The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When he took the gag out and the blindfold off, Jenny didn’t scream or protest or call him a lunatic bastard. It worried her that he was letting her see his face. Did that mean he didn’t plan on letting her go? Even worse, she obviously recognized him. It was that quiet guy from The Club.

Jenny danced at The Club 2 or 3 nights a week. It was a way to make good money as she went to college. Her friends told her it was dangerous to be around “those people”, but until now she never really thought her life would be threatened. Her heart was racing. She couldn’t remember being abducted. She woke up tied to a chair, unable to see or speak or move. She panicked briefly, but there was nothing she could do. After an hour or so, she heard someone come into the room. Now, at least, she had some idea of what was going on.

She was in a large windowless room, probably a basement. She was tied to a wooden armchair, sitting in the middle of the room, facing a blank wall. He was sitting on a similar chair, facing her. He didn’t look like a psycho killer. She concentrated on not encouraging or provoking him. Make him think of you as a person, she thought, don’t let him just act out his sick fantasies with you as an object. Don’t let him suspect that you recognize him.

“My name is Jenny. Why are you doing this to me? My family will be so worried . . .”

“Quiet, Jenny.” He said, “Don’t try to talk yourself out of this. Besides, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking. I’m really a nice guy. I’ve been a nice guy for years. Everybody’s doormat. If women thought about me at all, they considered me as a friend, not as someone they would ever date. Mostly they ignored me. Everyone ignores me. Very few people even remember my name.”

“I’ve never done anything to you,” Jenny said soothingly, “I don’t even know you.”

“I could take insult at that, after what I just said. But I saw you recognize me when the blindfold came off.” He said calmly.

Jenny thought, with each of us pitching our voice to calm the other one down, we may end up both going to sleep. No chance of that really, her heart was still pounding.

“I don’t blame you for keeping it to yourself. You’re thinking you’re in danger here, but despite appearances, you’re not.”

Jenny bit back her sarcastic comeback.

“Like I said, I’m a nice, quiet, normal guy. Very frustrated, but not violent. Then an opportunity came along and I snapped. Totally uncharacteristic. Some sort of psychotic break. I don’t know. But now, here you are, no one knows I have you, and I intend to follow through. Might as well hang for a sheep as for a lamb. The criminal act is already done, no taking it back.”

“Look, nothing has happened yet, everybody makes mistakes. Let me go now and I won’t report it or make a fuss. No harm done, really.” Jenny said, thinking that she would press charges on kidnapping, false imprisonment, assault, harassment, jaywalking, income tax evasion, and anything else she could get to stick.

“That’s not going to happen.” He said. There was a long pause.

“What are you going to do?” Jenny asked, trying to get a response. She was afraid of what he might say, but he seemed determined to explain himself to her.

“I’m going to give you back a little control,” he replied. “You get to choose what you want to have happen. A, B, or C. I’ll explain the choices, come back in half an hour, you can ask any questions you want, then I’ll give you another half hour to decide.”

He stood up and walked over to the blank, white wall. He had some sort of marker and he wrote out the choices as he spoke.

“A—close confinement. I will keep you in a small dark cage for 5 weeks and enjoy just watching you, knowing that I have you in captivity. Minimal rations, and almost no contact. This choice is mainly there to make the others look good, but also so you can’t say I offered no alternative that would leave your honor and integrity intact.”

Jenny could see he really believed his own crap, but she wished he’d be less long-winded in explaining his self-delusions.

“B—voluntary sex. If you agree to have sex with me whenever I want, then I’ll let you go in 2 weeks. There will be other privileges as well, so your captivity won’t be unpleasant. I figure it’s a long shot, but I might as well offer you the choice.

As if.

He really thinks he is offering fair alternatives, Jenny thought. He has probably been working this out in his head for weeks or months.

“And my third choice?” Jenny prompted, as he waited. He was searching her face for some encouragement for option “B”.

“C—brainwashing. It’s a personal fetish of mine. I want to try some rather intense behavior modification, hypnotism, mental programming, that sort of thing, to see if it works. No sex involved, but you would get some privileges and release in two weeks.”

Psycho lunatic revealed. Jenny was a psych major, and actually had some knowledge about these techniques. They were not something to fool with. How much did he know? And what was he trying to achieve? Best to ask carefully, this was probably his core obsession and he might be touchy.

“What sort of thing did you have in mind?” She asked.

“I’ll give you half an hour to think of any questions. I’ll be back then.” He left her alone, exiting through a very solid-looking steel fire door.

They told her that The Club had a bad reputation, and that the people there were probably dangerous low-lifes. She had checked it out for herself, though. It did have a bad record once—for drugs and prostitution. The owner, some guy in Chicago, had gotten fed up when the State threatened to pull his liquor license. He had brought in a new, no-nonsense manager, Clyde, and Clyde had brought with him a new crew. The bouncer / doorman was an ex-army guy with 3 teenage daughters. Due to his parole, the head bartender was going to pull hard time if he was even in the same room when a crime went down. And the DJ was a part-time Sherriff’s Deputy, no less. The place was sleazy, but it was in a nice neighborhood, grandfathered in as a pre-existing use. The city would love to close it down if there were any criminal complaints.

So Clyde didn’t tolerate anything illegal whatsoever. And the payout at The Club was much better than any of the bigger, glitzier places. Jenny was, by far, the youngest and hottest girl there, but she didn’t make as much money because she refused to do lap dances or the private rooms. Her old high school friends would be shocked to find out what the former shy geek was doing for money these days.

All her college friends had told her that she would get in trouble, and now she had been kidnapped by an unstable psychopathic creep. Jenny wondered if his idea of “behavior modification” would be poking her with a pointy stick whenever she failed to call him “my lord”. Or worse yet, maybe he did know what he was doing. She could envision herself explaining to her parents, as she wore a silly white robe and had a glazed look in her eyes, that she had had a “spiritual awakening” and had given up all worldly goods in order to chant Tadjikistani prayers and eat nothing but yellow-blossomed herbs.

Could she hold out for two weeks, if this guy really tried to indoctrinate her? What techniques did he plan to use? What result was he looking for? If she faked total acceptance, would he get all excited and decide to keep her? If she openly and successfully resisted, would he get all frustrated and just keep trying past his own two week deadline? He was in “reasonable” mode right now, but obviously (she was tied to a chair in his basement, after all) he was capable of violent, criminal actions.

Don’t provoke. Don’t encourage. Just go along with it.

He came back in and sat down facing her again, ready to answer her questions. He seemed relaxed and currently lucid.

“What sort of brainwashing?” Jenny asked softly, “What all would be involved?”

“I want to try several different techniques, both separately and in combination.” He answered enthusiastically, leaning forward, his eyes opening up and his voice a little louder. Yep, this was his obsession, alright. “Repetition of key phrases. Audio reinforcement, including subliminals. Controlled diet and sleep cycles. Punishment and reward. A visual presentation. And, of course, hypnotism.”

“Punishment?” Jenny keyed in on that word.

“Minor shocks, stern rebukes, loss of privileges. Nothing too serious.” He was squirming in excitement as he answered her. The look he was giving her she had seen before—as guys watched her dance and fantasized.

It sounded like he knew a bit about what he was doing and was planning something pretty intense. That made her next question even more important.

“What are you trying to get me to do?” Jenny phrased carefully, not wanting to even faintly imply that she planned to fake it. Or that she had more than a vague notion of the techniques involved.

“Not what I want you to do, what I want you to be!” He jumped to his feet suddenly. Jenny flinched back with a jerk. She hoped he hadn’t noticed how jumpy she was, but since she was tied hand and foot the motion had been slight. He ran quickly past her, made some unidentifiable noises in the room somewhere behind her back, and quickly came back with a sheet of Paper. He put it in her hand (which was still tied to the arm of the chair). Oh no, he had planned this all out carefully. Like it or not, she was going to be participating in his sick, desperate fantasy.

“I outline all the main points here.” He said eagerly, “I’m not going for any secret commands or hidden motivations or anything too complex on my first try at this.”

When Jenny read the bold print outline of what her abductor planned to do to her, she had to bite her tongue lightly to keep from laughing. For the first time since waking up here, she began to believe that she would come out of this OK.

He wanted to rescue her. The other girls at The Club had told her about guys like this. He thought she was some white-trash trailer-park tramp who had fallen into a job as a sleazy slut stripper out of desperation and a total lack of self-esteem. He was going to save her, and take her away from her sordid, disgusting existence. He was there to pull her out of her “loser” spiral and start her off on a new, better lifestyle. His list of objectives read like the Girl Scout Handbook (the old one, before they got PC). He wanted her to clean up her act, go to school, and get a better life.

She could do this standing on her head. Each and every thing he wanted her to believe was already one of her strongly-held values. Everything he wanted her to do was already her daily routine. The only “new” idea at all was that HE was nice and largely harmless. If this was his entire program, then that was actually true.

She wouldn’t have to fake success if it didn’t work. She wouldn’t have to struggle to resist if it did. She could just go along with it.

Jenny later summarized what he wanted her to do. Get clean and sober, be ambitious, patient, and pragmatic, have a nice career, marriage and children. Mixed in with all the sweetness and light, were little disclaimers about what a nice guy he was, how he would never hurt her, and that he wanted to help her.

It was a fluke that he had seen Jenny at The Club at all. She was a shy and quiet nerd, concerned only with her studies. She had never dated (if you didn’t count the junior prom disaster). She was in her 3rd year at the University, a psych major on the Dean’s List with a 3.9 average. It would have been 4.0, but for each of the last two semesters she had taken a Dance credit. She wanted to do something artistic and active, even if it cost her GPA. One of her fellow dance students had mentioned exotic dancing as a great way to make big money while working around a class schedule.

Jenny had thought about it for months on end. Eventually she decided to try it as a challenge to her own tendency to hide behind her studies and insist that everything in her life be safe and conventional. This summer she hadn’t gone home to her parents, she had stayed in town and taken a job at The Club. It was disgusting and embarrassing, but she had resolved to stick with it till the fall semester. It paid well. She had just 6 weeks to go.

One good thing that she might never have discovered otherwise, Jenny could now believe that she really was sexy. All her life she had considered herself dull and plain, maybe “cute” on a good day. She wore clothes that were cheap and comfortable and didn’t draw attention to her. When she started at The Club, she had nothing sexy to wear at all. Her first day she had worn her junior high school uniform, now two sizes too small, pleated skirt and all, (it seemed to work.) By the time she’d bought some new costumes, her confidence had grown tremendously. Everybody, both men and women (including the other dancers) kept telling her how pretty and sexy and hot she was.

The other girls at The Club were pretty, but they all had minor flaws—a sag here, a bulge there, proportions off, bad complexion, whatever. Jenny was flawless. Even as she learned to walk in high heels, it began to really sink into her that she was actually beautiful. It translated directly into money. She did well on tips every night, even though she stayed on the stage, cool and aloof (actually embarrassed), while all the other girls made their biggest tips out on the floor, one-on-one.

When he came back for her answer, Jenny felt she already knew more about him than he did about her. He had seen her on stage, but that was all an act. The sheet of paper she still had in her hand, though, contained a list of everything he wanted in life. She WAS everything he wanted. It also revealed his name—“Don”.

“I’m still willing to forget everything if you let me go now,” she told him as he sat down. “So far, it’s nothing worse than a kinky date gone bad.”

“I need an answer, Jenny,” he said calmly, “A, B or C. I have to go through with this now. I’ll never do something like this again, or have the opportunity. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me.”

Jenny hoped that being kidnapped by insane strangers wouldn’t be commonplace in HER life.

She begged and pleaded with him. She argued his sense of fairness (he had spent so much effort to “balance” options A, B, & C, he was probably obsessed with “bargains” and “fairness”). She tried to get him to sympathize with her suffering. She tried to get him to rationally consider the consequences. She appealed to his own self-image: was this the kind of man he really was? She tried every kind of persuasion she could remember from her undergrad Behavior classes. Nothing worked.

Eventually, she settled for the brainwashing “choice”. She could only hope that Don would stick to the program that he had outlined.

Don began right away. Afterwards, Jenny had only a vague memory of the next two weeks. He had a slide show prepared on his laptop, projecting on the blank wall. He had a number of tapes that he played on the stereo. He made her read flash cards aloud. He made her memorize long sequences. Sometimes they ran through the whole program, sometimes they concentrated on just one idea. She would repeat it over and over. She would repeat back dozens and dozens of different ways of saying the same thing.

When she got something right, Don would give her a chocolate chip cookie. He rigged her chair with some sort of device that gave her an electric shock whenever he hit his remote control. He zapped her if she got something wrong, or paused too long, or got off-subject. She almost laughed when he pulled out a gold pocket-watch on a chain to hypnotize her. She wasn’t sure how successful he was, but she was so tired at that point, it felt like she was in a trance.

He had all sort of makeshift restraints that he used. At one point he suspended her upside-down by her ankles, turned off the lights, and left her there for an hour with the room totally black. He left the music playing, and she could hear his voice in the background, repeating all his commands, over and over. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be subliminal or what.

She couldn’t figure out when Don ate or slept, because they seemed to be doing something 24 / 7. She got odd naps. After a few days, she couldn’t stop giggling and treating each new indoctrination like some sort of kindergarten game. Don stuck to his outline. She never caught him trying to introduce anything new or scary to what he wanted. She soon celebrated every time she earned a cookie. She almost never got punished.

Don announced that it was day 12, but Jenny had lost all track. He told her that he would give her a substantial indemnity when he let her go. Not a gift, not a wage, but compensation for her suffering and inconvenience. He seemed very obsessive about it being an “indemnity”. Like that would get the guy off the hook once she was free. Jenny took heart that he was at least talking about letting her go.

Jenny woke up sitting in her car, parked in front of her apartment. Don had released her at the end of day 12. She never learned any of the details of how he had grabbed her or how he let her go. She had been so tired at the end that he could have dragged her home by her hair and she wouldn’t have woken up. Sitting on her lap was a plain white envelope with $12,000 cash in it. A thousand a day.

She didn’t file a police report. She had no evidence whatsoever. She moved out of her apartment, and moved in with Alice. Alice was the friend who had been most cautionary about her working at The Club. She told her the whole story, along with all the details about Don that she could remember. She wrote it all down. If she disappeared again, she wanted everyone to know where to start looking. The scariest thing about the whole episode (except waking up blind, tied to a chair) was finding out that no one realized that she had been gone. There had been no search, no panic, nothing.

She spent a couple days thinking things over, and talking with Alice. Jenny couldn’t come up with any way her personality had been changed. She still didn’t drink, but in the past if she had more than one drink an evening, she just got sick. She still didn’t smoke, although on stage she sometimes lit a cigarette as part of her act. She DIDN’T do any of the things Don had wanted her to stop, and she ALREADY did all of the things he wanted her to do. In the end, she decided that the fact that she didn’t consider him to be dangerous must be an idea he had planted. But, try as she might, she couldn’t logically convince herself that he WAS dangerous.

Jenny decided to return to The Club and continue dancing. She wasn’t going to let Don’s obsessions control her life. The Fall semester started in 4 weeks, and she had promised herself that she would stick with it till then.

Of course, she thought sarcastically; I could always drop out of school, take up prostitution, and become a heroin junkie. That would show my defiance of Don’s whole “rescue” program! But seriously, I’ll just have to keep my life on the same track it was before, till I can be sure I have my own feelings sorted out.

Until Jenny stepped onto the stage at The Club, she had come to believe that her abduction hadn’t had much effect on her. As she began her first number, the law of unintended consequences hit her like an ocean wave. Doing this was Wrong. Being a stripper was NAUGHTY. And she LOVED it. Suddenly her dancing, which she used to have to push herself to get through, was exciting and rebellious and defiant and incredibly arousing. In the past, she had tried to avoid eye contact, now she sought it out, looking for each guy’s reaction as she shed her clothes just for him.

By the end of the evening she was wrung out—and exhilarated. She couldn’t wait for her next shift. Clyde had docked her 3 days’ fees for nights she had signed on for but hadn’t shown (at least someone was aware she’d been gone). Now she eagerly signed on for extra shifts, claiming she wanted to make up lost time.

That week, her life began to revolve around The Club. Mornings she went to gym to tone and trim. She bought 6-inch heels to wear on stage and began to wear her 4-inch (former) stage heels everywhere else. Thankfully her ballet exercises had given her arches a lot of strength and flexibility. She had herself waxed hairless and agreed to drop the G-string and strip down to just her heels. She often left the stage now and went out on the floor to do table dances, and, eventually, lap dances and the private rooms. She was appearing six nights a week.

“You’re out of control, Jenny,” Alice warned, “This guy Don must have messed you up in ways even you don’t realize. You’ve got to stop this and get some help.”

“I’ve been trying to figure this out.” Jenny replied, as much to herself as to Alice. “It can’t be just the ‘naughty’ aspect of it. And I don’t feel out of control at all, just the opposite. However lewd it might look to someone else, I know that I have a line that I won’t ever cross. And I can push right up to the very edge of that line now, without any fear that it might get blurred. It’s like I have such total confidence in myself and my own virtue now that I can tease and flirt without worrying it will go too far.”

“That is still messed up,” Alice said, “You might feel OK, but you’re acting outrageous.”

Jenny promised to back off at the end of summer break, and get counseling if Alice still thought it was necessary.

That night at The Club, Don was sitting in the back corner. If she felt delightfully naughty before, it was magnified tenfold by his presence. It was like her grandfather the minister had just caught her red-handed doing something bad. She caught his look of surprise and disappointment when he saw her. She waited till her act was almost over, and she was stark naked, to click across the stage over to him. Jenny felt a strange sense of power over him, and being high up on the stage and even further up on her 6-inch heels added to that.

“I’m surprised to find you here still,” Don said meekly, “Thank you for not reporting me.”

Jenny waited as Don looked up at her, then put forward one leg and tapped her toe right in front of him. He took out a $20 bill and tucked it in her ankle strap. It gave her an electric feeling of power over him. She leaned down to speak to him.

“You could have just posted a 3x5 card on the bulletin board in the Psych Dept.” She said, “For what you pay, lots of girls would have been interested in a little brainwashing experiment.”

Jenny straightened up and turned, ending the conversation. On impulse, she extended her other leg and again tapped her toe, demanding further tribute. Don obediently produced another $20 and put it in the strap of her other shoe.

As she got backstage, she was hyper-ventilating and flush with excitement. She had been almost overpowered by one of the last sensations she’d ever expect in this place—a feeling of Dominance. It was like a drug. Her hands and voice were still shaking when she asked to doorman to watch when Don left and get his license plate. He asked if she was in trouble, but Jenny assured him it was only a precaution.

“You’re sure you’re OK?” He asked later, “You sounded pretty shaken up. He left right after you talked to me.”

“I’m fine. We have a deal going, and I wanted to have some way to track him down, but so far everything is OK.” Jenny wasn’t sure why she was covering up for Don.

He handed her the license plate number written on the back of a credit card slip. “He put his drinks on his card, I had Sally save the slip.” He grinned.

The rest of the evening she felt an exultant sense of control, not just over her own situation, but over the customers as well. She felt like she was in total command of their reactions and behavior, even their thoughts. Her emotions were so strong and her enjoyment so intense that she began to be frightened by it.

The next day Jenny went to her Psychology Professor, and explained to her what had happened. Jenny asked to be hypnotized to find out if Don had planted any secret instructions that would explain her odd reactions and behavior at The Club. Hours later, her Professor woke her up and told her the results.

“The only suggestions this ‘Don’ fellow made were the ones you told me about. They are all rooted very, very strongly.”

“Then why am I acting so weird?” Jenny cried, “I love it, and I don’t want to stop. Is something wrong with me?”

“Don has reinforced some of your values,” her Prof explained, “Up from vaguely held beliefs to fanatic compulsions. But it is a very limited list. There’s a lot of gray areas. Apparently your mind has extended your new certainty about these moral issues into what used to be ambiguous subjects for you. Everything is divided by a bright line now—love/hate, black/white, good/bad. Stripping at The Club was something you did before, so it falls under ‘good’ and you ‘love’ it.”

“Is that it, or is there more?”

“Lots more. This all falls under ‘unintended side effects and demonstrates why it’s not a good idea to fool around with this stuff. You’ll probably be stumbling across unusual reactions for months. I’ve got one clear example I discovered, though. Do you like to view porn?”

“No!”

“Do you buy it? Help support it?”

“No!”

“Appear in it? Produce it?”

“Yuck! No, of course not!”

“Would you pose for the Centerfold of a national magazine?”

“Sure. It would be great publicity and really boost my career. And probably a lot more dignified and artistic that what I do at The Club now!” Jenny stopped abruptly, realizing how at odds her last answer was with those she gave previously. She also worried that she thought of stripping as her “career”.

“You see? As soon as you got across some invisible line in your mind, you flip from revulsion to enthusiasm. You actually sounded eager. Your head is full of these self-defined boundaries now. The bad news is—I don’t think I can root them out, they’re a function of your real beliefs, just artificially boosted. The good news is—the false clarity that seems so intense to you now will fade over time and be gone in a few weeks or months if not reinforced.”

Jenny left her Professor’s office re-assured that Don hadn’t deliberately screwed her up, but she thought the “bright line” explanation was a little lame to explain her extreme emotions.

Her next stop was a large Private Investigation Agency. She provided Don’s name, credit card, and license plate and asked for a full report on him. She wanted everything—boxers or briefs, 3rd grade discipline notes, tax liens, family, friends, neighbors, favorite breakfast cereal. She had plenty of money to satisfy her curiosity, she was spending part of what Don had given her.

Even with her new understanding of why she was enjoying herself so much, that night at The Club was glorious for her. Her Professor hadn’t been able to explain Jenny’s sudden feelings of Domination, but to Jenny it was all good. She wasn’t out there earning tips, she was demanding her due tribute from the contemptible worms. She was the high point of their day, and just being allowed to watch her was more than they deserved.

Clyde noticed her new attitude and spoke to her about it. She expected a reprimand, something about “pleasing the clients”, but instead he encouraged her. “Clients can tell when a girl is enjoying herself, and some of them enjoy being intimidated.” Jenny was earning more than ever.

After two days, Don showed up again. Once more, Jenny’s emotions intensified ten-fold. Her arousal and excitement were so strong that she barely managed to stay upright and go over to where he was sitting.

“Thank you again,” he said. “I took your advice and did up a card.” He held up a white notecard.

It read: “Wanted—Subject for behavior experiment. 10 days, 24 hrs/day. Total pay $5,000. Contact [Don] for details.”

She handed it back to him without saying anything. She kept reminding herself that he was a dangerous psycho, but couldn’t help thinking he was actually harmless. The pathetic loser was stuffing another $20 in the ankle strap of her shoe.

On impulse, she said; “That, too.” She pointed at the card, and he folded it and stuck it in next to the $20.

“You’ve got to be crazy!” Alice yelled, “And, given the circumstances, that’s no idle phrase. That guy is a Creep, Big Time! You’re not going back there! After what he did to you, you’re not thinking straight.”

“I handled it fine before, it wasn’t so bad. The money is good. And this time I’ll have a lot more control.” Jenny tried to explain her decision to her roommate. “I already called Don to tell him I’d do it. Now I’m just trying to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Despite what she said, Jenny knew that Alice was right. Her brain knew that Don was crazy and dangerous, but her heart didn’t believe it. Brain came back with: “And that’s because he spent 12 straight days brainwashing you and making you repeat stuff like ‘Don’s such a nice guy!’” Rational logic wasn’t going to win this one. She knew her head was messed up, and her subconscious was responding bizarrely to Don’s seemingly innocent program.

But she liked it. She no longer dressed cheap, formless and drab. Now she looked sharp and fashionable; her clothes were appropriate, professional, and sexy. People noticed her. And last night at The Club she was practically dripping with arousal and excitement. Near the end of her shift she had agreed to a private performance in one of the side rooms. She had grabbed the guy’s belt, and yanked it free, causing his pants to fall to the floor. She had shoved him over a chair and spanked him, hard, with his own belt, for quite some time. It was not what either of them had expected. She told him what a slug he was and that he should go home to his wife and try to do something better with his life. Jenny picked up his money clip, which had fallen out of his pants, tossed him enough for cab fare and kept the rest. It was several hundred dollars. She left him there, whimpering. She didn’t even know if he was into that sort of scene, or just afraid of her. She was a little afraid of herself. She had just broken any number of house rules.

Though Jenny didn’t know the exact cause of her personality change, she knew that it would fade over time—unless it was reinforced. That was why she had taken time off at The Club, cleared everything off her schedule until the Fall Semester started, made sure Alice and everyone knew where she was, and now was knocking at Don’s door.

When Don opened the door and looked at her, he saw her in a whole new light. She had on white sneakers, jeans, and a tank top. Her hair was in a ponytail, she had an overnight bag, and she was wearing her glasses. She looked every inch the fresh-scrubbed, small-town, college girl that she was.

“You wear glasses.” Was Don’s opening remark, as he stared at her face.

“All the time, except at The Club.” She answered casually, while thinking—“I OWN him!”

It wasn’t just the glasses, but they were symbolic of the rest of the package. Somehow she got a sense of power from being Don’s ideal fantasy. It was an even bigger turn-on that he didn’t even realize yet how exactly she fulfilled his every wet dream.

The detectives’ report had been thorough and impressive. Don had lived a certifiably uneventful life. He had no criminal, psychological, or medical history. Everyone gave him glowing references. He volunteered for charity and community events. The only remarkable thing in the report was the large numbers of zeroes and commas collected in the figures for his Income, Net Worth, and Credit Rating.

“Before we start anything, I want to spend the afternoon giving you some background and setting some ground rules.” Jenny took charge, something she did all the time, now.

She began to tell him about her history. It turned out they read the same books, even very obscure ones. They liked the same movies. They shared the same opinions. By the time Jenny mention being her high school’s valedictorian, Don was just gazing at her awestruck, open-mouthed and practically drooling. She used her glasses shamelessly, gazing out over them, or giving them a slight adjustment when making a point.

“Last time I was continuously terrified, which put me in a receptive, suggestible state.” Jenny told him, “So this time we will have to try harder, much harder. I’m willing to do more extreme techniques, and I’ll help you with better feedback, and we can concentrate on the stuff that worked best last time. I intend to earn my cookies.”

“Why are you doing this?” Don asked, “All the effort and hardship—for nothing. Its all redundant for you.”

“Well, for one, I’m going to write a term paper on my experience. I already worked out the details with my Psych Professor, and you’re going to help me keep detailed notes.” Jenny explained, “And the money is good. But the main reason is that somehow this makes me so fucking hot when I’m stripping at The Club. I don’t know why, and I’m not really buying my Professor’s explanation, but I love the feeling so much, I want to lock it in forever. I’ve also had this surge of confidence that has transformed my life for the better.”

This time, when Jenny settled into the familiar chair in Don’s basement, her heart was racing again, but with excitement, not fear. As Don activated his sound system and slide show, she relaxed and focused on going along with it.

Don and Jenny were married at the end of the following school year. All of Jenny’s friends said that Don was perfect for her. (Well, except Alice, who still had a few reservations.) All of Don’s friends said she was perfect for him. His friends wondered how a guy so shy and withdrawn ever managed to meet such a hot babe.

Jenny continued to dance naked for tips at The Club, and began to schedule private sessions as a professional dominatrix. None of that seemed to carry over into her life with Don. When she was with him she was sweet and proper and even a little bit shy and quiet. She never tried to punish or humiliate him. Whenever they made love, though, she had to initiate it, and control everything they did. She also took charge of Don’s life. She told him what to wear. She decided where and when they would dine out. She planned their week-ends. On major decisions, she made a point of consulting him and listening to and considering his opinions. Somehow that just made it all the more obvious that the final decision was hers, and hers alone, to make.

Don did not object. Everything she decided for them, even the things that applied only to him, he agreed with. It was what he would have done anyway. He let her be in charge because she got such a kick out of it, and she hadn’t abused the responsibility. Don had decided not to fight his lovely wife’s growing need for dominance, it was easier to just go along with it.