The Pin
By Mr. Quick
It was so simple.
Mark rolled the sliver of metal between his fingers and marveled at it. It had an opalescent sheen to it that picked up every trace of light in his dimly lit workstation. The head of the pin was capped with a small dark red jewel surrounded by a tight lattice of fine wire. It looked a bit like a short hatpin and could easily be mistaken for any number of body adornments.
So simple.
Mark leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and pictured the chain of events. It had begun with a bet. No. It had begun with an argument that ended in making a bet…
Sarah glared at Mark with her arms folded across her chest. Mark wondered how she could hold her body so stiffly without cramping up. She stood with her slender frame balanced evenly on her feet. Her bright green eyes dominated her perfect oval face, which at the moment held a pensive scowl. Shaking her sandy blonde head of hair, she said, “It’s unprovable speculation. If humans were telepathic and if they had the desire to control other people, to say that no one could resist it simply because it is telepathic is…well, it isn’t much of a position, is it?”
Mark pursed his lips for a moment before responding. He had anticipated Sarah’s response, but he did not want to make that too obvious. He liked watching her when she was riled up. It made her bosom heave. He liked heaving bosoms, hers in particular, but he tried not to let on. “Let me take you points in reverse, if I may. I agree, it is not much of a position, but the point it arguable nonetheless. I did not mean to imply that telepathic control would be irresistible, but that telepathic hypnosis would be much more potent than the more standard variety. Lastly, I do not believe the speculation is unprovable.”
“So you are saying that humans are telepathic?” She asked with a distinct tone of skepticism.
“I’d bet my life that I’m right.”
“I’ll take that bet.” With that she turned and strode out of his lab. He watched her loose ponytail swish as she walked away. She did not know it yet, Mark mused, but she just made a deal with the Devil.
All humans are telepathic, just to a very slight degree. It was so simple Mark wondered why more people had not discovered it yet. Every impulse in a brain basically was an electric charge. When it moved from one neuron to another, it created a tiny magnetic field. That was basic physics. Telepathy was the merely the ability to pick up these fields and interpret them. That part was tricky. Finding a way to influence them was trickier, but not impossible.
The key was power. Most of the time the level of power in question was so minute it was difficult to measure. A piece of email spam solved that problem for him. He never ignored anything, which was why he was a good researcher. He even looked over his spam emails. One of them was selling a cell phone booster antenna. Brilliant! That was what he needed. He needed an antenna to boost the signal. After experimenting with various alloys and sizes, he discovered he needed only a short length of material for the desired results. His simulations indicated that the antenna would need to be in direct contact with the person in question to operate and that the information flow would be mostly one way. Again, that was a scale problem. Because his equipment was not designed to manipulate energy in such small amounts, the signals sent to the antenna were several thousand times stronger than an organic impulse. They tended to overwhelm other signals in the vicinity. It may have hindered Mark from reading thoughts, but it made inserting them so much easier.
It was late. Mark knew he was one of only two people still working in the entire building. Sarah, of course, was the other. Even George the night watchman was gone for the next hour as he toured the outer perimeter. He could picture her clearly at her desk, tirelessly checking and re-checking facts. She would sit there, posture correct, wearing her no nonsense shoes, lab coat draped over a plain blouse and mid-length skirt fastidiously covering up most of her femininity. He sighed. There would never be a better time than now. He picked up the phone to call her extension when he paused, suddenly at a loss. What should he say? He hadn’t planned that part. Did he tell her ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve perfected a mind control device. Would you like to come over so I can try it on you?’ No, that wouldn’t do; he realized what would. Like him, she was curious by nature. All he really had to tell her was that he had something to show her and she’d come voluntarily.
He made the call. After he hung up, he had to adjust himself. He was already throbbing from the anticipation.
Sarah knocked at the door to the lab. She always knocked. Even though they were the only two people in the building and he had invited her, she still knocked. Mark was bent over a microscope. He pretended he had not heard her although in fact he had counted the steps of her heavy shoes clopping down the hall from the moment she got off the elevator. She cleared her throat. Mark looked up abruptly and without preamble asked, “What do you make of this?” He moved out of his chair so she could take his place. He braced his hand on the back in a gentlemanly fashion. Sarah frowned at this display but felt compelled to investigate whatever he had placed in the microscope. She sat down and leaned forward to place her eye to the eyepiece.
Mark waited until she instinctively reached for the focus knob, so her concentration was elsewhere. With one swift move he placed his hand on her forehead and the other holding the pin he placed it at the top of her neck just below the skull line and pushed.
Startled, Sarah gasped. Then as she inhaled to begin a scream of panic, her eyes lost focus and drooped. She slowly, calmly, let out her breath. A dreamy smile stretched across her lips. Her eyes closed as back lost its arch and she slouched in the chair. Her head lolled to one side. The pin had vanished under her layers of hair. Her breathing became slow and regular. Mark watched, fascinated, as she occasionally nodded as if agreeing to some unheard command, which was exactly what she was doing. So simple. He had worried about being able to interpret thoughts from one person to another. The mechanics of such a device would have been ungodly complicated. In a flash he realized he didn’t need it. He had one. The brain did all that already, that was what it was for. All he had done was boost the signal to make the connection. The head of the pin contained a small battery and a recording of his thoughts. They were a lengthy series of suggestions. Some of them could be triggered; others were in effect continuously. All of them were very compelling due to their artificial strength. It only took a few seconds for them to enter her mind and take control. Once she got to the last one…
Sarah stood up. Her posture was rigid, eyes fixed straight ahead, while her face remained expressionless.
“Your slave is ready.”
Mark had been very particular about that phrase and what is meant. She didn’t say ‘I am ready.’ She no longer could. In her mind she existed only in reference to him.
“State your name,” he commanded.
“Slave.” He smiled. This was almost too good.
“State your operational modes and times of use.”
“Professional, used only at work and work functions. Social submissive, used when slave is not at work but with other people. Slave, used at all other times.” Mark let out his breath. It had worked! He didn’t know what he wanted to do first. Then he remembered the bet…
“Professional mode.”
She said nothing in acknowledgement, but the void behind her eyes filled in. Her demeanor changed as her posture subtly shifted and her expression took on a hint of bemused superiority.
“So,” she said, “What did you need me to look at?”
“Well actually, do you remember a conversation we had about telepathy?”
Sarah stiffened slightly and only nodded. She shifted a little uneasily. Her just-below-the-knee navy skirt shooshed against her nylons.
“Remember how I said I’d bet my life on it and you accepted? That means your life is on the line too, doesn’t it?”
“What’s your point,” she breathed, sounding annoyed, but also a little nervous. “It’s a moot point.” “It isn’t. I have done it. To you, in fact, so that I can collect my prize.”
She shuddered. “You can’t be serious.”
He boldly walked up to her and cupped her chin in his hand. She tried to resist but her body wouldn’t listen.
“I have made you mine.” He paused and his gaze bored into her eyes.
“Command: remember.”
Her focus turned inwards for a moment as she recalled the past few minutes.
“My god!”
“Yes,” he said, “I suppose I am. You will worship me.”
Why a slave? He asked himself over and over again. He could have made her anything. He could have made her be a cab driver or speak only in French. He could have made her simply desire him. Then it occurred to him. It was because he was good researcher. It wasn’t enough to know that he could change someone or control them; he needed to know the limits.
She was resting now; they both were, really. After she had stripped the both of them, she had knelt reverently at his feet and given him a long, languid suck. Indeed, she worshipped his cock. He had commanded her to masturbate until she orgasmed and she did, several times. He made her yearn for penetration, to beg for it. He took her twice, once front and once from the rear. She screamed with real pleasure the whole time.
“Get dressed, then enter professional mode. Finish what you can in the next half hour, and then go home. This weekend you will purchase a slave outfit and bring it with you when you come to work on Monday.”
Her only acknowledgement was to comply. She left without a word or a glance back.
He ached to call her back, to give her hundreds of more commands. That could wait, though. He walked over to his workstation and opened a drawer. He removed a slender silver lockbox. He laid it gently down on his desk, then entered the combination, opened it and peered inside. He smiled down at the neatly laid out array of jeweled pins.