right about now.

Hilda, the lovely blonde chauffeur driving his car, gestured to her left. “Master Jeffrey,” she said humbly, “we’re passing Club 66 now. Would you like me to stop?”

“No, Hilda, thanks,” he said turning away from the bright neon lights. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“As you wish, Master,” she said, moving into the right lane, taking the turn-off towards Jeffrey’s home. She said nothing more, gave no indication that thought this deviation from their normal routine was strange; she acted in every way disinterested in anything other than her duties as his servant and chauffeur. Just as he’d made her.

Struck with a sudden concern, he asked, “Hilda, tell me... what would you do if I, er, went away, suddenly? If I went on a trip somewhere and decided to stay there. What would you do?”

The blonde girl frowned, considering for a moment, and then answered, without looking back, “Well, Master Jeffrey, I suspect I’d carry on as always. I’d simply take care of the car, and my other duties and wait for you to return of course.”

“I see. And... let’s say I became sick, that I was injured... or that I... died. What then?”

Hilda shuddered slightly, and the car swerved for a second, before she regained control again. “I... I... Master, please! I don’t know what to tell you. I... I mean, I never really considered life without you. You’re my Master. You take care of me, and the other girls. Without you, I... all of us... we would be lost... just lost!”

Slumping back in his seat, rubbing his temples to relieve the sharp pain that had suddenly seized him, Jeffrey muttered softly, “That’s okay, Hilda. Don’t worry about it okay? I was just curious. Just forget all about it.”

Despite the obvious distress and pain in his voice, and the muffled sound from his hands being in front of face, Hilda took his words to heart. The fact that they’d just come from the hospital, that she’d been taking her Master here for the past several weeks for tests that he refused to talk about, simply faded into the background. Jeffrey told her not to worry, so she simply didn’t.

Jeffrey, however, worried enough for the both of them.

He was sitting in his study, reclining, drinking a glass of sherry while watching Daphne and Beverly at play, when the phone rung. Brenda, his personal attendant, slipped away from between her Master’s thighs long enough to retrieve the phone and hand it to him. Jeffrey stifled a groan of pleasure as she returned, speaking into the phone.

“Hello? Jeffrey Myers? This is Charles Devonshire. We met on the eighteenth hole over at the country club several weeks back. I was wondering if you were free to have lunch with me tomorrow, say around noon?”

Devonshire? Jeffrey frowned. Charles Devonshire was the current owner and leading shareholder of TransCorp Industries, his company’s leading rival. Considering the events that happened five months ago, he was wary of any further involvement with the company and its people.

“This is... somewhat out of the blue, Mr. Devonshire,” Jeffrey said slowly, signaling for Brenda to back off, and let him focus on business. “It’s somewhat irregular for two ‘rival’ businessmen to be meeting socially, considering their not-quite friendly history.”

Devonshire laughed. “Please, call me, Charles. Yes, it’s true we’ve been on the opposite sides of the negotiating table a few times... but that doesn’t mean we can’t meet and talk like civil men. Lunch tomorrow at noon, at the club, Mr. Myers. What do you say?”

“Since we’re being civil, call me Jeffrey,” Myers responded. “And with this new-found era of honesty and civility, let me ask you bluntly—what are you after? Why do you want to meet with me now, all out of the blue?”

Charles paused a moment before answering. “I don’t want to go over everything over the phone, Jeffrey. This is an era of remarkably advanced technology, as we both know, so much so that home security has become an eclectic term. Suffice it to say, I’ve been keeping tabs on my competition. I know about your visits to Dr. Mondale.” Jeffrey grimaced, clenching the phone tight in his hand. “Let me be frank. Dr. Mondale might not be able to help you, but I may have the answer to your problem. I’d simply like to meet with you to discuss some things, that’s all.”

“Discuss some things, hmm?” Jeffrey remarked, thinking rapidly. If Devonshire knew of his weekly visits to Mondale, knew about his brain tumor, then it was possible he knew much more about him that Jeffrey wanted anyone to know. The invitation to lunch might be sincere... or it might be a trap. Either way, Jeffrey knew he had to accept. “Very well, Charles. Tomorrow at noon. I’ll see you then.”

“Perfect,” the man replied. “Trust me. You won’t regret it.”

Brenda took the receiver from her Master’s hand, returning it to the cradle. I only hope you’re playing straight with me, Jeffrey thought, as Brenda resumed her ministrations. If you’re messing with me, Devonshire, you’ll be the one to regret it.

“Ah. Nothing like a good cigar after a good meal,” Charlie Devonshire mused, lighting up the stogie, puffing deeply. Jeffrey coughed, fanning the thick smoke away from himself, gasping for air, which caused Charlie to laugh good-naturedly. “Let me guess, you’re a non-smoker. Sorry, old man, awful inconsiderate of me, not asking you in advance.”

“Yes, well,” Jeffrey replied, wiping the tears from his eyes, “I have been known to smoke a cigarette or two in my time, but never anything as heavy as what you’re smoking. What is that, Cuban?”

Charlie brightened. “Yes, actually. Just don’t spread it around, alright? They cost a fortune just getting them into the country. Damn trade embargo. Some old wounds never heal, I suppose.”

The two men walked along the grounds, moving to the clubhouse. “You still haven’t told me why you invited me here to lunch,” Jeffrey stated, when Charles began admiring a set of clubs on display. “Not that I’m complaining; you’re a decent man, and a nice conservationist, but isn’t it time we got to the heart of the matter?”

“Alright, fine,” Charles said, tossing a card to the desk clerk, who immediately rang for two club caddies. “Let’s shoot a round of golf. I’ll explain in detail when we reach the first tee.”

Jeffrey stood there, incredulous. “Golf? But... I don’t have my clubs with me!” he exclaimed.

“Not a problem,” Charles replied, tossing him the set of clubs from the display. “I thought you might not be prepared, so I just bought them. Consider it a loan.”

Sighing deeply, Jeffrey followed the strange man onto the first tee. Charles hit a nice drive straight down the fairway, then turned to his companion. “I think we’re far enough from prying eyes and ears now to talk,” he said, glancing around. “Do you sense anyone nearby?”

Jeffrey blinked in surprise. “Sense anyone? Wh... what do you mean?”

“You know, with your mind, my boy. Do you sense anyone trying to listen in?”

Pushing aside his surprise for the moment, Jeffrey scanned the area. Aside from the two young caddies, there was no one paying them any attention within a half mile radius. “No, we’re in the clear.”

“Good. And don’t worry about the caddies, their my boys. They won’t repeat anything they overhear, I’ll guarantee you of that. Now then, you’re probably just itching to ask me three questions right now. Let me guess. One: how do I know about your powers? Two: does anyone else know about it besides me? and Three: why haven’t you been able to read my mind?”

Jeffery felt taken aback. “Yes, yes, and yes. Question four: are YOU psychic too?”

Charles laughed. “No, not at all. I’m just very well informed. Go ahead and tee off, and I’ll fill you in as we head to the flag.” Jeffrey sighed, and swung, knocking the ball deep into the rough. Charles chuckled again. “Now you see my secret,” he replied, as they walked towards their balls. “I always handle important business with my golfing opponents. It keeps them occupied, and deep in thought, so they aren’t concentrating on the game. It never fails!”

On the green, Charles informed Jeffrey of what he’d learned. Five months ago, he had received a tip that Hardgrove Industries was about to be bought out, that stock prices were about to be ripe for the buying. What astonished him, however, was the news that it was going to be bought out by HIS company. Detailed, discreet investigation turned up a large number of funds being skimmed off the Microtechnology Department, in R&D, specifically from the office of one Dr. Amanda Billings. Billings had apparently planned to build up enough cash to purchase majority stock in Hardgrove Industries, and take over control of the company. Her ambitions, however, included a long term plan to spread her nanobot program to the entire TransCorp family, and gain control of that company as well.

“I had audio and video surveillance set up in her office, the main lab, and the offices of her underlings,” Charles explained. “I witnessed the entire episode five months past, how you broke free of her mind control, hypnotized Dr. Kane, injected Dr. Billings with her own nanobots, and escaped with your blonde slave girl.” He took a deep drag on his cigar. “I like how you handled yourself, Jeffrey. Very tidy. Took your enemy out of the picture permanently, but in a way that no one would suspect you had any involvement at all.”

Jeffrey gulped softly, trying hard to penetrate Devonshire’s mind. The man had him dead to rights, knew his secret, and he was unable to reach his brain, to erase the information.

“You can stop trying that, you know,” Charles replied, dressing the ball, before sinking a seven foot putt. “Oh yeah! Tiger Woods has nothing on me!” He turned back to Jeffrey. “It won’t work. You can’t read my mind, because my brain is no longer organic. But you don’t have to worry, I have no intention of telling anyone your secret. Oh, by the way, its your putt.”

“Thanks,” Jeffrey grunted, chipping the ball onto the green from the edge of the rough, falling short of the hold by two and a half feet. “Damn. I guess I’m just supposed to take your word for it, that you won’t tell anyone? You just called me down here to have a nice lunch together, to play a few rounds of golf, and casually mention that you know all of my dirty little secrets... but that you’re not going to capitalize on them? Excuse me, do I have ‘idiot’ written all over my face?”

“No, not that I can tell,” Charles replied evenly, “just the words, ‘poor golfer’ stenciled in blue ink. Look. My word is my bond. I’m a straight shooter, okay? If I say something, I follow through. I figure you’re the same way... a fair guy, a decent enough person, despite the score of mind-numbed slave girls you keep at your home.” Charles chuckled. “Yes, I know about them too. Don’t worry, though. I have my own little stable back home at my mansion.”

He laughed at the expression on Jeffrey’s face. “Come on, now! Surely you didn’t you had the market on beautiful mind altered slaves, especially after the incident with Dr. Billings? My boy, this kind of thing has been going on for years, ever since people first discovered it’s possible to control others. They just don’t usually advertise it.”

He took another deep drag on his cigar. “By the way, I owe you one. I know without a doubt that the call from Doctor Pendelton was set up by you. With ‘Goddess Amanda’ out of commission, all of her slaves were without her guidance. The entire Microtechnology Department collapsed. Our doctors didn’t have a clue what was wrong with everyone; if Dr. Pendelton hadn’t phoned, diagnosed the problem and offered her services in treating the affected employees, they’d very likely be committed up in Bellevue with Amanda Billings right now. You could have let them go down; after all, they weren’t your problem. But you did something. So that’s why I decided to give you a call when I heard about the tumor.”

Jeffrey nodded, standing there, holding his club. Thinking back, he hadn’t even been sure he should get Victoria involved. TransCorp was the enemy. Still, the idea of all those innocent people suffering needlessly because he had taken away their Goddess hit him hard, touching him deeper than he ever expected. It turned out to be the right call; now that he was in need, his generosity was being returned in kind.

“Well... uhhmm... thanks,” Jeffrey said awkwardly. “I don’t know what to say. I never really expected someone like you... I mean... it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just... well I don’t really see what anyone can do. Dr. Mondale says the tumor is inoperable. It can’t be removed without destroying the nearby healthy cells. I might end up blind, or deaf, or paralyzed... if I’m lucky. I don’t know what anyone can do in this case.”

Charles nodded silently, steadying his shot, before teeing off for the second hole. “Fore!” he yelled, hitting a screaming line drive straight down the middle of the fairway, easily two hundred fifty yards. He dropped his club, and turned back to Jeffrey. “Let me show you something,” he said, removing a small pocketknife from his key chain. “I know all your secrets, Jeffrey. I figure I might as well share one of mine with you. Watch closely.”

To Jeffrey’s shock, Charles Devonshire calmly brought the sharp blade down across his left index finger, biting his lip to suppress the grunt of pain, as he neatly severed the digit, removing it from his hand. Jeffrey, reached out and slapped the knife away, grabbing at the bleeding hand. “Are you crazy? What have you done! You’re bleeding all over the place!”

Charles clamped a hand around Jeffrey’s wrist, holding up the bleeding hand. “Just watch. This isn’t something you’re going to want to miss.”

Several moments later, the bleeding stopped. Jeffery watched, entranced, as the remaining nub began to glow slightly, smoothing out from the jagged lump of flesh and bone to a more uniform shape, which seemed to slowly lengthen. A gasp escaped Jeffrey’s lips as the severed digit slowly reformed itself, millimeter by millimeter, bone, muscle, vein and flesh, all congealing in perfect alignment, reintegrating into an exact replica of the previous excised finger. Charles let out a soft sigh, and flexed the newly grown digit, wiggling his fingers in a show of dexterity. The whole process had taken between six and seven minutes.

Charles released his hand. “My name isn’t actually Charles Devonshire. The name’s CLAYTON Devonshire. I’m the original founder of TransCorp, and I’m currently ninety-seven years old. More than thirty years ago, I had an accident with my nannite prototypes, the ancestors to the modern nanobots you’re familiar with. Those nannites infiltrated my dying body, and performed their primary function: to repair all damaged cells, to augment and supplement existing cells, and improve their functions to its optimal state. Well, they did that, and more. My entire body is now infused with those nannites, and as they were created to be self-replicating, they continue even now to function, replacing worn out cells and tissues the instant they die. I’m virtually immortal now. I’m ninety-seven and I look twenty-six.”

Jeffrey took all this in stride, as he lined up his own first shot. He swung, slicing deep to the left, then turned back to Devonshire. “Okay. Let’s say I believe you, that you are who you say you are. How does that help me? Those nanobot things couldn’t integrate with my tumor. Dr. Billings tried that when she built that damn Crystal Matrix in my brain. Those cancer cells kept disrupting the nanobots, overloading their programming.”

Jeffrey removed a small glass vial with a gray thick liquid inside. “This is a sample of the original nannite prototype I invented. These are far superior to the nanobots currently in use. When I discovered what effect the prototype had had on me... when I found that I’d been made immortal, I knew I couldn’t let the formula ever be known. Imagine if some madman was infused with these, given immortality? If some foreign military dictator managed to become immortal, knew that he couldn’t die, what would prevent him from killing anyone around him? What would most people do if they knew they couldn’t die?” He shook his head. “It would be total chaos. Anarchy.”

“Why are you giving it to me?” Jeffrey asked, holding up the small vial.

“I told you—I owe you one.” Charles chuckled deeply. “I like you, like the way you think, and how you handle yourself. You’re a pretty decent guy... aside from the slave thing, I mean.” His expression turned somber. “Besides, it may be the only thing that will save your life. Those nannites were specifically programmed to eradicate the tumor cells, but not to alter you in any other way. They will kill your cancer, but leave you mortal.” He sighed deeply. “In doing so, it will also make you normal. No more psychic powers, Jeffrey. You’ll be just like every other average guy out there. It’s something to think about.”

Jeffrey nodded, staring at the vial. He was right; it was something to think about. It would give him back his life, heal the black death growing inside his brain. At the same time, it would render him powerless, normal like the rest of humanity. No more women at his beckoned call. No more amusing himself with having people jump through hoops.

He would be like everyone else.

“C’mon,” Devonshire yelled, calling from far down the fairway. “We’ve got a game to finish. You can do the deep introspective thing later. Time’s a-wasting!”

Jeffrey smirked, running after the man, his caddie lumbering right behind. Time enough for deep brooding thoughts later. With the vial in his hands, he now, at least, had time.

“I’ve come to a decision,” Jeffrey said, facing the assembled group of women before him. He’d told them all about his condition, about the brain tumor, and the possibility of a cure, as well as the side effects. Victoria Pendelton and her secretary, Alice, were here as well, kneeling on the floor with the rest of the girls. Jeffrey closed his eyes, building his resolve to do as follow through with his decision.

“I’ve decided to use the vial. I’ve been alive for less than a quarter-century, and I’ve no wish to die young. I survived all those years on the streets without money, without a home, living just by my wits. Even without my abilities, I still have lots of money, my own business, a home, and plenty of food to eat. I have all of life’s necessities, and a lot of life’s luxuries.”

“You have us as well, Master,” Brenda piped in, to the agreement of the entire group.

Jeffrey sighed, glancing down. “Yes... well... about that. I’ve also decided... well, actually I’ve been thinking about it for a while now... for the past five months. I’m going to free you all,” he blurted out, forcing the issue. “I’m going to release you from my control. You’ll all be free again... just like before.”

The room was completely silent. Despite the temptation, Jeffrey refrained from peeking inside their minds, to see what they were thinking. Some of the girls assembled he had taken on a whim, girls he had seen, or taken an interest in. Some of them, like Janet and Lisa, he’d rescued from a bad situation, from an abusive husband, or boyfriend, or another Master. Many he had enslaved as a method of revenge, for crossing him in some way or another in the past; he glanced at Dr. Pendelton, who avoided his gaze. Given a choice in the matter, none of them had been willing slaves. Freeing them now would be a major complication. He had no idea what the girls would do once they were completely in control of themselves once again.

Apparently the same idea had gone through Brenda’s mind as well. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” she said slowly. “Many of us... were we given complete freedom... might not appreciate how we were taken, Master. I think... I feel... I would want to... to... hurt you, if I were allowed my freedom.”

Several of the girls murmured softly, mumbling, not trying to hide similar feelings. Jeffrey groaned internally. “I’m aware of that, Brenda,” he said after a while. “I know very well how you all feel. I had my own freedom taken from me not so long ago. The first thing I did when I broke free again was to cripple the one who’d tormented me. I couldn’t blame any of you if you tried to do the same to me, once I set you free. It’s nothing I don’t deserve.”

“But,” he said, holding up a hand. “I would like to say just one thing. Even though I took you, made you all serve my pleasure, to wait upon me hand and foot... even though I took your freedom away, took your lives away... I treated you kindly. All I did was make you love and desire me, to make you submissive in nature.” He frowned. “Believe me, there are worse predators out there, others who would not be quite so gentle if they ever managed to sink their hooks into you. Compared to some of them, I’m a saint. And that, more than anything else, is why I have to free you. Once I take this vial, I won’t be able to protect you. I’ll just be a normal man again. So before I lose my powers, I grant you all the ability to care for, and look after, yourselves.”

He closed his eyes, sending out his power, touching the mind of each girl, one by one, untwisting the curves and whirls he’d placed in their brains, erasing all traces of his control. He felt the anger, the rage, the hurt of each girl he freed, the barely contained urge to beat him to a pulp for what he’d done to them. Yet he continued, freeing each girl, one by one, until at last, only Brenda remained. Brenda, dark haired beauty, so kind and gentle, so loving, so devoted. He reached deep inside her mind, straightened the last twist, then opened his eyes, and stood, waiting.

“You son of a bitch!” one girl screamed, slapping him hard across the cheek, sending stars dancing before his eyes. One by one, the girls took out their anger on him, some with words, most with slaps, kicks, or punches. Jeffrey endured it all silently, letting them vent their anger, covering his more vulnerable areas, until finally, they tired. Bloody, bruised, sore all over, Jeffrey regained his feet, looking over at the twenty-six angry naked women.

“I deserved that,” he panted softly. “All that, and more. I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it. And no amount of apologizing will make up for it either. But I want to try.” He reached inside and withdrew twenty-six separate envelopes, handing them out to the girls. “I’m a relatively rich man. In each envelope is a check for a million dollars, one for each of you. It can’t make up for what I took from you, but it’s something.” He wiped the blood trickling from his lip. “You can leave anytime you wish. If you need it, I can arrange transportation to anywhere in the world you wish to go. Whatever you want to do... it’s all in your own hands now.” Limping slightly, he turned and headed towards his study.

The girls looked at each other. Then slowly, as a group, they went upstairs, to change into some clothes, preparing to leave.

Jeffrey stood morosely in his study, staring out at the dark rainy night, watching the lightning strike. In the corner, the stereo surround sound systems pumped out James Hetfield’s crooning words of sorrow, as Metallica performed Low Man’s Lyric. Jeffrey sighed, tossing the bloody rag away, sinking into his leather recliner, closing his eyes, losing himself in the words as the music swept him away.

“So low in the sky, it’s all I see...” he sang softly, tilting his head back into the chair. “All I want from you is to forgive me... so you bring this poor dog in from the rain... though he just runs right back out again...”

It had been three days now since he had released his slave girls. By the time he’d returned from freshening up, they had gone. Three days alone, without the familiar faces he had seen every day, welcoming him home, kissing him, fondling him, competing with one another for his attention. He felt morbidly depressed... and so utterly alone.

At least none of them went to the police and filed charges against me, he thought glumly. Not that my lawyers would have let me serve time; they’re pretty good at what they are paid for. SIGH I’m just surprised that no one did.

The urge to re-establish control, to use his power to again enslave the girls and bring them back under his sway was so powerful that he’d emptied the vial of nannites into his system straight away, to ensure he would be unable to give in to the temptation. A visit to Dr. Mondale confirmed the news; the cancer had disappeared completely, along with his power. He was healthy once again, completely recovered. Nevertheless, he’d never felt so miserable in his life.

The song ended, and the CD changes whirled into motion, sliding in the next selection he had programmed. In the moments of silence before Metallica’s Fade to Black came on, Jeffrey heard a noise coming from outside, in the hallway. Frowning, he moved to his feet, swinging open the study door, glancing left, then right. No one occupied the hall, but another noise sounded, this time from the foyer. Jeffrey pulled an iron poker from the fireplace, and moved slowly towards the source of the noise.

Brenda was waiting for him, fully dressed, her long dark hair brushed back to one side. Behind her stood three other girls, all of whom he recognized as his former slaves: Janet, Lisa, and Hilda, his former chauffer. They showed their anxiety on their faces, which in turn made Jeffrey very nervous. Clearing his throat, lowering the poker but not releasing it, he turned to Brenda.

“What’s all this about? I thought you all decided to leave three days ago.”

They looked at each other, then nodded to Brenda. “We did,” she said after a moment. “We all left and went our separate ways. I think we all just needed to get out and get some space for a while, kinda get some perspective on what we’d all been through.”

Jeffrey nodded. “I can understand that. But, why have you returned? Do you need something more to help you get settled?”

Hilda, biting her lip, stepped forward. “Mas... Jeffrey,” she corrected, “Damn. It’s been so long, I can’t think of you any other way. Look, I know what you did to us, what you took from us, and I think I understand better than the others why you released us. I can understand why the others felt so angry, so hurt at being made into slaves against their will. But I... I have to say that I was happy being you slave. You took good care of me, treated me well, better than anyone else in my life ever did.”

Hilda sighed softly. “When you took me, you saved me from a life on the street, hooking, selling my body just to make ends meet. When you first came to me, when you first gave me the choice of submitting to your willingly, I didn’t know you. I refused you, I fought you. I thought you were just another dumb jerk looking to take what he wanted from me then discard me, like all the others. But you were different. I was your slave, yes, but I wasn’t JUST a slave, just a nameless possession, a worthless slut. I had purpose in your eyes. You cared for me, in your own way. I was happy serving you.

Lisa and Janet nodded. “My sister and I... you saved us from a brutal slavery. I know we haven’t been with you as long as some of the other girls, but you quickly showed yourself to be a kind, caring person.” Janet laughed ruefully. “That’s not to say that you don’t have a temper, and that you don’t know how to keep a girl in line. But even at your worst, you were miles above what our old Master was at his very best.”

“Jeffrey,” Brenda said, her voice thick with emotion, “what we’re all saying is... we want what we had before, with you. The others may have a life to go back to, but us... we four, we have nothing. We were happy with you, that much we admit. You were a good Master. I don’t like the fact that you took away my will, that you enslaved me by force.” She smiled sadly, tears running down her cheeks. “But if I had it to do over again, this time, I’d give myself to you, willingly.”

Jeffrey felt absolutely floored. The girls had left him, angry and hurt, wanting nothing more to do with him. He’d felt like a toad, a villain, a real creep. All his young life he’d sought acceptance, searched for someone who would love him, accept him, willingly. Always he met with rejection, and he’d responded by taking. Now, finally, he had given up, stopped trying, resigned himself to being alone... and four of his beloved girls had come to him!

“Are you...” he began. “You want to be with me, like before?” he asked, not yet daring to hope. In response, Brenda dropped to her knees, kneeling before him, bowing her head, eyes, wet with tears, turned up at him. One by one, the other three girls followed suit, kneeling before him, granting him their submission, and their very lives, if he so desired to keep them. His heart filled nearly to bursting, with love for the women before him, but one dark thought kept him from it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning away. “It won’t be the same. It can’t be. I don’t have the power anymore.” He dropped the iron poker to the floor with a loud clang. “I took the vial already. I can’t make you the way you were before. Besides... I don’t think I want things to be that way anymore. You all deserve more... so much more, than to be a mere slave serving my whims. You deserve to be free to choose.”

“We have chosen,” Lisa insisted forcefully. “We want to be your slaves. We beg it! You gave us back our minds, gave us the ability to chose what we want, but you didn’t take away the memory of what we’d had with you. I discovered that I like being a submissive, that I take pleasure in serving someone firm and strict, but kindly. This is the kind of life that I want. Please, Jeffrey, don’t turn us away!”

“But... but I can’t make things the way they were,” he cried in frustration.

“Perhaps I can help, ‘Master’ Jeffrey.” Dr. Pendelton stepped through the doorway. She smiled at the girls, then walked over to her former owner and hugged him tight, kissing his lips. “I don’t have psychic powers, but I am a licensed, well-trained hypnotherapist. I can put the girls back into their previous slave-like state of mind... but also allow them to return to their natural selves whenever you wish it.” She smiled softly. “I can also hypnotize you, Jeffrey, and help you regain your confidence, your ‘Masterly’ demeanor, if you like. All I ask is that you hypnotize me afterwards, and do the same.”

Jeffrey nodded, smiling. “It’s a deal, doctor.” He sighed deeply, preparing himself.

Victoria began her induction, guiding her audience into a deep deep trance. Jeffrey relaxed, letting himself go, succumbing to Victoria’s soft melodious voice, letting it guide him. He felt free at last, free of the last of his guilt, free from the painful ache of loss in his past, free to simply let go and look towards his future. That future shone brightly, filling him with renewed purpose and hope.

The fears and doubts, his pain, all the burdens he’d carried with him, were swept away, by the onslaught of Victoria’s soothing empowering words. Jeffrey was being remade, a new Jeffrey, moving once more into the light. The old Jeffrey, hard, embittered, and alone, descended into the darkness of oblivion, fading softly into the blackness.