The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Scott groaned softly, rolling over in his bed. His head ached with what felt like the king of all hangovers, even though he hadn’t touched a drop of liquor in years. It was evidently morning; the tiny trace of sunlight shining through his tightly closed eyelids was searing into his brain like a high powered laser. Groaning again, he pulled his pillow over his head, sheltering his throbbing head once more in blessed darkness.

He’d been having the single strangest dream of his life. In it, he had become some kind of a super hero, or James Bond... or maybe a combination of the two, able to thrash arrogant bullies with a mere flick of his wrist, and able to seduce the hottest women into his bed with a glance and a word. The dream had culminated with him whisking his new conquest back to his apartment, and engaging in a night sex and debauchery, the likes of which he had only read about in bad romance novels. He sighed softly, remembering how realistic it had all felt, the sensation of the young girl’s sweet supple mouth sucking his cock, wishing he could have actually experienced something like that himself.

Then, his eyes opened, and he sat up, fully awake, noticing for the first time, that he actually was experiencing something unusual right now. With a gasp, he pulled back the covers, and jerked back, falling out of bed at the sight of the young brunette smiling hungrily back up at him, her mouth and face wet from her enthusiastic ministrations with his manhood. Reaching up to the night stand for his glasses, he quickly donned them, then gasped in shock as recognition flooded his being.

“Patty Seivers?” Scott stated, gaping as the naked little nymph rose to her feet, yawning and stretching, giving him a clear and unobstructed view of her beautiful body before walking up to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hiya, Professor,” she said sleepily. “Sorry if I woke you up. Mmm... I was about to leave and head back to my apartment to get ready for practice, when I thought I’d give myself a little... ‘parting gift’. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to wait for another time.” She sauntered her way across the room, grabbing her cheerleading outfit up from the floor on her way to the bathroom. She paused at the door, giving him a sexy wink, before closing the door behind him.

Scott continued to stare at the door in disbelief for several seconds before returning to his bed, and dropping back down into the mattress. Okay. What the hell just happened here? he asked himself. Am I going crazy, or did one of my most attractive students just slide naked out of my bed, kiss me, and stroll into my bathroom to get cleaned up? He took off his glasses, rubbing them briskly, before putting them back on. Okay. This is not rational. It’s not logical that she could be here. Patricia Seivers is... beautiful. She’s a cheerleader, dating a rising football star here at the University. And she’s smart—she’s actually passing my class, unlike the rest of her cheerleader friends, so I can’t see her being here as part of some scheme to schmooze me into fixing her grades. She simply can’t be here, ergo... she isn’t here. I’m still asleep and dreaming. Yes. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

Leaning over towards his dresser, he picked up a small stick pin from his junk box, and rolled up his left sleeve. There is only one tried and true way to prove I’m still asleep, he thought briskly, holding the pin just above his flesh. And since you don’t really feel pain in a dream, this should prove unequivocally that I am still aslee-eeeeeoouuccchhh!!

“Aaaaahhhh shit!” Scott yelped, clutching his arm, wincing, in pain. Grunting slightly, he pulled the pin out of his flesh, tossing it back into the junk box. “Well, there goes that theory.”

Slumping back down, sighed, trying to figure out what was going on. Okay. So, I’m not asleep. Which means that Patty Seivers is really here... in my apartment... in my bathroom, taking a shower. But.... how? Why? She has a boyfriend... he thought, then frowned, remembering the crazy dream he’d had earlier. Or rather, she had a boyfriend, if I can believe what happened in that dream... His frown deepened. And if I really brought her here from the bar last night... then maybe everything else I dreamed about actually happened. But... that’s impossible! I’m not some suave, debonair ‘chick magnet’! I can barely talk to a girl without getting tongue tied. And... I certainly don’t look the way I did in my dream! He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, wincing slightly as his short scruffy beard rubbed against the unhealed cut on his index finger. The cut reminded him about the accident in the lab the day before... and suddenly, all the pieces began to fall into place.

“Holy shit,” he breathed softly, clutching his hand, staring intently at his finger. “The pheromone serum. That has to be it! I took off my gloves after my finger started bleeding... and the beaker I was handing with my bare hands was sticky from the amount that had splashed out all over the table... not to mention how much I got on my hands cleaning the mess up again.” He shook his head. “Not exactly the way I wanted to start human trial testing of the formula, but from a preliminary standpoint, I can’t argue with the results.”

Moments later the bathroom door opened, and Patty walked out, dressed back in her cheerleader clothes, minus her shoes. “Oh? You’re still awake?” she asked idly, glancing at the clock on the dresser. “I thought you Professors slept in when you didn’t have classes on the weekend.”

“Yes, um, well, actually,” Scott began blushing a bit from the directness of her gaze, “I, um, have some... other projects that I need to, um... work on... and, um since I am, um... already up an awake.... you know...”

Patty giggled. “You know, Professor, Buddy was right. You are just too cute when you get all flustered like that. I’m glad he made me come over here to... ahem... ‘apologize’ to you personally. Who knows? Maybe he’ll catch me being naughty again and make me ‘apologize’ again sometime soon.”

That caught Scott’s attention. “Wait. Hold on a second. Did you say ‘Buddy’? Buddy... sent you over here to me as an... an apology?”

Patty sighed. “Yeah. Apparently me and some friends were dissing you pretty badly last night, and he didn’t take too kindly to it.” She pursed her lips. “I was... really really naughty, Professor... but your friend Buddy set me straight. Now I understand how HOT intelligence really is.” She sighed. “I can believe i used to spend all my time chasing after big empty headed jocks instead of going after all the hot brainiac studs on campus!” She moaned softly. “If Buddy wasn’t as much of a free spirit as I am, I’d definitely claim him as my own... well, the BOTH of you, really!” She leaned forward and gave him another kiss. “Well, I’d better get going. I really do need to stop by my apartment before I show up for Cheerleader practice. See you in class on Monday, Professor!” And with that, she left.

Scott stood there for a few more minutes, staring at the door, rubbing the spot on his lips where she’d kissed him, wearing a goofy grin on his face. Finally, he turned away, and walked over to his desk, where he kept the notes from his experiment, and began re-reading.

Associate Professor Nicholas J. Farnsworth scowled down at the notebook in his hand, harrumphing as he flipped each page, finally tossing the entire thing onto his desk in disgust. “You’re joking. This is a joke. Please tell me you’re joking.” He slid his chair back, standing up to walk around his desk and pace. “You gave a nimrod like Pringle virtually unlimited funds, and resources, and the best he could come up with is synthetic pheromones?” He rolled his eyes. “And he didn’t even start with human pheromones as his genetic template, using a feline instead as the starting point. And you’re actually surprised that he failed miserably?”

Miranda Dixon sighed, tapping her foot impatiently. “Yes, well, social ineptitude notwithstanding, the man IS a renowned molecular biologist. My contact with the perfume industry asked for him specifically.” She shook her head, flipping her long raven hair with a practiced flair. “Anyway, I didn’t call you here to talk about Professor Pringle. The question is, can you succeed where he failed?”

“Certainly!” He replied, affronted. “As if I could do worse than him! I’ll assume I have immediate access to the funds required for this project?”

Miranda frowned slightly. This was something she had been wary of, the main reason why she had chosen to go with Pringle as her first choice rather than Farnsworth. Aside from the moderate cost of obtaining blood samples of every species of tiger, leopard, jaguar, and panther for genetic sampling, Pringle had been content merely to make do with what was available whenever possible, rarely dipping into the available funds, enabling her to transfer out a significant amount into her own personal account. With Farnsworth, the chances of success improved, but her ability to siphon funds away from the project without being noticed would be greatly reduced. Still, the final payoff if one of her people succeeded in creating a powerful fragrance that attracted the opposite sex would be monumental.

“You’ll have access to everything you could possibly need,” she replied offhandedly, turning towards the door. “Just make sure you get results. My contacts are already chomping at the bit to try other avenues, and I’m not sure how much longer I can put them off. I’ve given you full access to Pringle’s lab, and all his research is now yours.”

“Bah. As if I’d use it,” Farnsworth said with a smirk. “I have my own ideas on how to proceed. As soon as I heard about your little project, I started doing some of my own research, on the off chance that you might come to me after Pringle failed to deliver.” Opening his desk, he pulled out a large manila folder. “Instead of going with pheromones, I started looking at the human brain itself, at the chemistry of the brain’s neurotransmitters, and how to affect them. I even have a ‘preliminary formula’ ready to be processed. Give me a few weeks, some money for human test subjects, and a staff to help with the project, and I can guarantee you a successful product.”

Miranda smiled, seeing dollar signs. “Now that’s what I wanted to hear,” she said from the doorway. “I’ll leave you to your work, Professor. Just keep me posted on your progress.”

Okay. I suppose I have a pretty good idea on what I am dealing with now, Scott thought to himself, sipping his pineapple-peach Julius, rubbing the side of his sore cheek. First of all, the effect of the serum is apparently NOT permanent. I am obviously no longer irresistible to women, or even attractive. Nor do I have any of the enhanced confidence, charisma... or the enhanced reflexes of the form I took on last night. Note to self: next time I try out cheesy pickup lines on a random woman in the food court, make sure I am out of slapping range.

Sipping again, he flipped to the next page of his small pocket notebook. Also, I am reasonably sure that the effect of the serum caused a full body change, on the cellular, possibly genetic level. The persona from my dream, or rather, I should say, ‘altered state’, did not appear to need glasses, whereas I am virtually blind without mine. His appearance was also somewhat different from my own, if I can trust the image I saw reflected back in the barroom mirror. Where I have mousy brown hair and eyes, and pale acne covered skin, he sported a thick wavy blonde mane, grey eyes, and a clear, lightly tanned complexion. I suppose I’m actually quite lucky I didn’t wake up as some hybrid man-cat creature! If I had to guess... I’d say the change occurred on the genetic level... which is of course, practically impossible, the stuff of fantasy literature... and yet it’s the only explanation for what I experienced. And as my favored author, Sir Conan Doyle was want to say, ‘when you have eliminated the possible, whatever remains, no matter how improbably, must be true’.

He sighed softly, getting to his feet, tossing the empty cup into the trash can. So. I guess the next step is to see if I can recreate the same results in a controlled environment. It seems somewhat disreputable to experiment on myself this way... but I can’t rightly expose someone else to this serum until I know the full effects, and since I’ve already been exposed once anyway, the risk to myself is minimal. Leaving the food court, he made his way back to his car. Backing out, he glanced behind him, checking to make sure the way was clear, only to slam on brakes quickly as a dark blue Ford Focus swerved quickly towards him. As he watched, helpless, the car continued on, slamming hard into his backside, knocking him forward, causing his front end to slam into the side of the black SUV parked next to him.

“Owww!” he grunted, the wind momentarily knocked out of him as his chest hit the steering wheel. The impact from behind had been full force, but with his car in reverse the forward impact was much less, the result of being shoved forward. Opening his door, he slid out and checked the vehicle he’d been pushed into. The back right door had been dented, and the pain scraped, but all in all, minor damage, whereas his own car had made contact along the left front headlight, which had shattered and crumpled inward.

“Hey man,” a nasally male voice yelled from behind him. Scott turned to see a tall lanky young man with sandy blonde hair and a surfer’s tan glaring at him. “Like, what’s your deal, man? You, like, totally backed up into me? Don’t you know how to drive, dude?”

Scott blinked. “Wait... what? Are you... you’re saying that... this... this wreck was my fault?” he sputtered, stunned in disbelief. The young man had to be pulling his leg. He’d slammed into Scott doing at least thirty in a parking lot, for goodness sake! He had to realize that the accident was HIS fault! The sandy haired youth, however, continued to glare at him.

“Like, don’t try and play the innocent, dude,” he continued, fidgeting in place, scratching at his left arm. “You backed up out of that parking space like a bat outta hell, man! It’s a miracle you didn’t, like, kill us! My girlfriend over there, her neck is killing her! And mine doesn’t feel that good either!”

Scott, finally shaking off his shock, shook his head. “This was not my fault. You... rammed into me... hit me from behind! You... you were clearly in the wrong... not to mention going too fast—”

“Hey! What the FUCK?!?” a loud feminine voice shouted from Scott’s left. Whirling around, he spotted a very large, very muscular very busty redheaded woman in leggings, headband and a warm up suit. Her brow was crinkled in anger as she stormed her way towards them, and Scott groaned inwardly; she had to be the owner of the SUV he’d hit. “What the hell is this shit? Who hit my truck? Was it you?” she asked, glaring daggers at Scott, who visibly paled, taking a step back.

“Well, um, I, er, I mean, yes,” he began, sweating slightly, “I did... technically, I mean... my car... it hit your SUV... but it was—”

“You asshole!” she growled, grabbing him by the collar, lifting him up off the ground. “You fucking asshole! You better have damn good insurance, Poindexter, or I’m gonna take the cost of the repairs out of your scrawny little hide!”

By now, a crowd had gathered around to watch the fiasco. Scott, never truly comfortable in front of large amounts of people, continued to sputter and stutter his innocence, only managing to infuriate the woman holding him further, all the while being insulted and egged on by the blonde surfer dude. Eventually the police arrived, demanding to know what had occurred. They separated Scott and the angry woman, pulling all parties aside to get the complete story from each person involved. For a tense few minutes it seemed as if he would take total blame for the accident, but eventually a young black man in the crowd stepped forward as an eyewitness, corroborating Scott’s version, putting him in the clear. Furthermore, a quick search of the surfer dude’s car turned up a small stash of marijuana, confirming the suspicion that young man was high.

“Sorry about all this confusion, Mister Pringle,” the officer said as the last of the spectators were cleared away. “You’re free to go. Doesn’t look like your vehicle is drivable though. Do you need to call to have someone come by to pick you up?”

Scott sighed deeply. He lived alone, and had no close friends, no one who could be called on for assistance. “Um, just call me a Jiffy Cab, if you could, please? Oh, and a towing company, I guess, for my car.”

“I can do that,” the officer replied, nodding. “I have the information for those other drivers, for your insurance, if you need it,” he replied, handing Scott a small piece of paper. “The boy is going to be charged for driving under the influence. Would you mind coming downtown later to file an official report?”

“Yes sir. Um, I mean no. I mean, no, I don’t mind. I’d be happy to,” he finished weakly. Sighing softly to himself, he walked back to the wreck of his little Honda Civic, and leaned against the side. This day has really turned out rotten. And to think, it had started off so nice...

“Sorry it took so long to get here,” Elizabeth Paulin apologized to her date several hours later as she slid into restaurant booth. “It’s been one really shitty day. First, there’s a problem with the Luxford account, and Brennan starts raising all kinds of holy hell about having to come in on a Saturday to fix everything before the presentation on Monday. As if we were the reason he had to come in and mingle with the rest of us ‘common folk’. Anyway, we finally get things straightened out on that end, and I head to the gym to work out and relieve some stress, and when I get out, some asshole has rammed into the side of my truck!” She rolled her eyes. “In a fucking parking lot, no less. Turned out it was the fault of some stoner kid... anyway, by the time that whole mess was straightened out, I was late getting home, and I showered, brushed, and dressed as fast as I could to get here to meet you.” She sighed softly. “So... have you been waiting long?”

“Not that long, really,” her date, Karen Caldwell replied, reaching out to caress the back of her hand. “It’s fine. I ordered us some wine... a little something to relax you a bit. And from the sound of things, you could certainly use it.”

“Well, I’m more of a scotch and soda fan than a wine connoisseur,” Elizabeth quipped, taking a small sip, “but I definitely appreciate the gesture.”

The two lovers talked, chatting about their day, and their plans for the night, and soon enough the days minor annoyances were all forgotten. At one point, Karen stood up to go to the bathroom. “You know what I like, hon,” she said sweetly, leaning forward to kiss her lips. “Just order for me if the waiter returns before I get back.”

Elizabeth smiled, watching her lover walk away with an exaggerated sway of her hips. Her view was interrupted, however, by a large blonde man with in an apron. “Pardon me, Miss Paulin, but would you like to order now?” Elizabeth frowned, sighing inwardly, picking up the menu, giving it the once over.

“Wow, you got here faster than I thought. Let me see... hmm... I think we’ll go with the chicken alfredo, and a Caesar salad for myself... and the shrimp scampi for my dinner mate, with a salad as well...”

“Hmmm, good choices,” the man replied, writing it down on a small notebook. “And to drink? We have a lovely selection of house wines, if you’re interested?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Not really much on wine. Diet coke and a sprite will be just fine.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’d think a lovely young sophisticated woman such as yourself would have a palate accustomed to the finer things in life, such as a nice bottle of Chardonnay.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps a nice Sherry?”

“No thank you, just soda,” Elizabeth replied brusquely, folding her menu, pushing it aside. She glanced back towards the restroom door, wondering when Karen would return, the conversation already forgotten, only to sigh in frustration as the waiter walked back into her line of view.

“So you don’t have a taste for Sherry, eh?” the blonde waiter said with a knowing smirk. “Well, you certainly have a taste for Karen, with the way you’re staring at the bathroom door. I was going to go out on a limb and assume you ‘batted for the other team’, but with the way you stared at her ass as she walked away, and keep looking towards the bathroom door, I guess it’s not much of a stretch is it?”

Annoyed now, Elizabeth glared up at the rude and obnoxious waiter. “Listen, friend, my sexual orientation is none of your damn business!” she said in a low deep voice, “and if you value your job, your life, and the part of you that identifies you as a man, I suggest you apologize, and walk back into the kitchen and deliver our orders. Or, better yet, apologize, give the order to someone else, and get the fuck out of here.”

The blonde man, still smirking, paused, as if considering, then shook his head. “No. I think not. First of all, I don’t actually work here,” he said, taking off the apron, tossing it aside. “I convinced one of the waiters to let me borrow it for a while. I thought it would make approaching you easier. Secondly, I think it’s you that owes me an apology. Or rather, a friend of mine... a nice charming young fellow who was rear ended in the parking lot a few hours ago and then assaulted by some steroidal, homicidal, time-of-the-month bitch for something that wasn’t even his fault.” His momentary look of anger vanished as the tirade ended, and he adopted his previous smirk. “And third, it’s not ‘friend’. My name is Buddy.”

“I don’t give a FUCK what your name is!” Elizabeth said loudly, getting to her feet. “If you think for one second you can come in here and try and bully me into apologizing—”

“SIT! DOWN!” Buddy barked at her sharply, glaring back at her intently. Elizabeth, taken aback, slowly dropped back into her seat, staring up at him with wide eyes. “And be QUIET!” Buddy added, pulling up a chair, sitting down next to her. “Manners, girl. Speak when spoken to. This is a public restaurant, after all. People are trying to enjoy a nice meal.”

Elizabeth nodded softly, trying to control the panic she felt welling up inside her. Something strange was going on. A moment ago she’d been ready to cause a scene, to drop the arrogant son of a bitch on the spot with a good right hook if that’s what it took to shut him off. She had never backed down from a fight in her life. Yet, the look on his face, and his eyes, when he’d glared at her in anger, had filled her with an overwhelming sense of fear. When he’d barked at her to sit, it was all she could do not to drop like a stone back into her seat. Something about his words... no, not just that, his mere presence... spoke to something deep inside her, on an instinctual level. From the moment he’d stepped into view to ask for her order, she’d felt something was off. Now, with him sitting next to her, uninvited, she found herself floundering, now knowing how to act or respond.

“Um, hello? I think you’re at the wrong table.”

Elizabeth looked up just as Karen walked into view. “Liz? Who’s your friend? I thought we were having a private meal together tonight?” she said, stressing the word private.

“Ah, and you must be the lovely Miss Caldwell,” Buddy said easily, rising to his feet, extending a hand. “Sorry to intrude on your evening,” he said, shaking her hand briskly, “but I needed to speak to Lizzie here for a moment. You don’t really mind, do you, Karen, dear?”

Karen blinked, rubbing the back of her hand lightly, shaking her head. “Um, I don’t... I mean... I suppose not... no... of course,” she said with a small smile. “Please, by all means, have a seat.”

Buddy sat back down again, turning his attention back to Liz. “Now, then, Lizzie, about that apology... oh!” He glanced over at Karen. “I don’t suppose she mentioned the little fender bender she had earlier, did she? Seems some blonde stoner guy smashed into the back of a good friend of mine, and rammed his car into Lizzie’s SUV. A pity, yes... but completely the fault of the blonde kid, not my friend. Yet Lizzie here was so freaked out about the incident that she went ballistic on my poor friend, who was just as much a victim as she was.” He clucked his tongue. “Now, that doesn’t seem right to you, does it, Karen?”

“No,” Karen replied shaking her head slowly. “That doesn’t seem right at all.”

Elizabeth scowled deeply, trying to figure out what was going on. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why she was just sitting here, calmly, letting this man interfere with her date, insult her, and harass Karen this way. She knew she should have been angry, that under normal circumstances she would have kicked the shit out of him by now or at least made some kind of a scene to have the maître d eject him from the restaurant. Yet, she couldn’t seem to summon up more than a feeling of light indignation mixed with shame, as if she’d been caught doing something naughty and the man was tattling on her.

“So I came here tonight,” Buddy continued, “to see if our little Lizzie here might be persuaded to go to my friend and apologize... you know? To do the right thing.” He grinned again, giving Karen his thousand watt smile. “You agree with that, don’t you, Karen? That Lizzie should do the right thing?”

“Ohh... um, yeah,” Karen said smiling as well, eyes slightly unfocused. “She should... yeah... should do the... right thing...”

Seeing that Karen was fully agreeable, Buddy turned his attention back to Elizabeth. “So... what about it, Lizzie? Do you think you should apologize to my friend for acting like a crazy bitch?”

“Hell no!” Liz blurted out, able to speak again now that she had been addressed directly. “I won’t apologize to that stupid little wuss! If anything, he should apologize to me for being too much of a PUSSY to talk to me face to face, and sending you in his place!” Eyes wide, Elizabeth covered my mouth with her hands. She hadn’t meant to blurt any of that out loud. She’d planned to agree, to pretend to play along and apologize to the little Poindexter... anything to get her out of her current situation, and get rid of that strange man. Instead, she’d opened her mouth and told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing BUT the truth.

Buddy stared at her for a long moment. “I see,” he said after a moment, tapping his fingers along the tabletop. “I see. Well, Lizzie, it seems that you don’t know how to be a decent, reasonable person at all, do you? You’re the completely unrepentant, even knowing that you were in the wrong.”

“Stop... calling me Lizzie!” she hissed, again feeling more indignation than anger. “My name is Elizabeth. I hate it when people call me Lizzie!”

“Ah, but Elizabeth is the name of an adult... a reasonable, and decent adult. Lizzie is the name of a petulant brat, an annoying child prone to tantrums... and that is what you are, Lizzie... a child.” He sighed dramatically. “One would think your parents had trained you better when you were younger... but obviously, they skimped out on your discipline. I suppose it can’t be helped. I shall have to discipline you myself.”

Elizabeth looked back at him as if he’d suddenly grown two more heads. “You can’t be serious. Surely you don’t think I am going to just sit here and let you—”

“Yes I do, young lady,” Buddy said firmly, reaching down and removing the thick brown leather belt from his pants. “And don’t call me ‘Shirley’. Now, Lizzie, be a good little girl and come bend over in my lap. Time for you to take your punishment.”

Lizzie found herself standing, against her will, and, with a quick glance around the room, made her way over to the strange man’s seat. Glancing around once again, grateful they had taken a booth in the back of the restaurant, she bent over at the waist, laying herself across the young man’s lap. Why the hell am I doing this? she asked herself furiously, as she lifted the hem of her dress, exposing her thong covered behind to a stranger. What the hell is going on? Why am I doing whatever he tells me?

“Hmmm... nice ass,” Buddy commented, running a hand lightly across the soft pale skin, feeling goose bumps form with each pass. “Very tender. It’s obvious it hasn’t felt a good strong spanking in a very long time, if any.” He smiled as the redhead gasped, then moaned softly at his touch. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe Lizzie acts like a bitch because she wants to be disciplined. Is that it, little Lizzie? Do you want me to spank your hot sexy little bottom until its red as an apple and burning as hot as a bonfire? Is that what you want, little Lizzie?”

“Yesss, please!” she begged shamelessly, the words seeming to escape her lips before she could help it. “Spank me!” she begged again. Wait! What am I doing? I don’t want to be... I mean... I really don’t... don’t wanna feel that... I don’t... I... “Tan my lily white hide!” she blurted out again, squirming slightly in his lap, the motion making her thighs rub together enticingly, sending tingles through her overly sensitive clit. “Punish me like the naughty girl I am!”

Karen frowned, slowly shaking her head. Something about what was going on seemed... off to her. She didn’t know why, or what exactly... but she had the feeling that this stranger, as nice as he was, shouldn’t be spanking her girlfriend like this in public. “Wait a minute,” she said, shaking her head again. “This... isn’t right. You can’t... she’s my...”

“Oh, of course!” Buddy said, grabbing Karen’s hand again, rubbing the back of it lightly with his thumb. “I am very sorry, Miss Karen. Forgive me for overstepping my bounds. Lizzie IS your property, after all. I should have asked you if I could spank your naughty little slave slut before simply diving in. Even if it IS my place to punish her, one should always ask permission after all.”

Karen nodded slowly, the smile returning to her lips. Yes, that made sense. Buddy should have asked her before disciplining her naughty slave slut first. Lizzie was a handful at times, and often got herself into trouble, but a good domme had to maintain control over these situations. After all, she couldn’t let just every Tom, Dick, and Harry pound away at that sweet tender little ass... at least not unless her Owner allowed them to. Feeling a surge of confidence, she nodded magnanimously to Buddy. “Permission granted. After all, she did insult you and your friend. It’s only right that you get to deliver the punishment.”

Buddy chuckled. “Too true, too true. But... tell you what? Why don’t you give her the first couple of slaps, Karen? Kind of... break her in for me. I must confess, I am... rather new at this sort of thing. I’d love to see the ‘proper’ way a Domme such as yourself delivers a punishment to her naughty girl.”

Karen’s grin turned evil as her pliant mind absorbed his words and her subconscious filled in the blanks. “Of course,” she said, licking her lips, sliding her chair closer to Buddy’s, while the man continued to caress her hand and Lizzie’s bare ass. “The real key here is to make sure it’s truly a punishment, not a pleasure. Sluts like Lizzie here get off on the humiliation as well as the pain, so it’s a bit of a balancing act to keep her from enjoying it too much.”

“Yes,” he murmured softly, “she does seem like the kind that would enjoy being disciplined. I can practically feel her wetness seeping through my pant leg from her position on my lap. Now, Lizzie... I believe the proper thing to do is to count off each of the swats you receive, thank your Mistress for delivering it, then ask her for another.” He glanced to Karen. “That is how it goes, eh, Mistress Karen?”

Mistress Karen? “Indeed,” Karen replied regally with a twinge, starting to really get into the role. Reaching out, she grabbed Lizzie by her hair, yanking it hard. “You heard him, bitch! Count off every last swat, and you’d damn well better NOT cum unless I tell you, or this little spanking will seem like a tickle once I get you home! Do you understand me?”

“Y-y-yes Mistress!” Lizzie squeaked, squirming even more in Buddy’s lap. Shame and humiliation twisted in her gut, sending flutters straight up into her sex, causing her to juice even more. She pondered briefly whether she was even capable of obeying Mistress Karen’s order not to cum until permitted, then groaned softly, contemplating what even more diabolical punishment she would be facing once they returned home from the restaurant.

THWAP! “Ahhhhh! One, Mistress!” Lizzie gasped, jerking at the unexpected contact. “Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?” THWAP! “T-two! Thank you, Mistress, may I please have another?”

Buddy grinned, sighing in satisfaction as the girl in his lap swayed and shimmied and groaned out her frustrations. His manhood was rising rapidly, no doubt noticed by the girl lying across him. Instead of disgust, or revulsion, the highly sexed girl seemed to relish it, grinding into him even harder, caught up in the moment, with pain and pleasure assaulting her senses. It was, he realized, amazing simple to twist both of these young women’s desires, to make them dance to his tune. For a moment he’d wondered whether his unnatural attraction would even affect two confirmed lesbians, but it seemed then once he was in, once he’d fully established his influence, his options were virtually limitless. He was relatively sure he could convince both women to strip naked for him and take turns blowing him underneath the table if he’d wanted.

Ah, but where’s the fun in that? he asked himself, grinning with enjoyment as the hapless Lizzie climaxed hard in his lap on swat number nine. It is much more fun to make small subtle alterations, and watch them change right before my eyes. He raised an eyebrow as Karen pulled back on Lizzie’s hair again, verbally berating the girl for disobeying her. Still, this isn’t totally about my own personal entertainment. I need to remember my overall goal here. After all, a man without a plan is not a man. And do I intend to be a man... no matter what it takes...