The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Beauty in the Beast

by Chester and Wrestlr

Disclaimer: There’s sex, hypnosis, sodomy, and maybe a few other minor perversions in this. If you don’t like that sort of thing, go elsewhere.

Copyright—1999 by Chester and Wrestlr. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of “Adult Verification”) is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can’t use this without the express permission of (and payment to) the authors. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Comments to Chester () and Wrestlr ()

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Beauty in the Beast

Part 7. Day 3 (Afternoon and Evening).

Ron Brick Brock
Ron slept like the dead! I’m in charge. What’s happening to me?
He was vaguely aware that it was morning but didn’t want to move. It was so fuckin’ easy, don’t know why I din’t try it b’fore. I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. All I could do was watch what happened.
The feel of flesh against his body, the memory of a night of perfect love-making, the smell of smoky breath on his neck, and the relaxing calm after a storm of love-making. When I wake up from my nap, I’m still with this john, right? Damn! I never spent this long with anyone b’fore! Love ‘em ‘n leave ‘em, that’s my motto. Even after I woke up, it was like my head had been taken over by someone else. Ron, baby, what the fuck did you do to me? What did you get me into?
As he felt the slight stirrings behind him, his mind again brought back Brock’s the beautiful face, and his cock grew hard, knowing that this man had cast a spell over him and he couldn’t help the addiction he felt—he would do anything for Brock, to keep him his. No one could turn him on more quickly or ignite such passion in him. Yeah, I knew all ‘bout Brock. Whatta wuss. It was easy to keep him pushed down’n tha back of my head. No fuckin’ way I was lettin’ him out to spoil this. He stayed where I put him too. He struggled some now ‘n then but he din’t have a clue so’s nothing he could do. Nothing I couldn’t handle. There was this ... presence in my head, and it wasn’t me. I could feel it, all around me. Male, a very masculine presence. Familiar too, like it was part of me, yet somehow separate. I didn’t really understand what was happening here at all. All I could do was watch as the presence moved in my body.
Brock finally moved away from behind him, sat up and started to dress, so Ron gave him his best good morning smile. He offered breakfast but Brock just smiled, undid his trousers and pulled them down. Wearing no underwear, he gave Ron a glimpse immediately of what he longed for, and Ron quickly went down on him. Each time Ron tried to suggest something else, like breakfast or lunch, Brock lit a cigarette, pulled down his pants and again Ron sucked him dry. He came insatiably, over and over, while Ron was drawn more and more into his beauty. I knew all about this john too. Rod? Ron? What the fuck was his name? Don’t matter. I had his number ‘n I had ‘im wrapped around my finger. I kept my shirt off—never hurts sweetenin’ the deal some, y’know?—’n when he starts getting’ all uppity, all I had to do’s unzip ‘n drop my pants a little. I’d given him the suggestion that seeing me naked would make him want to make me happy, right? He took to it like a duck to water. He made me happy, all right. Over ‘n over aga’n. Ron seemed to be eating this all up. The more this presence used my body to tease him or manipulate him, the more excited he got. He was practically groveling. Whenever Ron tried to say no or stand up for himself, this presence would just pull my pants down, and Ron would go wild. He couldn’t say no to anything my voice told him to do, no matter how humiliating. And sex? It was like this presence in me couldn’t get enough! Time was passing for me in a haze of orgasms.
Food became unimportant as morning slipped into night. The protein of Brock’s cum sustained Ron, and cigarettes sustained Brock. Ron was unable to think, only to give into the passion. I stayed the rest of the afternoon, even part of that evening. Why walk away from a good thing, right? Am I right? ‘Course, I’m right. Ol’ Brick’s always right. Afternoon, evening, it all rushed by in a haze. Couldn’t focus. I was losing my hold on reality and slipping further away, further down under the presence.
Suddenly, morning was evening. Ron’s hardness never seemed to go away. Brock gave him a hard kiss, arose, pulled up his pants and put on his leather jacket. My hot god, Ron thought as Brock turned to him and said “Need more smokes, man! Be back soon!” About nine o’clock, I ran out of smokes. I coulda sent Ron down to tha store for more, but I needed some air. I had a good deal goin’ on here, but I wanted a break for a while. Too much of a good thing gets old, y’know? And I need my freedom. He smoked like a chimney. I couldn’t fucking believe it! This was my body, not some ashtray. Ron, have you ever got some explaining to do! I thought when the cigarettes ran out all that smoking stuff was over, but then he says he want more.
Ron reached over and grabbed the now-hidden cock, but Brock grabbed his hand and roughly thrust it away. Ron was about to get angry with Brock but Brock bent down and kissed him, long and hard. With his wonderful smile, he walked to the table, grabbed Ron’s wallet, and took out the money inside. So I pushed Ron off my cock, pulled up my jeans, put on my leather jacket over my bare chest, ‘n I high-tailed it to the gas station down the street for more cigarettes. Money? Hell, got plenty of jing from Ron ‘fore I left, of course. He owed me big-time, all right. Ron was kneeling between our legs—my legs—giving us like our umpteenth blowjob of the evening. The presence pushed him back roughly and got dressed. Took a couple of twenties, maybe more, from Ron’s wallet on the table. Ron didn’t even try to stop him.
Brock promised he would return. Ron was panic-stricken, but Brock assured him that once he got his smokes, which he swore he was doing just for Ron—because he knew how much Ron loved them—he would be back to carry on where they left off. He again flashed that melting smile and was gone. Bought my smokes. I leaned back on this brick wall outside the gas station ‘n lit up. There was this guy in a real fancy foreign sports car checking me out, ‘n I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see what was what. I know money when I see it. Gotta make a few bucks, y’know? All I could do was watch as he bought more of those damn cigarettes from the corner store, then lit up the minute he was outside. This was my body he was polluting, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even work up the control to cough. This was pure hell.
It seemed like it was less than five minutes before the “loss” hit him and Ron felt like crying. It started out as a dull pain in his chest and gradually took over his whole body. Ron was like an alcoholic without a drink. He needed Brock, so badly. He got up and dressed quickly, thinking that he would catch up with Brock and come back with him. Ron went downstairs, grabbed his coat, and went outside. He drove by ‘n stared. I didn’t act too interested—make ‘em work for it, I always say. He drove on. Then he drove by again, slower, stared some more. I pretended I din’t notice him. Them’s th’ rules’a this game, right? I let the front of my jacket fall open to show my bare pecs, casual-like. He’s interested, all right. He had that hungry look they all get. I didn’t notice the guy in the car at first, but the presence did. That’s what I felt, how interested he was in the sports car that cruised in front of us real slow. Got to admit, it was a fine car too. Red. New. Sleek. Worth more money than I’d ever see. I felt night air hit my nipples. The driver was staring at me, at my body. What did he want with us?
Brock had taken Ron’s keys. “Damn,” he thought. He knew there was no way he could catch up to Brock. Ron would just have to wait until he returned. He felt like crying as he headed back into the empty house. Third time he came ‘round the block, I looked right at ‘im. “You paying attention, Brock?” I whispered, grinnin’ like an ol’ hound dog, knowing he’d hear me. “Watch how it’s done.” He drove on but we didn’t move. Sure enough, the driver came back around the block in a moment. I heard my own voice say, “You paying attention in there, Brock? Watch how it’s done.”
How did I ever live without Brock, he thought. He would do, say or put up with anything to keep him there. He pulled up beside me. Yeah, he had the cash all right, ‘n I had the merchandise. We was in business. When the driver pulled up and casually held up the money, I figured out what was going on.
He heard the car pulling up in the driveway. The emptiness disappeared and he took a quick look in the mirror, pushed back his hair and ran to the door to meet Brock. Took him back to Ron’s. No way I’m letting a sweet deal like this get away from me. I told him Ron’s “just a friend,” ‘n tha guy knew better’n ask questions. We got in the car and headed back to Ron’s house. Cool, I thought, Ron will put a stop to this! But Ron seemed too stunned to understand at all.
Ron’s heart stopped. “What the ... who the fuck is this? I thought we ... How could you bring someone back to my house? How ...” He stopped short as Brock undid the top of his pants and pulled down his zipper, revealing his treasure. “Chill, my man!,” Brock said, smiling and winking. Ron melted. Ron got kinda upset, like we had a thing going on or something. I guess we did, kinda, long’s his money held out, but that don’t mean I can’t earn a little som’thin’ on tha side, am I right? “Ron,” I says, “just chill.” I teased down my zipper a little, figurin’ he’d get the idea. I wanted Ron to get mad, throw the guy out, help me get rid of this presence, but all he did was bitch and moan about how he couldn’t believe this was happening. My voice said, “Just chill, Ron,” and my hand worked my zipper. Ron, he just stared at my crotch and shut up.
Again the overwhelming love and need to please washed over him as he stared at Brock. Ron just stares at my zipper ‘n shuts right the fuck up. Yeah, I got him good. Ron’s expression went passive, as if all the outrage was drained out of him.
Ron allowed the strange man and Brock to pass by him and they headed upstairs to Ron’s bedroom. As though in a trance, Ron followed. I took this new guy inta Ron’s bedroom. I left the door cracked—I knew Ron’s gonna wanna watch. He’d pay for the free thrill later. I couldn’t stop myself from walking to the bedroom. Ron’s bedroom. Man, this was seriously fucked up! Why didn’t Ron stop this?
Brock had closed the bedroom door only halfway, and Ron stood out in the hall, watching like a voyeur as Brock stood there and allowed that other man to fall to his knees and suck on Brock’s hard cock—the cock that should be his alone, Ron thought. Ron watched, mesmerized, as the man finished his job, took out his wallet, and paid Brock—twice as much as Brock had demanded—and walked out smiling. Hey, I’m good-lookin’, ‘n I got the goods. This guy, he was just plain desperate for some attention, ‘n thinkin’ of all that cash had me feeling really ... attentive. All he wanted t’do was suck me off, which’s fine by me. He gave me more money’n I asked for—’n let me tell you, when he opened up his wallet ‘n I got a glimpse of how much more there was besides, damn!, I just about creamed on the spot! The man stripped, and he got my clothes off too. I just wanted this to be over—I wanted Ron to burst in and put a stop to all of this shit. But my cock was hard and this guy, he really knew how to suck. In spite of myself, I started getting into it. All the presence in my head was thinking, though, was money, money, money. After I came, so hard I nearly saw stars, the guy dressed in a hurry and left.
Ron ran over to Brick who was counting money, and, in tears, questioned how Brock could demean him like this, and how much they had loved each other. Later, after the guy left, Ron’s all over me, with Oh, how could you do that to me ‘n Oh, I thought we had something special. Ron came in almost immediately and started yelling about “my” behavior. It wasn’t me, I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t.
Brock was paying no attention, so Ron’s whining began to turn into anger, but a confused anger, because the more he looked at the naked parts of Brock’s body, the more the anger turned into lust, and the more the lust clouded Ron’s mind. Nothing, it seemed, would ever be the same again. So I’m sittin’ on the bed, a-countin’ my take again—for like the fifth time, ‘cause its more money’n I ever made in one go. I had my jeans on but my chest was still bare. I could tell by th’way Ron kept eyein’ my nips that his mad-on would disappear in a second if’n I gave ‘im some attention. C’mon, Ron! Do something! I thought. The presence in my head was pretty much ignoring Ron, devoting his time to counting the money yet again. Surely Ron understood that this wasn’t me? Ron had to come through for me—he was my last hope of getting back in control of myself.
Brock patted the bed and Ron sat down beside him. Tears leaked down Ron’s face, and he was about to either fall apart in tears or attack Brock in lustful anger. Just as he was about to scream at Brock, Brock reached over to touch his face, saying, “Sleep, Ron,” and all emotion faded away from him. I patted the mattress next to me for him to sit down there. He had a seat, like an obedient puppy. He’s a-waiting for me to ‘pologize ‘n make things all better, but that’s the fuckin’ last thing I had in mind. Instead, I said nuthin’ but, “Sleep.” Instead, Ron sat down next to me, looking lovesick. Oh, God, I thought, suddenly afraid things weren’t going to go the way I wanted. And when I heard my voice say, “Sleep, Ron,"—damn it!—I knew he had gotten to Ron, and my last hope was gone.
Ron felt himself moving again into that quiet place, that beautiful place, that place where all anger and all fear left him and was replaced by serenity. His eyes closed ‘n his body relaxed, ‘n I lay him back real gentle on the bed. Yeah, I had this john down good. “See, Brock?” I whispered, ”this is how ya do it.” The effect was immediate. Ron’s expression went blank, his eyes closed, and his body sagged back onto the bed. “See that, Brock?” my voice hissed. “That’s how it’s done.”
Ron became vaguely aware of a guilt rolling into his consciousness, a growing guilt over the awful way he had treated Brock, and it was destroying the quiet place. He had to make it up to Brock, or he would never be able to feel peace again, never experience that quiet place. I said to the john, “Listen close ‘n listen real good. You been a real bastard today ‘n yer very, very sorry. When you wake up from yer little nap, yer a-gonna make it up to me. Yer a-gonna do whatever it takes to make everythin’ all right, ain’t ya?” All I could do was listen to my voice whisper into Ron’s ear, telling him what a bastard he’d been and how Ron would want to make everything all right later. Me, I just curled up inside myself and gave up. The presence had won, and I didn’t want to fight anymore.