The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jigsaw

I’ll call myself Bob Scott. I’m writing a history of my experiences with a mind control drug that totally improved my life. Let’s say I was a purchasing agent in the clothing import business (almost, but not exactly true, I still have to be a bit careful) and I had to do a lot of travelling to examine merchandise in different parts of the world. This buying trip was to Hong Kong. If you’ve done business there, I don’t have to tell you about the heat, and people so polite if you can help them make money, and so rude if you can’t. Verbal contracts mean nothing. Many times I thought I’d made some fantastic deal, only to have it disappear to someone offering a few bucks more. Some of my contacts are OK, but most are just business, as fast as possible. Of course I always told my boss that all of my contacts were personal friends of mine. She didn’t have to know my contacts would do business with anyone who waved a dollar under their noses. Finally I’d managed to complete a few orders I thought would pass inspection. I deserved a few drinks in the hotel bar, then crash in my room and home tomorrow. Suddenly there she was, a beautiful Chinese girl. She must’ve just walked in. She seemed nervous, and my first thought was, “Working girl … and she’s either an amateur, or a good actress.” There were two rich looking guys drinking alone. For sure she’d wind up with one of them. She looked around, then really surprised me, she walked straight to my table, introduced herself as Ann, and asked if she could join me. She had a very beautiful face, and from what I could see, a nice figure to go with it. Of course I said, “Yes.” She sat with me for a minute, looking nervous, then she looked down bashfully, and quietly asked me if I could help her. She said she had just broken up with her boyfriend, but had left without money, and could not go back. She said I looked like a nice man, who would not take advantage of her. Would I please let her sleep on the couch, or on a second bed, in my hotel room that night? I knew it wasn’t true, I knew it was some kind of scam, but I couldn’t resist, I had to say “Yes.”

She accompanied me up to my room, and sat down on the couch. I sat in a chair facing her, with a small table between us. She asked if she could have a little drink, to help her to relax and sleep, after her breakup with her boyfriend. I didn’t mind. In fact, I would join her. I found a half-bottle of wine, in the courtesy bar. She went into the bathroom, and found two glasses. I had some nagging suspicions, so I also took, and hid, another glass from the bar. I had just poured us both a glass of wine, when she started to wipe her eyes, and asked me if I could get her a bit of tissue paper. I went into the bathroom and got her some toilet paper. I wiped her eyes, then held the tissue paper up to her nose, obviously expecting her to blow her nose in it. She looked at me, then blew her nose. I handed her the paper, and waited. She took it into the bathroom. When she came out, she asked if she could please have some little thing to eat, with the wine. I went back to the courtesy bar, and brought back a basket of fruit, cheese and crackers. She thanked me and we drained our glasses. As we talked, she kept looking at her watch. She still looked nervous, but after about ten minutes, she suddenly relaxed, and an arrogant little smile appeared on her lips. She sat up, straightened her clothes, then leaned forward, and said, “O.K., Round Eyes, it’s time for you to learn to obey me.” I must have looked a bit surprised, because she laughed, “Yes I have heard how you Americans call us Chinese ‘Slant eyes’, but we are billions, and it is you who are obscene … Round Eyes. You think that I am some whore that you may sleep with, … no, I am officer in Chinese Intelligence, and you are not worthy to lick my boots. You will never touch me, Round Eyes. My duty is to smuggle our mind control drug into the United States, so we may own Americans. And you will do this for me. I put our mind control drug into your wine, and can now control your mind. Soon you will be happy to smuggle our drug into the United States for me. Then you will swim in your famous Bay, and drown for me. Yes, you will be happy to die for me. To guarantee my safety, you must die. Yes, you will smuggle my drug, and die for me. But first, you will learn to obey me.”

Oh boy, this was a lot more than I’d bargained for. I’d thought she had probably put something like GHB into my wine, but I’d switched our drinks, and was pretty sure she’d swallowed her own drug. I had thought she’d pass out and I’d fuck her, or at the worst, I’d pass out and get robbed. But this was way more. And it was possible I’d outsmarted myself. I thought of slugging her, and pushing her out the door, but if she worked for Chinese Intelligence she might know karate, she might even have a gun. Finally I decided I had to go for it. I said, “I switched our drinks, so maybe it’s time for you to learn to obey me.”

She laughed and said, “You think your little tricks could fool me. O.K., let us decide on some rules that the one of us who swallowed the drug must obey.” Ann already knew two rules she wanted me to obey, and suggested we use those rules. First, the one of us who had swallowed the drug would instantly become the slave of the other one, and from that moment on, would exist only to please his or her master. That person would not resist; he or she would simply surrender to the other one. The first rule then was: the one who swallowed the drug would make sure every thought, every movement, and every sound that he or she ever made, would please his or her master. The second rule was that the one who became a slave would never do anything to harm or displease his or her master. Ann’s rules sounded OK to me, so we agreed to use them. We agreed that as soon as we knew which of us had swallowed the drug, that person would simply surrender, and become the other person’s willing slave. From then on, that person would do everything he or she could do to please his or her master, and never displease or harm his or her master. She laughed, “And surrender on your knees, on the floor, in front of me, Round Eyes.” Well OK, that sounded fine too, so we agreed that the one of us who became a slave would surrender on his or her knees.

Once we had agreed on what the one who had swallowed the drug would do, she smiled at me again, and told me that she had switched the glasses back. I took out the extra glass, showed it to her, and told her that I had switched drinks with it, while she had been in the bathroom. She laughed and told me that while she’d been in the bathroom she’d used a small mirror to watch me. She took out a glass and said that while I had gone to the courtesy bar, she had switched our drinks back with it. I told her that while I had poured her drink in my glass, I’d turned around. She laughed again, accused me of stalling and said that as she poured my drink in her glass, she hadn’t bothered to turn. Now came my last trick. It was all of nothing, right now. I told her she should have watched more closely, because while I was turning, I poured the drinks back in the original glasses.

Ann looked confused, like she didn’t understand, so I asked if she had poured the drinks back into their original glasses. She stared at me. Her eyebrows went up, her eyes widened and her mouth opened. It looked like she’d just seen a rattlesnake. She whispered something in Chinese. I didn’t understand her but it didn’t matter, we both knew who had swallowed her drug.

I put my foot on the side of the table between us, and pushed it aside. For a moment, she sat there staring at the space where the table had been. Then I heard a tiny whimper and watched her slide off the couch, down onto her knees on the floor. She looked up, with shock and disbelief in her eyes, then she looked down and whimpered, “I … am your slave … Master.”

I still saw shock in her eyes but no disbelief now. I saw it in her eyes, Ann knew the drug had worked, she was my slave. Suddenly I saw hope in her eyes. She blinked several times, then she asked, “Would you like me to strip for you, Master?”

I was suspicious, but it looked like she had a nice body, so I said, “Yes, Ann, if you really are my slave, strip for me!”

She got to her feet. It was a hot day. She was wearing a thin, beige printed dress, and sandals. She kicked off her sandals, and reached up to her shoulders. There was a thin creamy dress strap, and what had to be a purple bra strap, on each shoulder. As the dress straps slid down her arms, the rest of her dress slid down her body. Like I thought, she was wearing a purple bra. The dress slid down her legs, to the feet. She kicked it aside. She had nice legs topped by purple panties that matched her bra. I watched her reach behind her back, saw the bra straps loosen, the bra slide down her arms and the cups slide off her breasts. As she dropped the bra, I told her to stop, and let me examine her breasts. She stopped, walked over, and showed them to me. I couldn’t believe it. Ann didn’t look happy, but she had obeyed me, she was standing in front of me, showing me her breasts.

One of the first things I’d noticed about Ann was the two, nice-sized bumps in her dress, so the fact that her breasts were more than a handful didn’t surprise me. She looked like she was 18 or 19, so the firmness of her breasts didn’t surprise me. No, what surprised me were her pink nipples and areolas. I’d expected them to be brown, maybe even dark brown, not pink. But they were definitely pink. I looked back at her light brown face, and noticed the light brown ‘V’ on the top of her chest. Everything below that was surprisingly white, except for two pink nipples, slightly larger than pencil erasers, with two pink circles around them, maybe an inch and a half across. I cupped the fingers of my left hand around the top of her right breast, put my thumb beside her nipple, and started to played with it. Her breast felt nice and firm, and her nipple felt nice and soft. But as soon as I touched Ann’s breast, I heard her puff out a soft, “Huh,” and felt her nipple move away from my thumb.

I noticed she had bent slightly back and down. I reached out to her chin, lifted it, and said, “Straighten up. Breasts out.”

Her eyes opened a bit more as she gasped a little, “Oh,” and she straightened up. I felt her right breast move my hand up, then press forward, into my hand. I couldn’t help smiling but I noticed Ann wasn’t smiling, she didn’t look very happy at all.

I kept smiling at her, and asked, “You don’t mind if I play with your breasts, do you? … Slave?”

She looked even more unhappy, and I knew she wanted to scream, “Yes, I do!” but instead, she looked away, and said, “You can do anything you want to me … Master.”

I examined both breasts, and both nipples. Her breasts felt great, round, firm cones, moving in and out as she breathed. I loved the feel of her soft, pink nipples moving against my fingers, as she breathed in and out. But I noticed that she was still looking off to the side. I watched her blinking, but I could also feel her nipples, getting bigger, and harder, under my fingers. I kissed each of her nipples, then looked back up. She had turned her head back and was staring at me, looking very annoyed. I don’t think she liked me kissing her nipples but she couldn’t do anything about it. I laughed, and kissed her right on her lips.

This time, I felt her breath, as she puffed out another, soft, “Huh.”

I moved my head back slightly and asked, “Aren’t you supposed to cooperate with me? … Slave?” and kissed her again.

For a second, she didn’t move, then she breathed out a little, “Mm,” through her nose, and I felt her mouth open slightly. I felt my slave gasp another “Mm” against my cheek, as she tilted her head to the side, and opened her mouth for her master. She put her arms around me, hugged me, and kissed me. Our tongues wrestled inside her mouth, for I don’t know how long.

Finally I stopped kissing her, pulled back, and looked into her eyes again. She was stared right back, and she was pissed. I laughed, and she looked even more pissed. I knew she had to cooperate, so I kissed her again, and my slave kissed me back. When I looked back in her eyes, I saw anger, and determination. She whispered, “Should I finish stripping now? … Master?”

It seemed like she wanted to strip for me, but after the way I had played with her breasts, and kissed her like a slave girl, she had to have a pretty good idea of what I’d be doing to her when she was naked. But she sure seemed eager to strip naked. I was getting very suspicious, but it couldn’t hurt to watch her strip, so I just nodded and said, “Yes, Slave, finish stripping”

She pushed her panties down to her ankles, then she stood up, with her arms at her sides, and pushed her hips forward. She had an eager, hopeful look on her face. She seemed to be eager for me to touch her. I ran my fingers down her stomach, into her pubic hair. She had pure black, coarse looking pubic hair, but it felt surprisingly soft. As I moved my fingers down, I could feel the bump of her pubic bone and the start of the dimple going down between her legs. She opened her legs for me, and I felt that dimple open, under my fingers. As I looked back up, into her eyes, I could see that hopeful, eager look again, and became even more suspicious. I told had her to step out of her panties, lie on the couch, and open her legs. She quickly and eagerly lay down and opened her legs for me. She gave me a nice, close-up view of her cunt lips, clitoris, pee-hole, vagina and ass hole, but the hope in her eyes made me so suspicions I wouldn’t touch her. Instead we had a nice little talk about what her duties would be as my slave. She agreed to obey me forever, and cooperate with me forever. She agreed to exist only to please me, and never do anything to displease me, or to harm me. But she still had that hopeful look in her eyes. I knew Ann had done a lot of thinking about the orders to give a mind-controlled person, so I ordered her to tell me about any other orders I should give her, to guarantee I would safely own her, for the rest of her life. I watched her hopeful look vanish. She started to whimper. I knew she didn’t want to tell me, but she had no choice; she had to obey me. Finally she whispered, “You … you should order me to obey a third order forever. Order me to do everything that I can do, to prevent you being harmed or displeased.” Now she looked scared. She told me she hadn’t suggested that order, when she suggested the orders one of us would obey, so she could let me hurt myself. She admitted that her plan was to let me hurt myself, but if she had to obey the third order, she would have to stop me. Finally, I saw real fear on her face. She knew she was going to be my slave. She quietly agreed to obey that order forever, then whispered, “I have a poisoned needle in a tube, inside my vagina, Master. If you put your finger or penis in my vagina and press against that tube, the needle will spring out and inject poison into you.”

Now I knew why she wanted to strip for me. I laughed, and asked, “What’s the safest way for me to removed it, Slave?”

She quickly and calmly replied, “There is another tube in my purse, Master, with claws that will grab the poison tube.”

I found a thin metal tube in her purse, and pushed a button on one end of it. Three little claws opened on the other end. There was no hope in her eyes now. She watched me pushed the button, and push the tube into her vagina, until it stopped. Then I released the button, and slowly pulled the tube out. The little claws had closed around a second tube, and pulled it out. I asked Ann if there was anything else about her that could harm me, and she replied, “Yes, Master, I have a poison capsule in one of my teeth. To use it, I must bite something hard enough to break the tooth. But I cannot use it, unless it pleases you. I cannot harm you or allow you to be harmed. I am your slave, and I will do everything I can to please you and keep you safe. If you wish, I will die for you. Or you may keep me as your slave, and own me for the rest of my life.” Then she whispered, “Please … I would rather die … than be a slave for the rest of my life … but … I am a slave … so it is no longer my choice. You are my master. It is your choice. I will live for you, or I will die for you, Master.” I thought about it for maybe a second.

I put my middle right finger into her vagina, looked into her eyes and said, “Surrender to me completely, Slave!”

She looked right into my eyes and replied, “I surrender to you completely, Master.” As she spoke, I felt her clitoris press against my hand, as her vagina started to slide up and down my finger. I heard her moan, and felt my finger became slippery. She gasped, “Master? Do you wish to have sex with me, Master?” I dropped my pants and underwear, and I fucked my slave.

Ann made sure I understood that she was my slave, I really did own her, and could do anything I wanted to her, anything. I’d never had sex like it. I didn’t have to worry about touching Ann the wrong way, in the wrong place, or at the wrong time. Every time I touched Ann, she made it crystal clear that she was my slave, and I had the right to touch any part of her body, any time, and any way I wanted. I started to relax and enjoy owning a slave girl. Five minutes after fucking her the first time, I knew every mark on her body. She had a little birthmark on her left bum cheek. I knew its exact size, shape, and color. She had two freckles on her right breast, and one on her left breast. I knew their exact size, shape and color. I knew the exact size, shape and color of her nipples, her cunt lips, her clitoris, and her vagina. I knew exactly how each of them felt. I knew the taste of her lips, her nipples, and her cunt. I knew exactly how slippery her vagina got, when she was ready to fuck. I could almost say I knew each of her pubic hairs by its first name. Owning Ann was more fun than any Christmas as a kid.

I fucked Ann five more times before morning, and between fucks, she told me all about herself. She also gave me a small can of shaving foam from her purse. The pump end worked normally, but the other end unscrewed. There were 997 doses of the mind control drug hidden in that can, and that was all there was. American agents had blown up the lab that had made it, killing every scientist that knew about it. They also managed to get a computer worm in every computer with the drug’s files, destroying them all. She told me it was the perfect mind control drug, and it was her duty to get what was left into the US. She had been told that the drug always worked perfectly, on everyone who swallowed it. Every time a spy had used the drug, it had given him or her total control of someone’s brain, and every change spies had made in people was a permanent change. Everyone thought the drug was lost forever, so if she got it into the US and let her boss use it, it would really boost his career. I suspected he must’ve used the drug on her, to inspire loyalty that had made her want him to be the only one with the drug. Now, of course, the only thing important to her was that I should be the only person in the world to have, and use, that drug.

She also had a list of people treated with the drug, including 57 young women beautiful enough to seduce important men, and she had a card identifying the carrier as their master. I put the can in my carry-on bag, and the list and card in my wallet.

Usually when I am in bed with a reasonably attractive woman, I manage to rise to the occasion for a second round of sex. And if we spend the night together, I can usually manage a third round of sex in the morning, and sometimes a fourth round, but I easily fucked Ann six times that night. Of course, I owned Ann. It felt great, fucking a girl who knew that I owned her. Every time I showed the slightest interest in Ann, she had made sure I knew that she would do absolutely anything I wanted, and I could do absolutely anything I wanted to her. She made it clear she was my slave forever; she existed only to please me. About five o’clock, she asked if I wanted to fuck her again, but I told her that six times was enough. Then she convinced me that she had to stay in Hong Kong. Now that I owned her, I really wanted to take her home, and keep her as my slave forever, but she convince me that would be very dangerous, probably fatal, for me. Nobody in her agency suspected she had the drug. Her bosses were sure that the drug was gone forever, but if their proven, loyal comrade suddenly decided to defect to the US, they might suspect that their drug, or something like it, had been used on her, and they’d use all of their resources to find out. That would be very dangerous for me. No, she had to keep working as a spy, of course she would secretly be working for me. And if I ever came back, she’d be available to me, or if she could get assigned to work in the US, she’d be available to me. But that would take at least a year, probably several years. Until then, she’d still be my slave, but thousands of miles away. Ann was beautiful, a great fuck, and I owned her, so I tried hard to think of some way to take her with me, but she was right. Besides, with the drug, I could own another girl, in fact, 997 girls. And her list of mind controlled people included 57 women. According to Ann, I could show the card she’d given me to any of these women, tell her to be my slave, and own her forever.

Later that day, I caught my plane home. The can was still in my carry-on, and the list and card in my wallet. It was early morning when I walked back into my apartment. The can of shaving foam went inside the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I went to bed. I hadn’t slept for a day and a half, but still couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about Ann and the mind control drug. I kept thinking how awesome it was to actually own Ann, even if I couldn’t take her home, and how awesome it would be to own a slave girl I could keep near me. Then I thought about how much more awesome it would be to own 1054 slave girls.

I went to the office that afternoon, and reported to my boss, Stacy. I had worked for her father, George, for over 10 years. Now George was retired, and Stacy was the boss. George had married a beautiful woman, and Stacy had inherited her looks. I still remembered the first time Stacy had walked into George’s office. She looked so gorgeous that I had trouble breathing. Stacy was fairly tall, around 5 foot 9, with light brown wavy hair, big brown eyes, a small pointed nose, and a pouting, spoiled-girl mouth. She seemed so sweet and nice, as George introduced her to me. George had always been such a great boss that I didn’t like him retiring. But after I met Stacy, I couldn’t wait for him to retire. George seemed so proud of his daughter. It was a shame that she ended up being a know-it-all, spoiled brat, and even more of a shame that her father couldn’t see it. Now she was making it her goal in life to replace the over-the-hill men in the company, like me, with young, female friends.

Anyway, I walked into Stacy’s office. She was talking to one of her friends, a beautiful, Chinese bitch, named Christine. She told me that the next time I went to Hong Kong, Christine would go with me, so that she could meet all of my contacts, as if I would just hand over my contacts to one of her little bitch friends. I made a few polite noises, and left.

On the way out, I stopped for a friendly chat with Stacy’s secretary, Amanda, a pretty, twenty year old, redheaded girl, but not one of Stacy’s friends. She told me “The Bitch” was making her work through lunch again, and she could hardly wait to get to Teresa’s Diner, after work. Amanda was a pretty, girl next door type. She was a bit young, but I’d always liked her. She had a slightly long face, with big brown eyes, a thin pointed nose, a big toothed smile, and a little, slightly pointed chin. She was wearing a loose blouse, with two high bumps; no saggy tits here. And her skirt showed a pair of nicely curved legs. Sitting down, Amanda’s skirt lifted up to about mid-thigh, high enough to show the start of a beautiful gap between her legs. That gap looked so inviting I couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be to slide between those legs. I stood there, thinking, “I could own you.” But how could I get her to swallow Ann’s drug? Then I’d need at least ten minutes for the drug to work, and maybe five to change her into my slave. As I watched Amanda talk, I could almost see the look on her face, as she agreed to be my slave forever. I could almost feel my lips on her lips, feel her mouth opening, feel myself sliding between her legs. Suddenly I heard her ask if I was OK. I told her I was just thinking about something, and decided to eat supper at Teresa’s.

I spent the afternoon writing down a set of instructions for Amanda, and got to Teresa’s Diner before our office closed. I sat in a booth at the back. Amanda came in, sat at another back booth, ordered coffee, and went to the washroom. I watched the waitress pour her coffee, then I went over and dropped a pill into it. Amanda came back, added cream and sugar, stirred, and emptied her cup. Ten minutes later, I walked over. She looked up. “Bob? Oh … I told you I’d be here ... I’m sorry if you misunderstood; I wasn’t asking you to come.” I told her to be quiet, and act like she wanted me to sit with her. She frowned, then she smiled. I sat beside her, gave her the page of instructions I’d written, told her to read it and watched her read it twice. I’d spent hours thinking about the instructions to give Amanda. I’d kept Ann’s three orders as the core, added a fourth order to make sure that sex was included, and added some instructions to guide Amanda through the process of becoming my slave. Ann had told me the drug worked perfectly, every time, but I couldn’t be totally sure about how Amanda was going to react. I was pretty sure that my set of instructions should work without a flaw, but I still watched every reaction on Amanda’s face.

Stay calm and relaxed as you read this. Don’t let yourself get angry or upset, just stay calm and relaxed.

  1. Always please your master. Every time you think, move or make a sound, make sure you are pleasing your master. Every time you think, move or make a sound, choose the thought, movement or sound that will most please your master.
  2. Never hurt or displease your master. Never do anything that could possible hurt him, or make him unhappy. Every time you think of a movement or sound that could harm or displease your master, stop thinking about it.
  3. Always protect your master. Always do everything you can, to keep your master safe and happy. Always do everything in your power to make sure your master is safe and happy
  4. Always make sure your master understands that he really does own you, and that owning you includes owning your body. Make sure he always understands that you are his slave girl, and that you are available to him, for sex, whenever he wants.

When she started reading the paper I’d written for her, she was smiling, but her expression had soon changed to surprise. I felt strangely warm; I knew her surprised look was because she had seen the word, slave. She read for a few more seconds, then she closed her eyes, and I could see her face and body relax. When she opened her eyes, she looked calm and relaxed, perfectly normal. She looked very calm and relaxed as she finished the paper. She was obviously paying close attention to it, but from the look on her face, she could have been reading a magazine. Then her eyes flicked back to the top of the paper, and she calmly read it again. When she finished, she leaned toward me. She still looked normal, but she didn’t act normal. She pressed her breasts against me, and whispered, “I’m your slave, Master ... can we talk about the four orders? … Master?”

We talked about each of the orders, and she agreed to obey all of them, forever. She agreed to do anything to please me, and to exist only to please me, forever. When I asked if that meant her body existed only to please me, she giggled and said, “Of course, Master.” Then she promised she would never do anything that could possibly harm me, or displease me, forever. And she promised to always do everything she could, to keep me safe and happy. I kept watching her. From her expression, you might think she was my girlfriend, flirting with me. She kept smiling happily, like she was happy to become my slave. Then we talked about sex. She was still smiling, but her cheeks turned pink, and she started to giggle again. She promised me I could have sex with her, whenever I wanted. I put my hand between legs, and slid it up to her panties. As I pressed a finger between the lips of her cunt, she opened her legs and giggled, “Do you want sex here, Master? Or somewhere more private?” I paid our bills, took my slave girl to my car and explored her mouth with my tongue. Then I drove her back to my apartment. As we drove, I slid my hand under her skirt, and fingered her cunt. I felt her panties getting wet, but she kept smiling at me.

When we got to my apartment, I walked her to the middle of my living room, left her there, and sat down on the couch. I turned on the soft rock station and told her to dance for me. I don’t know what the music was, but it was slow, with a beat. She started to sway to the music. I watched her dance for a minute, then said, “Strip for me, Slave.” She lifted her sweater up, above a yellow bra. It looked like her breasts were a just as nice as I had hoped. Her sweater went up over her head, and off. She turned around, opened the button and zipper on her skirt, and bent over. Slowly she pushed her skirt down, off her bum, then right down to her ankles. Her bum was a bit small but at least it wasn’t flat. For a small bum, it was a surprisingly round. I ran both of my hands over her ass, and squeezed each of her bum cheeks. Her ass felt wonderfully round and firm.

She stepped out of her skirt and her shoes, turned around, and started to dance again, wearing only her bra and panties. She danced up to me, put a knee on the couch beside me, the other knee on the couch on the other side, and danced in my lap. She put her hands behind her, and started to move her breasts in circles. I saw her bra straps loosen and slide down her arms. I felt her bra drop on my dick, and watched the two pink volcanoes on the tips of her breasts, moving in circles in front of me. I told her to stop dancing and let me examine her breasts. She put her hands behind her back, and pushed her breasts forward. Like I thought, she had nice sized breasts, sticking straight out, high on her chest. They felt very solid, with soft, pink nipples. I decided to examine her bum next. I stood her up, turned her around, bent her over, and pulled her panties down off her bum. I could see her asshole, and a crack that disappeared into her pubic hair, but I couldn’t see anything inside it. I had her step out of her panties, put her hands on the floor, and open her legs. I had a nice, close-up view of her ass hole, and genital crack. I could see a fringe of red pubic hair around that crack, but I couldn’t see inside it. I decided that since I now owned Amanda, I should probably check out her vagina, so I put my thumbs on each side of her crack, opened up her cunt, and looked inside.

The first thing I saw were two, light pink cunt lips, no more than an inch long, and a light pink clitoris where they met. Her pee hole was also light pink. Her vagina was a pink slit, with a fold of skin across the end, below her little brown asshole. That fold of skin covered the tip of her slit. I took my right hand off her bum, but moved my left thumb further up her crack, and opened her cunt again. This time her vagina also opened slightly, enough to see that there was no membrane protecting it. Of course I’d recently been one of many who congratulated Amanda on turning twenty, so I didn’t expect her to be a virgin. She told me she’d had three sex partners, but had never lived with one, and had broken up with the last one over a month ago. She’d had two dates since then, but she hadn’t had sex. That was great, because for all I knew about Amanda, she could have been living with someone, and could have had sex that morning. I’ve never had ‘sloppy seconds’ and I didn’t intend to start. By now, the middle finger of my right hand was exploring around her vagina, and my thumb was gently rubbing her clitoris. Every time my finger came near her vagina, it closed, then opened. I told her to relax and enjoy my touch. I don’t know if it was my suggestion, or if I opened her cunt more with my thumb, but her vagina opened to a puckered hole, and stayed open. I started to explore just inside her vagina, moving my finger in and out, and side to side. Suddenly, I heard her gasp, “Aaah,” and my finger got wet and slippery. I pushed my finger all the way into Amanda. She gasped again, and breathed out, loudly. I pulled my finger out; she breathed in. I pushed my finger in; she breathed out. Finger out; breathe in. Finger in; breathe out. This beautiful girl was naked, and bent over, in front of me. I was holding her cunt open, and I was controlling her breathing, just moving my finger in and out of her vagina. Amanda had given me total control of her breathing, total control of her life. I almost came in my pants. I looked into her half-closed eyes and said, “Amanda, listen! Surrender to me completely! Now!”

She moan a soft, “aah” a louder, “aaahh” then a loud, “AAAAHH!” Suddenly my finger was very wet, and very slippery. I pushed Amanda down, opened her legs, dropped my pants and underwear, and I fucked my slave girl. Amanda just smiled, and fucked for me. I pumped her a few times, then I couldn’t stop myself, I just had to come, I must’ve shot a gallon into her. She eagerly cleaned my dick in her mouth, then she cleaned her cunt and vagina with the tissue paper I kept beside the couch. I had her stand up, and took a good look at my slave. She had a nice face, and a great body, with firm breasts, a flat stomach, a round, firm bum, and long, thin muscular legs. My hand easily fit into the gap between her upper thighs, but even with her legs open wide, I couldn’t see into her cunt without opening it with my fingers. Of course I could open it whenever I wanted. I explored every part of Amanda’s body, and I mean every part of it. She seemed to think it was perfectly normal for me to examine the inside of her mouth, the inside of her vagina, and even the inside of her bum. She convinced me it was perfectly normal for a slave girl’s master to examine every part of her body. I did everything that I had ever dreamed of doing to a girl. Amanda seemed perfectly happy to let me play with her body. No matter what I did to her, she just smiled, and cooperated. After a few minutes of examining Amanda’s body, I got hard again, so I pulled her into the bedroom, threw her onto the bed, and fucked my slave girl again. I’d already been awake for over two days, but I fucked Amanda a third time before sleeping.

In the morning, I fucked my slave again, then we got dressed. As Amanda made breakfast, I packed a change of clothes. We ate, then I drove her to her apartment. As soon as we were inside, she stripped for me again, I fucked her in her own bed, then had a shower with my slave girl. She kept putting soap on her breasts and rubbing them against me. She used her breasts to wash me, but I’d already fucked her five times, so even that didn’t make me hard. We got dressed, and I drove her to work.

Amanda always made coffee for Stacy. That day I put a pill in it, waited ten minutes, then walked into Stacy’s office. Stacy liked to think that she was very sophisticated. When she was a teenager she had talked George into letting her spend a year at some fancy, French finishing school, and she’d come back acting like some royal princess, better than everyone else. I knew she spent lots of money on her looks, with weekly visits to her hairdresser and some fancy beauty parlor, for “facials”. I never thought they helped much, she was naturally beautiful, except for the ugly sneer she always wore. All she had to do was lose that sneer, and she would be gorgeous. Of course, a smile would have helped too. I mean a friendly smile, not that laughing sneer she wore, every time she suggested that no matter how well I did my job, one of her friends could do better. She thought she had a simple but elegant haircut, shoulder length brown hair, parted in the middle, with just a touch of red. All those “facials” had given her perfect skin, without a mark or blemish anywhere. She had thin, arching, brown eyebrows, over big, brown eyes that could have been gorgeous, if they ever shown even the hint of a smile. She had a thin, straight nose, and full lips she kept a light, almost natural pink. I’m sure she thought lipstick with any hint of red wouldn’t be sophisticated. That mouth, and those lips could also have been gorgeous, but like I said, Stacy always had them twisted into an ugly sneer. It looked like she had a nice body, but she always kept her breasts covered with a sweater, just like my mother used to wear.

I’m sure Stacy came back from that French school thinking that sweaters showed sophistication, on a princess like her. As I walked in, she looked up in surprise, then her lips twisted into an even uglier than usual sneer. She was really pissed off. I could almost hear her screeching, “How dare you enter my office without knocking!” but for sure I didn’t want to hear that.

Before she could make a sound, I said, “Stacy, shut up, and don’t move, just sit still, and be quiet.” Her lips untwisted, and opened in surprise, but she stopped moving and she didn’t make a sound. I looked at her, sitting in her big, leather throne, behind her desk, then noticed the tiny chair she let the peasants sit in, on my side of the desk. No way I was going to sit there. I walked around her desk, and sat down on it, right in front of her. I pushed my right foot between her calves, and lifted it up. My foot was behind her legs, but my ankle slid up between them. The look on her face was great, anger, shock, and disbelief. As my shoe came up between her knees, she looked at it like it was the head of a snake, like she couldn’t believe it was there. I put my foot on her chair, pushed her back a couple of feet, and looked her over, from top to bottom. Her face blushed pink. She was either very angry, embarrassed, or both, but it didn’t matter. I laughed, and gave her the same page of instructions I’d used on Amanda. I told her that it was the most important paper she would ever read, and to read it as if it was a contract. She took it and started to read. At first she looked angry, then her expression changed to surprise, then she closed her eyes and calmed down. She read the paper twice, then I had another conversation with a pretty girl, about her duties as my slave. There was no sneer on Stacy’s face as she promised to obey the four orders forever, and to be my slave for the rest of her life. She very calmly told me she existed only to please me, and promised never do anything that might displease me, or harm me. She smiled as she agreed to do everything she could, to prevent me being harmed, or displeased. Then we talked about sex. She actually laughed as she said, “I should be naked. Can I strip for you, Master?” I shook my head, and asked how she felt about being my slave. She replied, “I’ve always known you were attracted to me. I thought it was funny, but now I’m happy that I can please you.” She assured me I would enjoy owning her; enjoy watching her strip, and especially enjoy sex with her.

Stacy was showing me a beautiful smile, but I remembered her usual sneer. I stood up and said, “Come here, Slave!”

She stood up, and walked forward until her breasts, stomach and thighs pressed against me. Then she tilted her head up, looked in my eyes and asked, “How may I serve you, Master? Want me to strip? Want to fuck me? Anything you want.”

I opened her mouth, and French kissed her. Then I looked at her stereo, and asked if she had music suitable for stripping. She went over to her stereo. I sat down on her couch, and watched her. Slow music started to play, and Stacy started to dance. She pushed her sweater over her head and off her arms. Then she unhooked and unzipped her skirt. It slid down to her ankles. She was wearing a red bra and matching panties set, with charcoal stockings. She told me that stockings let her cunt breathe. She rolled her stockings down to her feet, and pushed them off, taking her skirt and shoes with them. Then she put her arms behind her back, and unhooked her bra. I watched her bra loosen, and slide down her arms, and the cups slide off her breasts. I was a bit disappointed; Stacy’s breasts were obviously smaller than Amanda’s. I asked, “Exactly how big are your breasts?”

She looked down, and whispered. “My breasts … are only A cups, Master,” She looked up with a question in her eyes. “Are they too small, Master?” She sounded nervous, “I must be your slave… please, Master … I’ll have them made bigger.”

I looked back down at her breasts. They were a bit small, but they were also high on her chest, and they didn’t bounce, and they didn’t jiggle. I said, “No, they’re fine Slave, finish stripping.” She put her thumbs in her panties, pushed them down, and stepped out of them. Then she stood up straight, with her arms at her sides and asked if I’d like to examine her body. Wow, this drug was great stuff. Stacy had always been a bitch, nothing but a bitch. She was spoiled, lazy, and self-centered. She didn’t care about anybody but herself and a few friends, all bitches. She’d never done anything but whine and complain. Of course, after George had made her the boss, I had also heard insulting comments and sneering orders, like she was royalty, and I was a servant she hated. But after a dose of Ann’s drug, and a few orders, she was purring and squirming like a kitten, and as friendly as a puppy. She was my slave girl, standing naked in front of me, smiling, friendly, and offering me her body. I reached out with both hands and grabbed her breasts. Her only reaction was a big smile. The feeling was incredible, I don’t think I could ever feel better than I felt at that moment. But as happy as I was to see Stacy naked, to own her as my slave girl, and to be playing with her breasts, Stacy looked just as happy. She giggled, “Do you like me, Master? Do you like me?”

She seemed eager for me to do more, so I slid my hands around to her bum, grabbed a cheek with each hand, and pulled. My slave girl squished against me. Her lips touched mine, and opened. I slid my tongue in her mouth, and French kissed her. She squirmed against me, and kissed me back. A minute later, I pulled her to the couch, lay her on her back, opened her legs, and fingered her. Stacy was all juiced up and ready to fuck, so I dropped my pants and underwear, lowered myself onto her, and rammed my penis into her. She didn’t wait for orders. As soon as my penis was all the way inside, Stacy started to fuck. She pushed her hips against me, squeezed her vagina, and pulled it half way down my penis. Then she relaxed her vagina, pushed, squeezed, and pulled again, … and again, … and again. It was like she was milking my penis. She milked every drop of cum out of me. It was an amazing feeling to have my dick milked dry. When I had walked into Stacy’s office, I still didn’t know if I wanted to keep her. I had considered turning her into a hooker, or some ugly guy’s sex toy, to make the bitch suffer. Now I decided to keep Stacy. She was a great fuck, better than a totally obedient Ann, better than an eager to please Amanda. I wondered if this stuck up little bitch had some secret passion that made her fuck like that, or if she always fucked like that. So I asked, “That was great, Stacy, I’ve never been milked before. Do you always fuck like that? or was that a special fuck?”

She smiled with obvious pleasure and answered, “This is the first time that I’ve made love like that, Master. I read about doing it … like that … in some woman’s magazine. I think the article was ‘How to Please Your Man.’ I laughed at it then, but now I know that it was fate, I was learning how to please you.” She stopped smiling, looked into my eyes, and continued, “I don’t understand why, but it doesn’t matter, you own me. I’m your slave, and I exist only to please you.” She looked even more serious, “I promise you, you really do own me,” Then she grinned, “and I’ll fuck like that whenever you want, Master.”

Yes, I was definitely going to keep Stacy. I just regretted that I’d fucked Amanda five times. I was going to have to rest, before I could manage to fuck Stacy again. As we waited, I had my slave girl describe, and tell me about, her female friends. She told me that Christine would be coming to her office before noon, to take her to lunch, and suggested that I might enjoy owning her. Stacy told me that Christine had the best legs of any of her friends, and that she had always thought that if she was a lesbian, Christine would be her first choice for a lover. Stacy volunteered to help me use the drug to own Christine.

I had Stacy dress and get back to work. I realized I would have to rest. I would soon own Amanda, Stacy, and Christine, and I would need all my strength for the three-girl sex party I’d be having in Stacy’s office that afternoon. I went for a walk in the mall across the street from our building, but didn’t realize how different it would be. Whenever I walked around a mall, I always glanced at beautiful women, and took sneaking glances at the groups of teenage girls. But this time it was different. Whenever I saw a beautiful woman, the thought slammed into my head; “I could own that!” And whenever I saw a group of teenage girls, I couldn’t help thinking, “I could own them all. I could fuck them all.” My whole view of women had changed. I was no longer just looking at women and girls. I was now looking at women and girls that I could own. I started looking at every woman and girl as a potential slave, imagining how much fun it would be to own her. I started to plan. Stacy was rich, and I owned her, so I was rich. I could open a restaurant in the mall, with private booths and a teen-age menu, cheap enough to attract single women and teen-age girls. Then I could use the drug on women, and on whole groups of girls. I was sure it wouldn’t take more than a few months before I would own hundreds of beautiful women and girls, as slaves. Then I walked into Teresa’s, the one mall restaurant with booths, and I changed my mind. There were five waitresses, four beautiful girls, and one beautiful woman around thirty, who seemed to be in charge. I wondered if she was Teresa. I also wondered if I could use the drug to own her, her girls, and her restaurant. I could have some very interesting staff parties. I’d also have access to any customers I wanted to own. There was already an interesting group eating there. A beautiful thirtyish woman was eating with two beautiful teenage girls. Could they be a mother and her daughters? I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to own them, to watch them dance and strip for me, and have the right, as their master, to fuck them whenever I wanted.

I walked back to the office before 11:00, right into Stacy’s office. She smiled and said, “Hello, Master, want to fuck me?” Stacy had been a bitch, beautiful, but a bitch. I regretted not taking the time to humble her, before changing her into my slave. It would have been fun to watch Stacy squirm, to have her understand what was happening to her, but not be able to stop it. Christine was another beautiful bitch. I worked out a plan with Stacy, to humble Christine before I changed her into my slave. Christine got off the elevator around 11:45. Amanda greeted her, showed her into Stacy’s office and gave her drugged coffee. Stacy got on her intercom, and ordered me to her office. When I came in, she asked if I had arranged to introduce Christine to my contacts in Asia. Stacy confirmed that Christine would be the company’s new Asian buyer, she officially had my job. Christine gave me a smug little ‘I win. You lose!’ smile. For 10 minutes, Stacy kept taking about Christine and my contacts, then she turned to Christine. “Chris, from now on, you work directly for our vice-president of purchasing.” Christine looked confused. She asked who that was. Stacy replied, “You know him. He’s right here. Bob is our vice-president of purchasing. From now on, you work for Bob.” I watched shock and disbelief spread over her face. I was right; this was going to be fun. Stacy continued, “Yes Chris, from now on, Bob is your boss. And he isn’t just your boss at work. He is the boss of your life. He is your boss in every way possible, 24, 7, 365. Obey him and cooperate with him one hundred and ten percent of the time. From now on, Chris, whenever Bob tells you to do something, obey him instantly, no hesitation, no questions, just obey him, understand?” Christine’s face turned white as paper. Stacy repeated, “understand?” Christine nodded her head up and down. Stacy continued, “From now on, do everything you can to cooperate with Bob. Whenever he does something, help him do it. Especially if he does something to you, don’t resist, just cooperate with him, understand?” Christine nodded her head again.

Christine didn’t look so smug now. She looked confused and scared, very confused and very scared. I smiled at her. Stacy finished talking, “Chris, your job starts now. Convince your boss you will cooperate with him and obey him, now!”

Christine turned to me. She looked down, and mumbled, “You are my boss. I will cooperate with you, and obey you.”

I laughed, “I think Stacy told you to convince me, not just to tell me. Let’s see now … how could you convince me?”

Her head whipped up. She stared at me and stammered, “You don’t want me to strip for you … or anything? … please?”

“That’s OK, Chris, I don’t want you to strip. But just for the record, what would you do, if I did want you to strip?”

Her face turned white again. She looked down and mumbled, “I … I think … I would strip for you.”

“Did you say ‘think’? You ‘think’ you would strip for me?”

I could almost hear her brain click, as she accepted the truth. She blinked up at me, and said, “I would strip for you, Sir.”

I laughed again, “Well, like I said, I don’t want you to strip for me, just come over here and stand in front of me.”

Her face was still white. She had trouble standing, She seemed a bit shaky, but she struggled to her feet, walked over, stood in front of me, and stared at the floor. Tears rolled down both cheeks. “Bob … Sir? What … what else must I do, Sir?”

I lifted her face up, looked into her shiny, wet eyes and said, “Anything I want. Now I’ve got good news, and bad news. The good news is, you don’t have to strip. Bad news is, that’s because I’m going to strip you. It’ll be more fun to strip you.”

I reached out to her chest. Her head tilted down, as she watched me unbutton her blouse. Several tears fell on my hands, but she didn’t do anything to stop me. After the last button, I pulled her blouse out of her skirt. She was wearing a white bra. I noticed dents on the sides of her bra cups, and told her that the dents didn’t hold much promise for what was inside her bra. She looked up at me. I saw anger in her face. I think she was proud of her breasts and didn’t like having their size questioned. I assured her I wouldn’t judge her breasts until I had taken off her bra. I unbuttoned her cuffs, put my hands inside her blouse, and ran them down her arms. Her blouse dropped to the floor. I reached around her, unhooked her bra and slid it off her arms. Her bra dropped to the floor. I said, “Now I can judge your breasts, Chris.” Her head tilted down. She watched my hands examine her breasts and nipples. Her breasts were a bit small, but her nipples were almost as big as the tips of my thumbs. She had creamy white breasts, almost as high as her shoulders, so firm they were almost hard, tipped with big, brown nipples. She confirmed that the dents in her bra cups had been because she usually wore an over-sized bra, to protect her big nipples. At first her nipples were soft. I could easily push them into her breasts. Then they got bigger, and harder. She looked away. She was blinking back tears again. I turned her face to me, said, “Cooperate with me,” and kissed her mouth. Her lips opened. I put my arms around her, grabbed her bum, and pulled. She squished against me, then I explored her mouth with my tongue.

When I stopped kissing her, she stared at me for a moment, then asked, “Do you want me to be … your girlfriend, Sir?”

I laughed, “No, thank you. I’m afraid you’re going to be a lot more than my girlfriend, you’re going to be my slave girl.” I thought that I’d better change Christine into my slave, before I took off the rest of her clothes, and before the drug wore off. I didn’t know how long the drug lasted, but I knew that if I stripped her now, I’d fuck her, and after that, it might be too late to make her my slave. So I gave her the paper that had worked so well on Amanda and Stacy, and told her to read it carefully.

She read the paper twice, turned to me and said, “I understand, Sir. I’m not your girlfriend, I’m your slave, you own me.” We had a nice talk about her duties as my slave. She convinced me she would remember and obey the four orders, forever. Then she suggested that because her duties included sex, I should I finish stripping her, then examine her body, and fuck her.

I reached around behind her, loosened the hook and zipper of her skirt, and let it slide down her legs, down to the floor. Stacy was right, Christine had beautiful legs. She had nicely curved thighs and calves, with unblemished, creamy-white skin. I had her step out of her skirt and shoes, put my thumbs in the waistband of her panties, and pushed them slowly off her bum. I slid her panties to the floor, had her step out of them, then I slid my hands back up her legs, and checked out her pubic hair. She had a tiny puff of black pubic hair, but not enough to make a triangle, and I couldn’t feel any hair at all between her legs. There was only a hint of peach fuzz on her thighs. It was obvious that Christine didn’t have to shave her legs or bikini line. She had thick, black hair on her head, but had hardly any hair anywhere else on her body. I had her lie down on the couch, and open her legs for me. As Christine spread her legs, her little cunt opened right up. I examined her cunt, and her ass hole. She had a beautiful cunt, with little brown cunt lips and clitoris, and a little brown vagina I could barely squeeze a finger into.

Christine wasn’t white-faced or teary-eyed now. She was smiling, and her vagina was wet and slippery, so I fucked her. I decided to fuck Stacy next, and have Amanda and Christine watch. Stacy showed, and explained, how to milk a penis dry.

That afternoon, Amanda, then Christine proved she had learned how to milk my penis, then Stacy took us out for supper. We spent the night in Stacy’s apartment. I managed to fuck all three girls before falling asleep, but only Christine and Stacy in the morning. Stacy had a shower big enough for us all so I had Amanda show the girls how to use their breasts to wash me, and soon had six soapy breasts rubbing me clean. The girls used their breasts to wash every part of my body, several times. The shower felt great, but it would take a crane to get my penis up again. Over breakfast, I told the girls about the restaurant in the mall. Stacy knew Teresa, who was obviously the woman I had seen. In fact Teresa regularly invited Stacy out to lunch. I had Stacy phone Teresa and arrange to take me, our new company vice president, for lunch with her. The girls went to work in Christine’s BMW. I kept the keys to Stacy’s Mercedes. I would rest for the morning, and meet Stacy at the mall for lunch.

Stacy sat with Teresa, on one side of the booth, while I sat on the other side. Teresa had a salad and a glass of diet Coke for lunch. I distracted her for a second, and Stacy dropped a pill into her drink. The girls talked and gossiped for ten minutes, then I gave Teresa my ‘slave paper’. She looked shocked but she took it, read it twice, then she agreed to be my slave forever. As we talked about the first three orders, she kept glancing at our waitress, but she’d told her to leave us alone, and she did. As we discussed the fourth order, she looked straight into my eyes, and promised to be available for sex, whenever I wanted.

I had her take me to her office, and couldn’t help watching her bum move as she lead me in. I closed the door behind us, and had just started turning back to her, when I felt her breasts, stomach, and legs press against me. I finished turning to her, and looked into her eyes, about three inches away, staring right back into mine. She whispered, “Do you want me, Master?” with a look on her face I can only describe as ‘fuck me.’ Her mouth was open, partly puckered for a kiss, and partly smiling. There was an eager, pleading look in her eyes. The drug and paper had worked wonders on her; she wanted to fuck right now.

I said, “Stay like this for a minute, and let me check out your face.” She sighed, lifted her face a bit, and closed her eyes. Obviously she didn’t know that checking out a girl’s face includes checking out her eyes. I added, “Open your eyes, Slave,” and her eyes quickly opened. Now she was staring back at me. Her ‘fuck me’ look was gone. Now she was just a slave girl, showing her face to her master. I carefully examined every part of her face. Usually girls object to men examining their faces. If a girl loves you, she might want you admire her face, but every girl will object to a really close look. That’s the real reason a man takes pictures of his girlfriend, especially nude pictures, so that he can check out the girl, without her calling him a pig. I felt the texture of her hair. I felt the smoothness of her cheeks, her chin, and her forehead. I opened her mouth and examined her lips, her tongue, and her two sets of perfect teeth. I examined her nose. I examined her eyes, including both upper eyelids, and both bottom eyelids. I even touched her eyes. She didn’t object, but her eyes did get shiny with tears as I examined them. Still, she didn’t even twitch until I’d examined both eyes, then all she did was blink her tears away. I examined Teresa’s face close enough to offend any girl ten times over, maybe a thousand times over. Of course we both knew that she was my slave, and we both knew that she couldn’t object. It felt great knowing I could do anything I wanted to her, and she wouldn’t object.

Finally I put my arm around her, took her to the middle of the room, stepped back, and looked her over, from head to toe. She knew I was checking her out, I didn’t bother to hide it. She just smiled, and asked, “Want me to strip for you, Master?”

I answered, “No, I’d rather strip you myself. You just tell me about yourself, while I strip you. And tell me everything. Don’t hold anything back, and don’t get embarrassed. If you think I’d like to know something about you, tell me all about it.” As I reached around her, to unzip her little black dress, Teresa started talking. By the time her dress was on the floor, I knew that she was 36 and Italian, she had divorced ‘the lazy bum’ over a year ago, and since then, she’d been much to busy to date.

Teresa obviously loved black. She was wearing nothing but black, a black lace bra, black panties, and black pantyhose. As I reached around to unhook her bra, she seemed to be hesitating, so I said, “Go on,” and by the time her bra hit the floor, she had admitted that even though she hadn’t really had sex since her divorce, she masturbated every night, before sleeping. As I checked out her breasts, she bragged about how successful she was, she owned the restaurant, a two-bedroom apartment, and had over half a million in stocks and bonds. She also owned big, soft breasts, with light brown nipples. Since she was 36, I’d been worried that her breasts might have sagged flat, into floppy bags, but she explained that her breasts were still ‘perky’ because she’d never been pregnant. As I rolled her pantyhose down, she told me that ‘the bum’ didn’t get a penny from her, but I could. As I checked out her legs, she offered me her restaurant, her apartment, and her money. I was just glad to see she had smooth, unblemished legs. When she’d told me she was 36, I’d worried her legs might have those cottage-cheese lumps on the back, but her legs had nice smooth curves. As I reached for her panties, she looked a bit nervous, and I wondered why. She had already agreed to be my slave forever, she had volunteered to strip, and her hug had definitely volunteered to fuck. But it almost looked like she didn’t want me to take off her panties. Of course she wouldn’t stop me, so I pushed them down, and was greeted by a huge mass of black pubic curls. She looked away, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Master. I haven’t worn a bathing suit for so long, and I haven’t trimmed myself ‘there’ for so long. I’m sorry.” I laughed. She’d only been worried that I might not like her untrimmed bush. I told her it was beautiful, but if she wanted, I d help her to trim it, or shave it off, later. She stepped out of her panties, pressed her breasts against me, and puckered her lips, but I didn’t want her red lipstick on me. There was a black leather couch against the wall to my right. She told me she sometimes took naps on it. I lead her over to it, had her lie down on her back, and open her legs for me. She had one of those cunts that doesn’t open by itself, so I opened it. Her cunt lips and clitoris were the same light brown as her nipples, but everything inside her cunt was a sort of darkish pink.

Then I surprised myself. Teresa was my slave girl. She was beautiful, naked and more than willing, but I didn’t fuck her. I’d never before had so much sex that I could have resisted fucking a pretty girl, especially the first time I’d seen her naked. But I had Teresa get dressed, and we sent for her staff, one at a time. Her entire staff was made up of young, attractive girls. Each time a girl came into her office, Teresa gave her a cup of what she claimed was a new brand of coffee they would serve. It turned out Teresa was behind on some tax and benefits paperwork for her staff, and asked each girl to fill out some papers.

Ten minutes later, Teresa would introduce me to the girl, and I’d order her to read and study the slave paper I’d written. Each girl looked surprised when I handed her my paper and ordered her to read it, but I suspect her biggest surprise was that she obeyed. Every girl started to read looking shocked, then she closed, then opened her eyes, and calmly finished reading. After the girl had agreed to be my slave forever, and convinced me she would remember, and obey, the four orders forever, I took a good look at her face. I had already examined Teresa’s face closely enough to offend any girl a thousand times over. I examined every girl’s face just as closely, but by the time I examined her face, she’d already agreed to be my slave forever. Every girl let me examine her face as closely as I wanted. The amazing thing was that every girl also let me strip her naked, and examine her body as closely as I had examined her face. None of the girls had any objection to me examining her body, as closely and carefully as I wanted. Then I had my slave girl get dressed and return to work, and Teresa sent for the next girl.

I promised myself that no matter how beautiful any girl was, I wouldn’t decide which to fuck first, until I owned them all. That was a hard promise to keep, especially since Teresa sent for Stephanie first. Stephanie was a beautiful, blue eyed blond, with blond eyebrows and real, blond pubic hair. Her pubic hair was so blond, I could see the start of her cunt, right through it. I’d never fucked a girl with such blond pubic hair, so unless one of the other girls had a spectacular body, Stephanie would be the first to serve me. Brittany was next. She had a beautiful, natural smile, and she showed it to me every time I looked at her. I stripped her, and ran my hands over every part of her slim, teenage body. Every part of her body felt very smooth and firm. Her breasts were two, thin cones, sticking straight out from her chest. I could actually bend them. Her bum looked a bit small, but it was smooth, and so hard I could hardly dent her bum cheeks as I ran my hand down, between them. Then came Nicole, another blond. She had an even better smile, with a mouth that naturally turned up. She was the most feminine of the girls, with big soft breasts. She wasn’t fat but as I stripped her, and ran my hands over her, every part of her felt soft and smooth. The only problem with Nicole was that even though she was a natural blond, her eyebrows and pubic hair were dark brown. Mary was the last of this shift’s girls. She had soft, chocolate brown skin, gray eyes, big, soft breasts, and a big, soft bum. Teresa volunteered to help me drug the six girls on the other shifts, then I had her leave, and send Stephanie in. Each of my new slaves was beautiful. Each had a nice face, and a nice body, but Stephanie was my first real blond, so I fucked her first.

I arranged to have Teresa bring the four girls to Stacy’s apartment after work, then I went back to the apartment to rest, and wait for my slaves to come. Around 4:30, Teresa and her girls arrived. I’d just finished stripping those five girls naked, when Stacy, Chris and Amanda came home, so of course I stripped them too. We spent the evening having contests among the girls, contests like: best eyes (Mary), best mouth (Nicole), best kisser (Teresa), best breasts (also Nicole), best bum (Brittany), best cunt (Christine), best fucker (Stacy), and a many other contests. Each girl eagerly participated in the contests, then found a place to sleep. Christine and Stephanie slept in the bed, with me. In the morning, the girls took turns showering with me, in groups of two or three. Amanda taught every girl how to wash me with her breasts. I had to laugh with Christine. Her big nipples kept getting hard, and in the way. I agreed to let her make the best of it by using her nipples to clean my face.

After the girls had gone to work, I started thinking about people I knew. One was a divorced woman I’d sometimes dated. Jan was five years older than me, but she jogged most days and still looked nice. But that’s not why I dated her. The fact is, I was addicted to fantasizing about her two beautiful daughters, Jill, a 18-year-old blond, and Joyce, a 17-year-old brunette. They both had big, gorgeous, brown eyes, full lips, and from what I’d seen, nice bodies. Of course I never touched either girl. Jan would’ve had me arrested. I thought about how different it could be with Jan and her girls, with the mind control drug. It would certainly be different in Jan’s house if I owned her. And if I also owned her daughters, her house would be paradise.

I phoned Jan. She seemed happy to hear from me and agreed to go out with me, but didn’t want her daughters to see me picking her up, so we agreed to meet at Teresa’s. I was in a back booth when she came in, and showed me a beautiful smile. She sat down opposite me, but didn’t offer me a hello kiss, she just held her hand out on the table, When I reached across, and took her hand, she smiled at me again and let me hold it. I’m sure she suspected that I had asked her out because I wanted a more serious relationship. I had to admit that even at 38, she was still beautiful. Several times I’d thought about asking her to marry me, but then we’d have sex. She probably thought it was fine, but it was awful. After sex, I didn’t want to marry her. Even to be near her gorgeous daughters, I didn’t want to marry her. But here she was, smiling at me, and looking beautiful. She was thrilled when I ordered the most expensive wine (drugged of course), smiled again, and suggested we drink to us. She spent ten minutes telling me what I had to do, to be with her. Then I stopped her with, “Shut up, Jan, and don’t move.” She gave me an angry glare, but she also stopped talking, and didn’t move. I gave her my slave paper, and told her to read it. She took it and started to read. After a few seconds, I watched her eyes and mouth opened in disbelief, but her eyes were still moving, she was still reading. I had to smile. I knew that Jan had just seen the word, slave. Every girl who’d read that paper had reacted to the word, slave, but every one of them had also kept on reading, and every one of them had become my slave. Seconds later, I watched Jan close her eyes and relax. Then I watched her open her eyes, finish the paper, and read it again.

Finally she looked at me with a confused frown and whispered, “I’m … a slave … I’m your slave, Bob … You own me.” She hesitated, then smiled and added, “or should I call you Master?” I nodded, and she whispered, “Yes, Master.” I stood up, stepped around the table, sat beside her, and put my hand on her thigh. She looked at my hand and asked, “Is this about sex?” I nodded. She smiled, “Then you get sex.” She told me what she’d do, to obey the first order, and promised to obey it forever. Next she explained, and agreed to obey, the second order, then the third order. As she agreed to obey the fourth order forever, her lips curled up into a smile as she added, “I’ll fuck like a rabbit for you, Master.” I knew Jan had always been a feminist, so to hear her offer to ‘fuck like a rabbit’ was amazing. But I told her that I was more interested in owning Jill, and Joyce. She looked disappointed, but she agreed that I should own her daughters. She looked even more disappointed when I told her the sex I wanted was with her daughters, not her, but she agreed that if I owned them, I could obviously have sex with them. She told me Jill would be home by 3:30, but Joyce had practice until 8:00. We made plans to change them both into slaves.

Jan had a big, basement rec-room. When Jill came home, she went down there. Jan took her some drugged lemonade. As I waited, I thought about Jill. She had no problem getting boys, but always brought home dirty, foul-mouthed, ass-holes. Ten minutes later, I went downstairs. I’d decided to have some fun with Jill, so I sat right beside her, hip-to-hip close to her. I’d never dared sit nearly this close to her before. She turned and glared at me. I told her that her mother and I had agreed on a new relationship between her family and me. She looked confused, then smiled and asked, “You’re going to marry Mom?”

Jill was very beautiful, but beside Joyce, she was usually ignored. It’s hard to define beauty, because the two girl’s faces were very similar. They both had a slim face, with a generous mouth, big, warm brown eyes, and a short, flat forehead. Jill was blond, while Joyce had light brown hair, but being blond should be a plus for Jill. Another difference was Jill’s eyes closed to little slits when she smiled or laughed, while Joyce’s eyes stayed round. Jill always had a much bigger smile, and it always looked real, while her sister’s smile always looked a bit fake. Jill’s happy smile should also be a plus for her.

As far as I could see, the only minus for Jill was her nose was slightly bigger. But Joyce was definitely the prettier girl, so I guess that was enough. Anyway, it looked like Jill really was happy at the thought that I was going to marry her mother. She had a big, happy smile on her lips, and in her eyes. So I tried to look disappointed, as I told her, “Well, not quite, Jill.”

She looked confused again. She hesitated, then said, “She didn’t agree to let you move in? … No way … not my mom.”

She seemed pretty confident of that, so I said, “You’re right, Jill, she didn’t agree to that, she agreed to something better. Your mother agreed to spend the rest of her life as my slave.”

She blinked twice, then laughed, “Yeah, right … your slave … Mom agreed to be your slave … now tell me the truth.”

I smiled, “That is the truth, and she also agreed that I could own you and Joyce as my slaves.”

Her eyes opened. She was glaring at me again, as she hissed, “That’s not funny.”

I smiled again, “It’s not supposed to be, Jill, now listen to me. From now on, for the rest of your life, don’t do anything that you think might displease me, or harm me. Don’t make the slightest move, or the tiniest sound that could displease me, or harm me in any way.” She was still glaring at me. I added, “I want to know if you understand. Tell me if you understand.”

She opened her mouth, still glaring at me. Then she closed it, opened it again, frowned, and whispered, “I understand.”

I took a deep breath. I was going to change Jill into my slave, and was going to start … now. I said, “Listen to me, Jill, for the rest of your life, never do anything you think will displease me or harm me. Now agree to obey that order forever. Promise me you’ll obey that order forever. Agree to never displease me, or harm me, for the rest of your life, out loud, now. ”

She wasn’t glaring at me now; she had a pleading look in her eyes. At first she made a high pitched whine, “Mmmmm,” but when she spoke, it was loud and clear, “I … agree to … never displease you … or harm you … for the rest of my life.”

I put my right hand on her left thigh. She looked at my hand and gasped, but more importantly, her legs didn’t move. The most important signal a girl can give a man is to allow him to touch her legs, and not to slam them shut when he does. Jill’s knees stayed about six inches apart. I said, “Listen to me, Jill. I’m going to be giving you orders. As soon as you know what I want you to do, do it. I’m also going to be doing some things to you. Don’t resist, just let me move you around, and do whatever I want to you. Now Jill, I want you to agree to that. Agree to obey me and let me do anything I want to you, now.”

She looked at me with the funniest expression on her face, a combination of surprise, confusion and fear, but after a few seconds she open her mouth again, and clearly said, “I agree to obey you … and let you do … anything you want … to me.”

I asked her, “Mind if I open you legs first?” It looked like she was trying to talk, but she didn’t make a sound. I said, “OK Jill, as long as you don’t mind,” and I pulled her knee closer, right over to the edge of the couch, as far as it would go. Then I slid my hand between her legs, onto her inner thigh. She gasped again, but she still didn’t move. She just stared at me.

Jill was wearing tight, low jeans, and a T-shirt that said, ‘2 Cute’ over her breasts. I asked, “Mind if I open your jeans?” She didn’t object. Her jeans were so tight that the button almost popped open by itself, and when I lifted the tab of her zipper, it started down by itself. I opened the zipper to her crotch, and saw a ‘V’ of plain, white panties. There was about an inch from her T-shirt to the top of her jeans, and another two inches to the top of her panties. She had a very smooth, flat stomach. I put my hand on her stomach, over her belly butt, and instantly felt her whole body tighten. I asked, “Mind if I put my hand in your panties?” She didn’t make a sound, so I slid my hand under her panties, down through her pubic hair, into her crack. Her eyes flicked to my hand, then back to my eyes. My wrist started to hurt. It was bent over backwards, pushing down hard against the waistband of her panties. I hadn’t expected this to hurt. I continued, “You will cooperate with me, and obey me, for the rest of your life. From now on, you are going to be my willing and obedient slave. Tell me if you understand.”

She did that high, humming “Mmmm” again, this time very loud, then she stopped, and almost yelled, “I understand.”

I said, “Now agree to cooperate with me and obey me for the rest of your life. Agree to be my willing slave forever.”

She had that pleading look in her eyes again. For a second it looked like she might cry but she didn’t, she just clearly said, “I agree to cooperate with you, … and obey you … for the rest of my life ... I agree to be … your willing slave … forever.”

I pushed her jeans and panties down as far as they’d go, with her sitting on the couch. At least I could see the top half of her pubic triangle. It was light brown, not as blond I’d hoped. I shoved my hand back in her panties. This time I easily pushed a finger right down, into her cunt, and started rubbing her cunt and clitoris. As soon as I touched her clitoris she gasped, “oo.” As I played with her clit, she flapped her hands on her thighs, squeaking “oo” with every flap. She wasn’t obeying my order not to move or make a sound, but it was fun sitting there, fingering her cunt, and watching her flap, squeaking “oo, oo, oo.”

I was just sitting there, fingering her cunt, when suddenly, her whole body stiffened up. She opened her mouth, gasped, and closed her eyes. Then she started rubbing her clitoris against my hand, groaning, “Ahh ... Ahh. ... Ahh.” Suddenly I felt her clitoris press against my hand, as she gasped a longer, slower, louder, “Ahhhhhh.” I felt her cunt shiver against my hand a few more times, then stop. I don’t know what I’d expected, but for sure not an orgasm. I looked at Jill’s face and saw that she was blushing. Obviously she was embarrassed, but that didn’t matter. I was curious about her orgasm, and asked about it. She said, “When you touched me ‘there’, I knew you’d like me to have an orgasm, so I had one for you.” I was still curious, and asked if she faked it. “No, I just made myself relax and let it happen. I have to let it happen whenever you want, Master.”

I had Jill put her arms over her head. She didn’t make a sound as I pulled her T-shirt up, over her head, and off her arms. Her arms dropped to her sides. She was wearing a frilly, dark pink bra. I decided to take it off next, and check out her breasts. I reached around her, unhooked her bra, slid it down her arms, and dropped it on the floor. I’d seen Jan’s breasts, in the dark, even touched them as we’d made love, but Jill’s breasts definitely looked better than Jan’s, gently curving out on the top, and round as half circles on the bottom. I’d thought that Jan had nice breasts, but Jill’s breasts looked, and felt, even better. She told me she had C cups ‘like Mom’ but they looked bigger than Jan’s, probably because they were harder, and higher. Her areolas were so light, I could hardly see them, with light pink nipples, as big as the tips of my thumbs. I put my mouth around her left nipple, and started to lick. She started squeaking “oo, oo, oo,” again. But this time her squeaking bothered me, so I released her nipple long enough to tell her to be quiet, then put my mouth back over her nipple and started licking again. I felt her getting bigger, and harder, inside my mouth. Finally I looked over at her right nipple. It was also bigger and harder, sticking straight out from her breast. I stopped licking and said, “Now tell the truth, Jill, didn’t some part of you enjoy that?”

I heard another high, “Mmmm…” then a tiny, “Yes.”

I decided to finish changing Jill into my slave before stripping her naked. If I stripped her now, I’d fuck her, but I wanted to own her first. I gave her the paper I had written for Amanda, but now Jill was the ninth girl to read it. A few minutes later, a much calmer Jill convinced me she would obey the four orders, and be my slave forever. As we discussed the fourth order, she squirmed, but she agreed that pleasing me obviously included sex. I said, “Stand,” and watched her obey. She stood up. I tucked my thumbs in panties, slid them down to her ankles and examined her bum. Jill had a big, round bum. It was a bit bigger than I’d imagined, but when I squeezed her bum cheeks, they felt nice and firm. I decided I liked her big, beautiful ass. Unfortunately, her legs were also big and round. Her thighs were just a bit too big, and her calves were also just a bit too big. I usually like thin girls. I can’t think of anything more beautiful than a nice, hand-sized gap between a beautiful girl’s thighs. Jill only had a little gap, at the top of her thighs. Don’t get me wrong, Jill had a very nice body, with big, beautiful breasts, and a big, beautiful bum. It’s just that I’d imagined her body would be absolutely perfect, but her legs were just a bit too big. Her body was probably a 9, just not the 10 I’d imagined. But I had hopes for Joyce; she was thinner, and much more athletic. I laughed, remembering that Jill was 18. I could’ve gone to jail for just touching her. And I’d done way more than touch her. I’d stripped her naked, examined her breasts, sucked on her nipples, fingered her cunt, and I was definitely going to fuck her.

I’d dreamed of Jill for two years, and now I actually owned her. She was my slave. She might’ve had slightly big thighs, but I was too far-gone to worry about it. My dick was so hard I thought it might pop. I just had to fuck this girl. The rec-room had a chair and a little couch, much too small for comfortable sex, but I had already planned to walk Jill up to her own room, to her own bed. We got as far as the first step of the stairs. When she was on the first step I turned her around. I couldn’t wait, I just had to kiss her, just a little kiss, after all, I owned her. I told her to cooperate with me, and pushed my lips up to her lips. Her lips pressed against mine and opened. Her breasts squished on my chest, her stomach pressed against me, her knees slid outside my knees, and her inner thighs pressed against the outsides of my legs. This was definitely the best kiss I’d ever had; a full body kiss. Then I had a nasty thought. I pulled back, and asked her, “Have you ever kissed someone like this before?”

She looked shocked, “No … no … of course not. If I ever kissed a boy like that … he’d know … he’d know he could … you know … make love to me ... it’d be like asking him … begging him to make love to me ... No way … I’d never do that!”

I smiled, “Yes you would, Jill, you just did it. You kissed me like that, just a few seconds ago.”

She looked into my eyes. “Yes, of course … I’m your slave ... I have to kiss you like that, Master, whenever you want.”

I pressed my mouth back onto hers. She opened her lips again, and squished the whole front of her body against me.

I pulled away, looked up, into her eyes, and said, “Tell me, Slave, are you doing everything you can to please me?”

A small frown appeared on her face. “Um … everything? … um … well … I guess I could …”

“You’re a slave, and you’re a girl. You’re my slave girl. Please your master, Slave Girl. And don’t tell me, show me!”

Her mouth and body pressed against me again. I slid my tongue in, and felt her tongue pressing and rubbing against it. She started sliding up and down against me, and every time she slid down, her hips squished against my hips, with a squirm that sent a clear message. I pushed my pants and boxers down and slid into her. Her vagina was all juiced up, and ready to go.

I pumped her a few times on the stairs, then pulled out, thinking, “I’m supposed to wait, and screw her in her own bed.” Then I thought, “She’s my slave now. I own her. I can screw her here, I can screw her there, I can screw her anywhere I want, whenever I want. What the hell.” I slid back into her, but only managed to pump her three more times, before I shot my load. She didn’t wait to be told. Right away she dropped down onto her knees, slid her lips around my penis, and licked me clean. I stood her up, turned her around, put my hand on her bum, with my middle finger in her crack, and took her up to her room. When we got there, I noticed that my cum was dribbling down the insides of her legs. It had dribbled down to her left knee, and almost down to her right knee. There was a pair of panties lying on her dresser, so I grabbed them, and wiped her clean. I took off my clothes, pushed her down on her bed, opened her legs, climbed on top of her, and fucked my slave girl properly, in her own bed. Jill had given me a nice, soft, smooth fuck on the stairs, but she was an even softer, smoother fuck in a bed. Jill was definitely the most comfortable ride I’d ever had. Obviously, her big breasts, bum, and thighs had their advantages.

Twice was enough with Jill. I took her downstairs, sat on the couch with her, turned on the TV, and sent Jan shopping. Ann had become my slave on the past Tuesday, our time. Amanda had become my slave on Thursday at about five thirty pm. On Friday, I owned Stacy and Christine. On Saturday, I owned Teresa, Stephanie, Brittany, Nicole, and Mary. By one o clock on Sunday, I owned Jan. Now it was, five o’clock on Sunday, and I owned ten slave girls. In less than three days, I’d fucked seven of those girls, a total of 24 times. I owned three girls I still hadn’t fucked. And in a few hours, I’d own my dream girl. I sat watching TV, playing with Jill’s pubic hair, but really resting for Joyce. At 5:30, Jan served me a T-bone steak supper.

I felt great. Jan was my slave. I actually owned Jan. She was on her knees beside me, smiling at me, serving my supper. Jill was my slave. I actually owned Jill. As I ate, she danced for me, naked, showing me the most intimate parts of her body, obviously trying to seduce me. I hadn’t bothered to strip Jan, but she was still offering me her body. She was on her knees, smiling, and pushing her breasts out. When I glanced at her breasts, she asked, “Would you like me to strip for you, Master?” Watch Jan strip? I’d wait for Joyce. I watched Jill dance. It wasn’t easy to remember that I was supposed to wait for Joyce. I probably should have felt guilty about changing Jan and Jill into my slaves, but I was having too much fun to feel guilty. I enjoyed owning them. It was fun watching Jill dance, offering me her body. It was even fun to see Jan down on her knees, offering me her body. I always knew it would be fun to own slave girls, but I had never realized how exhausting it would be. And I intended to enjoy owning Joyce, even more than owning her mother and sister, and to become much more exhausted. I sent Jill to sit on her bed, with instructions not to come out until her mother or I told her to come out. I kept Jan dressed, with instructions to watch TV with me till Joyce came home, then act normal, and give Joyce some of her special lemonade.

Joyce came home a little after 8 o’clock, drank a glass of Jan’s special lemonade, and told us she didn’t want supper. She said she was tired. She was going to have a shower and go to bed. I looked at my watch, eight minutes until I owned her. She rummaged around her room for a while, then walked past in a bathrobe, with an armful of pajamas. Six minutes to go. To fill the time, I sent Jan for Jill. When they came back, I put Jan back on her knees beside me, and had Jill dance for me.

In the two years I’d known Joyce, I’d seen her grow from pretty, to beautiful, to gorgeous, but she was never very nice. In fact, she had a downright nasty streak. She was gorgeous, but like a lot of beautiful girls, she had never learned to be nice. She didn’t have to be nice. I’m sure every boy she met wanted her, but she had only dated a few basketball and football stars. I’d even seen her in a bathing suit. I knew she had beautiful, long legs with just enough muscle to give them gorgeous curves. But she had made it clear that she didn’t want me looking at her. She’d caught me a few times, and shown me a hateful glare. This girl might be slim but she was as strong as any boy. I’d quickly learned to stay away from her. Any time I’d accidentally gotten close to her, she’d driven her hard, sharp elbow right into my arm. One time when Jan had a Bar-b-q in her back yard, a boy friend of Jill’s had bumped me close to Joyce. She glared at me, and gave me an elbow that would’ve stunned an ox. The one time she didn’t glare was even worse. I’d paid big time for a weekend in a five-star hotel, and since Jan didn’t want to leave her girls, I’d paid for the three of them, in a separate room. I’d only managed a few five-minute meetings with Jan, with no sex. This one time, Joyce had come down to the pool in her bathing suit, and she lay down on the lounge next to me. I thought that she might finally be getting a bit friendlier, until she caught me looking at her. Of course I was looking at her. She rolled toward me, onto her side and opened her legs. I couldn’t stop looking. Then she rolled back, laughed at me, got up, and left, still laughing. Months later, I still burned when I thought of it. But now that she’d swallowed my mind control drug, I would have revenge. I sat there remembering her humiliating joke offer of sex. Well, in a few minutes it wouldn’t be a joke.

When ten minutes had passed, I walked into the bathroom. The shower was running, and I could see a flesh colored shadow moving behind the frosted glass. Suddenly the shadow stopped moving, and I heard a loud, “Mom?” from the stall.

I said even more loudly, “Freeze! Don’t move and don’t make a sound! Freeze where you are! Stop moving, right now!”

For a few seconds, I didn’t hear anything but running water, then I heard a weak, little, “What?” from the shower.

I grabbed a towel and continued talking, “You heard me. I gave you two orders, ‘Don’t move, and don’t make a sound,’ and I was talking to you, so freeze where you are and don’t move a single muscle except to breathe, until I tell you different.”

All I could hear was my heart pounding, and running water. The flesh colored shadow had definitely stopped moving. I walked to the shower door and took a good look at Joyce’s outline, through the door. I wanted to remember this moment. The only good thing that came out of Joyce’s humiliating, joke offer of sex was that I’d gotten a really good look at her legs. I knew that they were gorgeous, and I knew that her face was gorgeous. The only thing that could possibly stop her from being a perfect 10 would be if her breasts were too small, or too flat. I crossed all of my fingers, and slowly opened the door.

Her hips were facing the shower on the right, her breasts were turned slightly to me, and her face was looking right at me. She was holding her hands in front of her stomach. The shower was aimed at her breasts, hitting both of them, producing a sheet of water over her body, running down over her breasts, down over her stomach, over her pubic hair, and down her legs. There was a lot of water splashing off her breasts, and a lot of that hit her arms and hands, producing a steady ribbon of water that ran down from her hands. It looked like she’d just washed her breasts, and was now frozen in the act of rinsing them off. I relaxed, and smiled. Joyce was obviously obeying my order not to move. I’d had the shower door open for thirty seconds, but she still hadn’t moved a muscle. I stood there, watching the water splash off her breasts, and she stood there watching me. When I looked back up at her face, I saw her shock and confusion. I think she was trying to talk, but she couldn’t quite do it. I looked back down at her breasts. Even with all that water splashing off them, I could see they weren’t too small, or too flat. She had very nice breasts, two sharp, pointed cones, sticking straight out, high on her chest, almost as high as her shoulders. I glanced back at her face. She looked even more confused. Then I looked back down, at the rest of her body. Her legs were even better than I remembered, long and slim, with just enough muscle to give them beautiful curves. Her stomach looked perfectly flat, and on the other side was a perfect bum, round and high, round right up to her spine. I looked back at her face, and noticed her thin, straight nose, all it took to make Joyce prettier than Jill. I also noticed that her cheeks had turned pink. Of course, she’d just seen me open the shower, and check out her body, and the only thing she could do about it was to blush. She still looked shocked and confused. She obviously had no idea how this could possibly be happening to her.

I walked to the edge of the shower and looked into her big, brown eyes. I heard a little, “aah” sound, but she didn’t move. She was staring right back at me. I heard another, “aah”, and realized it was her breathing. She was groaning out a little ‘aah’ every time she breathed out. I said, “Remember, Joyce, not a sound,” and watched her mouth close. The sounds stopped. Water was now splashing off her onto me. I had to turn off the water, but her breasts were beside the tap, and my first instinct was to avoid touching them. Then I realized, I don’t have to worry about that any more. So I reached in, and I turned the tap. I didn’t bother to worry that my arm was rubbing against her breasts and nipples. Just like her sister, her reaction was instant, as soon as I touched her, her whole body tightened up, but she didn’t do anything to stop me, she still didn’t move an inch. And when the water was off, I looked into her brown eyes, turned my hand around, and started to play with her nipples.

She was definitely trying to say something now. I said, “Joyce, for the rest of your life, obey me, and cooperate with me. If I give you an order, don’t bother to think about it, just obey me.” She starred at me, with a frown on her face. I continued, “If I move you, cooperate, let me move you to any place, and any position I want. Cooperate with me for the rest of your life. Right now, you are obeying my order not to move or make a sound, but I’m going to add another order to that. You can make sounds, but only if you are sure that I want you to make them. Whenever I touch your nose, I want you to say only one thing. I want you to say one sentence, or to ask one question, politely, and quietly. Nod your head if you understand.” She nodded.

I touched her nose. “Mom … Jill … Mom and Jill are here.” She stopped talking, but I knew she wanted to say more.

I touched her nose again. She moaned quietly, “Mom … Mmm … Mmm …” She moaned again, “I can’t call them.”

Well, maybe she couldn’t call them, but I could. I called out, “Jill, are you there?”

From the other side of the door came, “Yes, Master.”

“Jill, stick your head in here ... No, on second thought, step halfway inside, so I can talk to you for a minute.

Jill obeyed my orders exactly. The door opened, then her head, right leg, right breast, and half of her pubic hair came in. She smiled at me, and gave me another, “Yes, Master?”

I looked back at Joyce. Her eyes were huge. She was starring at her naked sister. I said, “Jill, tell Joyce what you are.”

Jill smiled and repeated, “Yes, Master.” She looked at Joyce, and added, “I’m Bob’s slave girl, Joyce. Bob owns me.”

I called out again, “Jan? … are you there, Jan?”

Through the door came a cheery, “Yes, Master, I’m here.”

“Tell Joyce what you are, Jan.”

She almost sang, “No problem, Master … Joyce … I’m a slave girl … I’m Bob’s slave girl ... Bob own me too, Joyce.”

I could see Joyce’s eyes dancing around, so I touched her nose again. She whimpered, “Mom? … Mom is …” Her eyes fixed on Jill, looking slightly down, somewhere around Jill’s pubic hair. “Mom is …?” she couldn’t finish it.

I finished for her, “Mom is my slave? Yes, she is. … Mom is naked? No, I’ve seen your mom naked, and fucked her, many times. I don’t want to fuck her now, so she’s not naked. Jill is naked, but I’ve already fucked her. It’s your turn now.”

I was still playing with Joyce’s right breast. I said, “Back outside, Jill, and close the door.” As the door closed, I put my other hand on Joyce’s bum, walked my fingers around to her crack, and squeezed. Her bum was very firm, like solid muscle. After all, she was an athlete, a volleyball star. I could feel her shivering, and saw that her arm was covered in goose bumps. She wouldn’t be much fun sick, so I decided to dry her. I took her arm and said, “I’m going to move you out of the shower. Then I’ll dry you off, and of course, examine your body.” Her eyes were huge, staring at me. I think people call her look, ‘Bambi in the Headlights.’ Her blush had spread up to her forehead, and down her neck. I laughed in her face again, and said, “Relax Joyce, I know you don’t want me to examine your body, but you see, what you want doesn’t matter any more. Relax, and cooperate. Stay in the place and position I move you to, until I tell you different. Now tell me if you understand, Joyce.” Her upper chest was turning red. Even the tops of her breasts had turned pink. I said, “Tell me if you understand, Joyce!”

Her eyes were still huge. It looked like she didn’t understand at all, but she puffed out, “Uhh … Yes … I understand.”

I moved her out of the shower, to the middle of the bathroom, standing up nice and straight, with her arms at her sides, and her legs slightly open. Then I started drying her shoulders, around the tops of her arms. She’d put her hair up into a bun, to keep it dry. I took the elastic out and let her hair fall over her shoulders. I dried her left arm. She turned her head to the left, watching me. I dried down her back, to her bum, then her right arm and hand. Now she was watching me on her right side. After her arms were dry, I stopped, and started playing with her right elbow. I moved it from side to side, and front to back. She was watching me play with her elbow. Her eyes were still big, but now they were also pleading. I smiled at her and said, “This elbow has always been very dangerous to me,” Then I laughed and said, “but it’s not dangerous to me any more, is it?” She kept that pleading look for a second, then her eyes got shiny. I said, “Sorry Joyce, but tears aren’t going to work either.”

Her eyes stayed shiny as she watched me dry her right bum cheek and leg, and when I moved to her left side, her head turned to watch me dry her left bum cheek and leg. But as I dried around her asshole I noticed she was looking straight ahead. I walked around to her front and started to dry her breasts. As I dried her left breast I noticed that her left hand had somehow moved in front of her genitals. I laughed, said, “It’s much too late for modesty, Joyce,” and moved her hand back to her side. Then I dried her stomach, her pubic hair, and around her cunt. When I first saw her pubic hair, I thought for sure it was black, but as I dried it, I noticed that it was really brown, very dark, but definitely brown. I had imagined Joyce naked many times, and her body did not disappoint me. She was tall, slim, and strong, a real athlete. For over a year I had nightly fantasies about touching this girl, even fucking her, but until this week, I’d never imagined I could actually own her. Now here she was, naked, waiting to become my slave girl. It was better than any fantasy I’d ever had about her, and it was about to come true.

I decide it was time to own Joyce. I gave her the paper that had now worked perfectly on ten girls, and told her to read it. She took it and started to read. Her face went through the usual shock and fear, closed eyes, and calm for the rest of the paper.

A few minutes later, she looked up, and asked if we could talk about the four orders. She had just started telling me how she was going to obey the first order, when I stopped her and told her that while we discussed the four orders, I’d really enjoy seeing her body on display for me. She stared at me for a few seconds, then straightened herself up, pushed her breasts out, and put her hands behind her head. I noticed her cheeks were turning pink again, as she asked, “Is this … better … Master?”

I looked her over for a few seconds, then casually added, “Well … actually … you look even better when you smile.”

She looked at me for another second, then sputtered, “Yes … of course,” and her lips flickered up, into a nervous smile.

I said, “Relax, Joyce. Just smile naturally.” I watched her face and her body relax. Her lips settled into a very nice smile.

She explained each of the four orders to me. For each of the first three orders, she seemed happy to discuss what it meant for her to obey it, and she happily agreed to obey it forever. But as we discussed the fourth order, her face turned pink again, she frowned slightly, and her smile looked nervous again. I asked, “Does it bothered you to talk about sex with me, Joyce?”

She sputtered, “No, it’s just … I’m naked … I’m a slave … and I’m available to you … for sex … whenever you want.”

I asked, “Does it bother you to be naked, and on display for me?”

“No, Master, it’s my duty to be naked and on display for you. I’m your slave, and I exist only to please you. If you want me to be naked, I want to be naked, it’s OK, Master, and if want me to be on display, I want to be on display, that’s OK, too.” I asked her, “Does it bother you to be available to me, for sex? Does it bother you that I can fuck you whenever I want?”

“No, Master … I’m your slave girl … so … of course I’m available to you for sex … whenever you want.” Her frown disappeared. She added, “Everything’s fine, Master. I’m your slave girl, I’m on display for you, and available to you for sex.”

Her face was still a bit pink, and her smile seemed a bit nervous again, so I said, “Show me your best smile, Slave.”

She whispered, “Yes, Master,” and her smile grew into the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen, at least ever aimed at me.

Joyce was my slave. She had agreed to obey the four orders forever. She was naked, on display, and she was gorgeous. With that smile, that face, and that body, Joyce had to be the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, and I owned her, I owned her. I decided to start by taking a really good look at her face. I looked at her light brown hair, curling off her short, flat, forehead. I looked at her arching eyebrows, over her soft, warm, brown eyes. I’d never taken more than a quick glance at Joyce’s eyes, but now I studied them. They were a beautiful clear, light brown. They’d always looked hard, and cold, but now they looked soft and warm. Then I realized that Joyce was still showing me her most beautiful smile and that her smile included her eyes. This was the first time her eyes had looked so soft and warm, because this was the first time her eyes had really smiled at me. Her eyes were absolutely gorgeous, possibly more beautiful than Mary’s. I looked at her short, straight, very beautiful nose, then at her full lips that were still showing me her biggest, most beautiful smile, then my eyes skipped down to her breasts. For a 17-year-old, Joyce had nice breasts; little cones sticking straight out, with pink areolas that went back about an inch from the tip, and nipples like tiny, volcanoes, with tiny craters on the tips. I stepped back, and looked at the rest of her body.

Joyce was slim, but athletic. Her arms were slim but muscular. Her shoulders were square and her back was almost flat. I’m sure her strong shoulders and back are the reason her breasts could stick out so straight and high. Her stomach was flat. Her legs were slim but muscular, with nicely curved thighs and calves. Her bum was round with a crack right up to her spine. When I squeezed her bum, it felt nice and firm. Joyce had excellent muscle tone in her ass. Her pubic hair was a dark brown, curly triangle that surrounded, but didn’t hide, the little dimple going down to a beautiful, hand sized gap between her thighs. I reached out with my right hand. I grabbed her left breast, gave it a little squeeze, and thumbed her nipple for a few seconds, then I ran my fingers down her hard, flat stomach, and felt her muscles twitch under my fingers. She was obviously ticklish, but she didn’t move, her arms and hands stayed relaxed at her sides. Even as I ran my fingers down through her pubic hair, she didn’t react. Then I came to the start of the dimple that went down between her legs. I pressed my middle finger into it, and started to run that finger down, inside her dimple. Soon I came to a soft little bump. Past that I felt two little flaps of skin. I pressed my finger between them, and kept it moving. My finger was now sliding between some very soft, very smooth skin. I felt a small, soft bump at the bottom of that slit, but I kept my finger moving. Finally I felt a few small, bumpy flaps of skin, and between them I could feel another, smaller slit. I smiled. I laughed. At last … I was finally touching Joyce’s vagina.

Joyce had been watching my hand, but as soon as I touched her vagina, she looked up, right into my eyes, and smiled. At first it was a nervous little smile, but it grew into a big, beautiful smile. Joyce’s soft, warm eyes were smiling at me again. I pushed my finger up, into her vagina. She gasped, and asked, “Want to fuck me, Master?” I pulled on her vagina, and she took a step forward. I kissed her, and she kissed me back. I felt her lips open, and her tongue greet my tongue. Her arms slid around my shoulders, and I felt her body squish against me. I couldn’t believe it, I was actually kissing and fingering Joyce.

I pulled her by her vagina, out the door. Jan and Jill were outside. Jill opened her legs by my other hand, and asked, “Want two girls for the night, Master?” I looked at Jill. She was at least a 9, but Joyce was an 11, so I said, “Maybe later.” I pulled Joyce to her bedroom, turned on all the lights, lay her on her back, opened her legs, and got a very pleasant surprise. I knew Joyce had a beautiful face, and a beautiful body, but when I opened her legs, I saw that she also had a beautiful cunt. Her cunt lips and clitoris were slightly bigger than Christine’s but they were just as cute, with just a fringe of tiny pubic hairs. Joyce might have a more beautiful cunt than Christine. I would have to compare her to my other girls, but it was possible that Joyce had the best eyes, best bum, and best cunt of any girl I owned. She was certainly the most beautiful girl I owned. Since I was comparing her to Stacy, Christine, and Stephanie, saying she was the best was really something. I fucked her three times before letting her sleep, then went back to Jan and Jill. It was 9:30, plenty of time to fuck again, but even though Jill did her best to tempt me, hugging, kissing, and rubbing against me, there was no way I could get my dick up again.

I sent Jan to Jill’s single bed, and took Jill to Jan’s double bed. I didn’t bother waking Joyce, just to sleep beside me. Jill looked at the bed, smiled at me, and asked me if I wanted her on top of the covers, or under the blankets. I had already fucked her twice, and Joyce three times. I just wanted to sleep, and said, “Under.” She slid into the bed and I slid in after her. She rolled half onto me, and started kissing me. I stopped her. I told her I was tired, and just wanted her to keep me warm. She lowered her head to rest on my shoulder. Every girl I had ever slept with had fallen asleep with her head on my shoulder. I always woke with a sore shoulder, but not today. I rolled Jill on her back, and fell asleep with my head between her breasts.

When I woke, I threw back the covers and looked at Jill. She opened her eyes, opened her legs, and asked, “Do you want me, Master?” I was tempted. She was beautiful, lying there naked, with her legs wide open. But I had her get out of bed, and took her to the living room. Then I went to Joyce’s bedroom, woke her up, and took her to the living room. I had Jill and Joyce dance for me, and watched how well each girl’s breasts, stomach, and legs moved, as she danced. Then I had them turn around, and watched how well their bums moved. I decided that Joyce really was the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen. I fucked her twice, then showered with her. I had to smile, as I helped her soap up her breasts, remembering the first time I’d seen them, right here in this shower. Then she proved that her little breasts could wash me as well as Christine’s big nipples. I had Jill waiting outside, with a towel. She put it between us and used her body to rub me dry but I was too tired to fuck her.

Both Joyce and Jill helped me get dressed, but I kept them naked. I took both of my slave girls back to the living room. Both girls offered to make breakfast, but I decided that Jan should make it, and sent Jill to wake her. When they came back, I was pleasantly surprised. Jan was naked. Of course, Jill was naked when I sent her, but I didn’t expect Jan to be naked. We’d had sex maybe a dozen times, always in the dark, always under the covers. I knew how Jan felt about even a lover seeing her naked. I’d never had more than a glimpse of her body, always in the dark. And even though I’d had to touch her, to have sex with her, she had always made sure I understood that I wasn’t supposed to see her naked, or touch her body more than absolutely necessary. I knew that she was a prude, and just assumed that she’d be wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

I still hadn’t learned how completely a girl’s thinking changes when she agrees to be a slave, and knows she is a slave. Jan was standing in front of me, naked. She didn’t look happy, but she didn’t make any attempt to hide her body from me. She was showing me everything she had, and not in the dark. She sun was shining through the curtains, right onto her body. I assumed she looked unhappy because she was naked, and said, “I see you’re naked, Jan. Does that make you unhappy?”

I didn’t understand how completely her thinking had changed, until she answered my question. She said, “No, Master. I’m your slave. I exist only to please you. I hope it’s OK for me to be naked, Master.” She still looked unhappy, and I still didn’t understand. Then Jan added, “When Jill came to get me, I saw that she was naked, but I still had all of my clothes on, and I didn’t know if I was supposed to be naked too. But I knew that I was your slave … so I decided to take off my clothes.” She now looked very unhappy, and worried. “I hope that’s OK, Master.” I told it was fine, and her unhappy look disappeared. She visibly relaxed, smiled, and said, “Thank you, Master.” I realized that her face looked a lot like Joyce’s, and I could see that when she was young, her body was probably like Joyce’s is now, slim, athletic and gorgeous. Even at 38, after two kids, Jan’s body still looked pretty good. She still looked slim and athletic. Of course, she did jog, five mornings every week.

Jan wasn’t as slim as Joyce, but the only major differences were her slightly wider hips and slightly sagging breasts. Her breasts had a small dimple under them. When I put a finger in the dimple under her left breast, her breast covered almost the whole finger. As I examined her breasts, she looked at my hands, smiled, and asked, “Do you like my breasts, Master?” I didn’t answer. I was too busy examining them. They might sag slightly, but her nipples were still pointing up. She added, “You own them, Master.” I realized that when she was young, Jan was probably a 10. Even at 38, she was still at least an 8. I decided to keep Jan naked, but maybe because I’d almost married her, I decided not to make her dance and show her body, or have her take part in my ‘best’ contests. I just had her put on a bathrobe temporarily, to protect her as she made breakfast.

Jan’s house was bigger than Stacy’s apartment, so I phoned Stacy and Teresa, and arranged for all of my slaves to come to Jan’s house for supper. By 4:30, ten naked girls were dancing for me in the living room, all of my slaves, except for Jan. I had another ‘best’ contest. Joyce won for best eyes and best ass, but not for best cunt. It was hard to choose between Joyce and Christine’s cunts, but I finally decided that since Christine’s cunt was naturally hairless and smooth, she won ‘best cunt’. But Joyce was definitely the overall most beautiful girl. That evening I fucked Joyce, Christine, Stephanie and Joyce again.

Jan spent the day serving food and drinks, then I sent her to sleep in Jill’s bed. But in the morning, I decided to use her. I took Jill and Joyce to Jan’s double bed, and taught them how to milk a penis. I had both girls practice the “milking fuck”. Jill practiced on my left middle finger, while Joyce practiced on my right middle finger. Then Jill milked my penis dry. Ten minutes later, Joyce milked my penis dry. I showered with both girls, and had Jan waiting outside, naked, with a towel. She put the towel between us, and dried me. That was the first time I actually used Jan as my slave girl. She looked unhappy, but now I understood. It wasn’t that she was naked, rubbing me dry with her body, it was because I still hadn’t fucked her.

Six months later, I still owned less than a hundred slave girls, but I was now a senior vice-president of three companies, I owned two Mercedes, a five bedroom house on the better side of town, with an indoor pool, and I owned a condo in Hawaii. Life was good, then I got a phone call. Suddenly it felt like my world might crash around me. I might even end up in a hole. A polite woman from the Chinese embassy phoned me, told me her Chinese name was Luk Mei Kuen, but would I please just call her Mabel. She asked if she could come to my house and talk to me. I tell you, I panicked. What if she knew about Ann? What if she knew about the drug? What if she knew about the list? the list? I remembered the list. I got it out and looked at it. There were dozens of names. I read them over. The name, Luk Mei Kuen (Mabel) was there. Perhaps I would be OK after all.

I was a bit surprised when I saw Mabel. From a distance she looked like a kid, under five feet and less than ninety pounds, with her hair pulled into a ponytail. I opened the door. She had a tiny nose, huge eyes, and a mouth without a trace of a smile. She asked if she could come in, and I showed her into the living room. I sat on one end off the couch. She sat in the recliner, and started with a bit of small talk. Then she started to talk about some of my Hong Kong business deals, and about fashion, but there were also questions about a girl who had asked to be transferred to San Francisco, a girl that sounded a lot like Ann.

Mabel very politely, but very firmly, refused anything to eat or drink. Finally, I decided to try showing her Ann’s card. Her eyes and mouth opened in shock. She leaned forward, studied the card, and whispered something in Chinese. Then she looked up, stared at me, and started to whisper in English, “What … Where …” She liked her lips, “Where did you get that?”

I answered, “That doesn’t really matter, does it?”

She whispered, “That card was for my training … long ago … to identify a new trainer … if I ever need more training.” She had grabbed the arms of the chair, as if she was ready to jump right up. She gasped, “Are you … my new … trainer?”

I laughed, “Yes, Mabel, I’m going to train you alright. I’ll train you good. Aren’t you supposed to do something now?”

She stared at me for a few more seconds, then sighed, relaxed back onto the chair, and asked, “How may I serve you?” She now looked calm and relaxed, perfectly normal, as if it was perfectly normal for her to ask me how she could serve me.

She looked so normal I had to ask, “Mabel … when you serve me … are there any limits on what you will do for me?”

She stared at me again. “Limits? … No, there are no limits on what I will do for you, I will do anything you ask of me.”

Mabel looked young, so I asked her age. She was twenty-two. She’d been given the ‘treatment’ when she was nineteen. She’d thought it was long ago, the drug was gone, and she was safe. But she seemed perfectly happy to be wrong about that. I ordered her to answer my questions openly, completely, and honestly. Then I asked why she was here, what precautions she had taken, and who else knew about her being here. It turned out she was only suspicious, and hadn’t told anyone about me. She had assumed that if she didn’t eat or drink, she could easily handle me by herself, and get all the credit for catching me.

She didn’t think anyone remembered that she’d been ‘treated’ with the drug three years before, and didn’t think any of it still existed. She certainly didn’t suspect anyone, especially me, could change her into his slave, just by showing her a card. But she happily agreed to obey me forever, and to cooperate with me forever. She also happily agreed to be my slave forever.

She seemed genuinely surprised when I ordered her to be my slave for the rest of her life. I think she really believed that I was sent to give her more training, but she agreed to be my slave girl forever. She happily agreed to exist only to please me, and to never do anything that could possibly displease me, or harm me. As we discussed the third order, she seemed to really get into being my slave for the rest of her life. She seemed happy when I allowed her the honor of promising to prevent me from being harmed or displeased. Then we talked about sex. Now she didn’t seem nearly so happy, but she agreed that being my slave included sex, any time, any place, and any way I wanted. Then I gave her a copy of my now standard slave orders. She read them over, twice, then told me about the four orders that she was going to obey for the rest of he life. I had to smile. Mabel was now casually referring to herself as Your Slave, or Your Slave Girl, and referring to me as Master, or My Master.

After she had finished explaining the orders, I told her to sit on my lap, and to convince me that she was my slave girl. She walked over, put a knee on each side of me, and sat on my lap. Her eyes were almost level with mine, dark brown circles, with little black circles in the middles, coming closer, and closer. Her head tilted, our mouths joined, her mouth opened wide, and I spent at least a minute exploring the inside of her mouth, and playing with her tongue.

I took her shoulders and moved her back about six inches. After a girl agrees to be my slave, I always examine her face. I once read a description of a Japanese girl as having a heart shaped face. I always thought that was a bit of literary license, but now I knew it was a true description. Mabel had a heart shaped face, with a V of hair on the top, middle of her forehead, and a face that tapered down to a little, round chin. She actually had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, with a few strands of black hair coming down over her short, flat forehead. She had a tiny straight nose, huge, half-closed, very dark brown eyes, and high, arching eyebrows. She has a small, bow-shaped mouth, with naturally puckered lips, still without a trace of a smile.

She had removed her black, man-like, sensible shoes at the door, so I reached around her, to her feet, and pulled off her black, man-like, sensible socks. I noticed that her toenails were painted the same solid, dark red as her fingernails, so maybe she wasn’t completely frigid. She was wearing what almost looked like a man’s suit, black, with a very thin, white, pin-stripe. I had her go down on her knees in front of me, loosened two buttons, and slid that coat off her shoulders, down to the floor.

She was wearing a white blouse that looked just like a man’s white dress shirt, with a bit of thick, black, velvet string, tied around her neck, like a thin bow-tie. I pulled off the black string, and dropped it, loosened all eight buttons on her blouse, and pushed it around her shoulders, down her arms, to the floor. She was wearing a thick, strong looking white bra, like the ones I had only seen in comedies about old, English women. It had three hooks on the back. I undid them, and pulled it off. That bra had squeezed her breasts in, adding to her child-like look, but when I pulled it off, out popped two nice-sized cones. Sure they weren’t that big, but they were definitely a woman’s breasts, and they felt nice; hard little cones, with soft pink tips. Mabel calmly watched, as my hands examined her breasts. She didn’t seem to mind at all. For the first time she smiled at me. I decided that even though her breasts were a bit small, I liked them. Her face was definitely a 10, and her body might be a whole lot better than I’d thought, I would have to see her hips, bum, legs, and of course, her cunt, to really judge her body.

So I stood her up, and loosened the man-like belt, button and zipper on her man-like pants. They slid down to her ankles. She had very nice legs, definitely a woman’s legs. Her thighs were gorgeous, with beautifully muscled curves on the front, and a beautiful, hand-sized gap between them. She was wearing big, high, Victorian English looking … I can’t really called them panties, but they couldn’t fool anyone who’d seen the rest of her body. I turned her around, and pulled her “panties” down to her ankles. Her bum was a bit flat but was definitely a woman’s bum. She’d obviously been hiding a very nice body. I slid to the left end of the couch, and had her lie down on her back beside me, with her left leg up on the back of the couch, and her right foot on the floor. In this position, her legs were open enough to let me easily examine everything between them. She had a tiny patch of short black pubic hair over her pubic bone, but like Christine she had no visible hair between her legs. She had tiny, brown cunt lips that came down about an inch from her tiny brown clitoris, in an upside-down V. Her little cunt was wide open, giving me a clear view of everything inside, from her asshole right up to her little, upside-down, brown ‘V’. Her vagina was a little side to side slit, at the bottom of her cunt. It was slightly curved, making it look like a tiny smile.

As I reached out to touch Mabel’s cunt, she told me all about the poison tube in her vagina, the same poison tube as Ann. I took the ‘insert and remove’ tube from her purse and pulled it out. As I pulled the two tubes out, Mabel started to squirm. Her legs stayed open but her vagina kept opening and closing. I watched her little vagina open … close … open … close … It looked just like a little kissing mouth. I watched her kissing vagina for a minute, then asked, “Is something wrong, Slave?”

She squirmed a bit more, and replied, “You will … hurt … me … I must cooperate … I must allow you … to hurt me.”

I wormed two joints of my right middle finger into her vagina. She squeezed me, hard. I asked, “Does sex hurt, Slave?”

She answered, “Yes, Master … sex always hurts … I do not like sex … but I am your slave … I must allow … sex.”

She confirmed my suspicion that the man who trained her had used the drug on her. She’d been a virgin, afraid of sex, but after he’d used the drug on her, she had to obey him. He’d taken her virginity, and he’d used her as his personal sex toy for the six weeks that he’d trained her. She also confirmed my suspicion that he had enjoyed rough sex, enjoyed hurting her. She just remembered that sex hurt, every time, she had never had an orgasm during sex, and hadn’t had sex since her training. I laughed, “Sex won’t hurt you if you just relax and enjoy it. If you are my slave, just relax and let your body please me.”

She said, “Yes, Master,” and stopped squirming. I still had my right middle finger in her vagina, and felt her body relax. Her vagina had been squeezing my finger, hard. Now I just felt a light squeeze, and could easily slide my finger in and out. I explained Stacy’s penis milking technique, and she seemed eager to try it. She sat back on my lap, with a knee on each side. This time my penis was out and ready. She pressed her vagina onto my penis. Just the tip went in. I felt her squeeze, and pull. My penis popped out. She closed her eyes, pressed her vagina back over the tip of my penis, squeezed and pulled it off again. Once again she pressed her vagina over the tip of my penis but this time I heard her gasp and felt her vagina become slippery. Mabel slid all the way down my penis, until my whole penis was inside her. I watched her eyes open, looking very surprised. I felt her vagina squeeze, pull half way up, then relax and slide down again. It was squeeze, up, relax, and down … squeeze, up, relax, and down … again, and again, and again. Her head tilted back and she started to meow. She sounded just like a cat. Over and over her nipples rubbed up and down my chest, as her tiny vagina squeezed, and pulled. She squealed as she came, and I shot into her. She sat on my lap for a minute, then she opened her eyes, and with a big smile said, “Thank you, Master.”

I decided to keep Mabel. She was smart and beautiful, and I knew it was the drug, but she sure seemed eager to spend the rest of her life as my slave. She still works at the embassy, but now her job is to protect my Hong Kong business interests.