Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Mind Control, Fiction, MaleDom, Rough, Snuff, Black Female, White Male, White Female, Oriental Male, .
Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Lewis Cooke has stolen a power similar to Matthew Reid's. He's spent weeks studying and learning his limits, and now that Matthew has settled his affairs in Ottawa, Lewis decides to act.
Gillian LeBrun - Friday, July 10th, 2015
“Ida?” That heartless bitch was hovering over Ida. I had watched from the elevator doors. All I had to do was walk out and take out a taxi. “Jesus, girl, get ahold of yourself.”
“Mais non,” There was no going home for me. I smiled and hurried over to the desk. She was slow to respond, “Ida, cherie, avec moi, s’il te plait.”
“Go home, Gigi!” I glared at the despondent dirtbag. No, I wouldn’t let ma fille leave like this.
“You are a mess,” I had to use both hands to witness Ida’s wet eyes. Her mascara threatened a flood.
“I’ll be fine,” She hiccoughed. I had to drag her to the back room. I sighed. It was a quarter after eleven. I’d be here till three. I started to unbutton my shirt.
“God, here!” Ida panicked; I smiled, “I don’t like girls. I know I did some shit this week but--”
“Tais-toi, pervert,” I slapped a hand over her mouth. I wasn’t a lesbian either, but I knew how to have fun. She stared at my chest and blushed like a teenager. I had to shake her again, “Take my shirt and give me yours. I’ll finish the rest of your shift.”
“I’m sorry,” The first strike of her crying hit her. Her shirt was a size large on me but that was because she was taller.
“No, you’re heartbroken,” I stroked her hair, “Cherchez votre amies. You’ll need ice cream and cheesy movies.”
“I honestly prefer pot and mini-golf,” She snuffled.
“That is because you are l’idiote.” I finally got a smile from her with a little kiss. She let me chase her out of the hotel.
“What? God, I can’t believe you put up with the tramp,” I was welcomed back to the front desk.
“Ida is a gentille fille,” I replied, “She’ll be OK.”
Our shift drifted on for the next fifteen minutes. I was immediately abandoned for a cigarette. Perfect, I had to plaster on my my practiced smile as le malotru came out of the elevator. He made my skin crawl. His attache looked beaten. I would be glad to go home to Pierre.
“Bonjour, M. Cooke,” I smiled, “How can I help you?”
“Oh, I was expecting that younger one,” He smirked.
“Nevermind,” He laughed, “My client left?”
“Qui--Who do you mean?”
“Oh!” I smiled truly, “Yes he checked out a few moments ago.”
“Excellent,” He slipped his keycard from his pocket, “I’ll be on my way as well.”
“Merci,” I accepted the card.
“Please print out the receipt,” He explained as he tapped into his iPhone.
“Juste un instant,” I smiled, “Is your credit card information correct?”
He glanced at the screen and nodded. His driver came in the front door holding a small black bag. He had similar tastes to Matthew. I suspected that was purpose.
“Mr Cooke?” She asked with discomfort. I understood.
“We’ll be leaving today, Florence,” He explained.
“Do you have everything you need?”
“It’s all here.”
“M. Cooke, votre receipt.” I slipped the paper towards him across the counter. He smiled and grabbed my wrist above where I had worn my bracelet. I should have kept it, but Matthew had asked for it back. Ida was still wearing hers. That wasn’t important, I forced my brain through the surprise, “Monsieur? S’il te plait? Let go. Now.”
I kept my voice clear without screaming but he gripped tighter. His girl walked around the counter to me.
“You can’t come back here,” I shrank back from the blonde. She took a leather strip out of her bag. I almost screamed but M. Cooke dragged me across the counter and covered my mouth. There were cameras! The woman choked me with the leather cord. It was a dog’s collar. I struggled, kicked back but--
“Let’s go Florence. I apologize Ms LeBrun,” And I was let go. I reached for the collar and he stopped a few steps away, “That was out of line. Come with me to the car so I can apologize.”
I was a smarter woman than this. I shouldn’t have gone but I was around the counter a moment a later. Florence held the door for us. He followed me into the car.
Florence Rutger - July 10th, 2015
We had been driving for nearly eight hours. My new Master and his first catch were having their fifth tryst on the back bench. She was learning to be a screamer. I felt the goosebumps on my arms as we headed down the TransCanada. I had never been this far East. M. Fournier had been adamant about stepping on other toes. We didn’t go further West than Edmonton or further South than Detroit.
“Fucking hell!” Growled Master. I swallowed air as he dropped Gigi to his left. She was smart enough not to cry until he was napping. Not smart enough to crawl into his lap and clean his cock.
“Just let me go! Let me go home!” He pushed her face back down to his cock.
“You’re dangerous,” He explained, “Florence, what’s wrong with her?”
“Is she yours?” I caught his eyes in the rearview. A mistake, I looked back to the tractor trailer ahead of me.
“Are you mine?” He pulled Gigi up.
“I’ll never be yours!” She growled.
“Then why’d you come to the car?” He sounded so smug. But she was just addled from her owner’s disappearance. She wasn’t his. She was the others. This is why we didn’t step on each other’s toes. It was easier for M. Fournier. His neighbors hardly shared his proclivities. Master wanted to win. To win you need a game, you need an opponent. He had defined his.
“Je suis desole! I’m sorry!” Gigi broke crying and collapsing in the space behind my chair and the back bench.
“Florence!” I checked my mirrors and checked my speed. I shivered and shuddered. He growled, “Fix her.”
“I don’t think I can. We should let her go.”
“How would that help?” He grumbled, “Fine, pull in somewhere I’m starving.”
“You’ll let me go home.”
“I’ll give you back to Reid,” He decided. The sobbing breaths evened out.
“He left me,” She rose up and took her seat on top of her clothes.
“And I’ve corrected that,” Lewis announced, “Get through tonight and you’ll be with him tomorrow.”
“What now Frog?”
“She’s asking you to promise.”
“Yes, I promise,” He stroked her hair, “If you don’t give me any trouble.”
“OK, whatever you need tonight. Tomorrow we meet Matthew.” She edified in moments. She must have had ice in her veins. Eight hours to break and moments to pull herself together. She was why master was so terrible.
“Clean yourself up. I expect a civil dinner.”
“Oui, I’ll need a ladies room.”
“Of course, Florence will keep an eye on you.”
“I will.” I agreed so that Gigi would be certain I couldn’t be bent.
“Can I call mon mari?”
“No.” I answered making the mistake to meet Cooke’s eyes again.
April Garrett - July 11th, 2015
The three who walked in under the bell at the door weren’t our normal patrons. We got a lot of truckers. A lot of locals. An a tourist family now and again. The women cut straight to the washroom. I figured it was an in and out and maybe a cup of coffee for the man.
“Can I sit wherever?” He asked despite claiming the booth near the door.
“Sure can,” I smiled and slipped three menus under my arm and took the pot over to him, “Coffee?”
“I like it black, darling,” Better than most deliveries of that flirt, I had to admit. Still, I heard that twice a shift when it was dead in here.
“And for the women?”
“Just one more,” He flipped over the cup across from him, “And what do you recommend for energy tonight?”
“Ha!” I laughed. I wondered which woman was going to get it. The brunette looked more his speed than the centerfold blonde, “You want the venison stew with extra dumplings.”
“You’re a good woman,” He grinned putting his coffee back down.
“One of the best,” I smiled. His suit looked expensive but well worn and that he had ironed it with an octopus. Still, I wagered I was going to get a great tip.
“Get started on mine, darling. They’ll make their decisions when they sort themselves out,” He grinned.
“And keep the coffee coming.” I flashed a smile over my shoulder and rang in his order. Food was up just before his girls came out of the washroom.
“Hello ladies,” I welcomed them to the table, “Take a few minutes with the menus I’ll be around when you’re ready.”
The brunette was let inside the booth and the man slipped back in. The blonde handed a strip of leather to the man. I let it slide and turned to leave.
“La soupe, s’il vous plait?” I turned, seemed the brunette was asking the man as much as me. She wasn’t wearing the choker like the blonde but it seemed they had some sort of hierarchy there.
“C’est creme de champignons? Ca va?”
“D’accord,” She smiled wanly. The blonde was still flipping through our menu. He was watching me.
“I’ll be right back,” I smiled for, walked away, tapped in, spooned up, and came back.
“De rien,” I smiled.
“You speak lovely French,” He grinned.
“Maybe to your ears, I bet she’s hearing nails on a chalkboard.”
“Non, it’s very well done.” She slurped her spoonful in. She was much older than me. Maybe 40, maybe a little less. The blonde was closer to my age. Maybe their daughter? But probably not. I’d bet one of these two was a stepparent. Probably the Quebecoise.
“Merci beaucoup,” I gave a little curtsy in my uniform dress.
“We’ve got a fair bit of driving left. Do you know a motel we could get a quick nap at?”
“The Spring Wedding Inn is just off the next exit. It’s clean, inexpensive.”
“Thank you kindly,” He smiled and looked down to my nametag, “April.”
“No worries, I’m just a whistle away,” I grinned and they ignored me whispering to themselves. I don’t eavesdrop, I used to, too many conversations about hockey or the election glazed my eyes over. I didn’t think to listen in until I was called for a refill.
“I need to know it will work, Florence.”
“So long as they’re not someone else’s it’ll work fine.”
“It better, I only have so many tags,” He growled.
“Qu’est-ce que c’est tags?” whispered The brunette.
“Like Reid’s bracelets,” He explained and smiled at me as I pulled away the coffee. I guess I took a moment long to leave.
“You all ready there?” I asked the blonde, Florence, to cover. Who doesn’t go by Flo? I guess someone with a bucketful of nieces and nephews maybe.
“Scrambled eggs and a garden salad?” Again she posited to the man in the group. He nodded imperceptibly. I could never be in a relationship like that, but if that’s their thing, that’s their thing.
“Sure thing,” I grinned, “French dressing or Italian?”
“None, please,” She said. And I left before I got to hear more about Tags or Reid. Shame. I rolled their conversation over in my mind a few times but couldn’t quite parse it. Tags, like bracelets? That made no sense. I had her plate a few minutes later. She thanked me as I put it down.
“Didn’t like it, eh?” I asked of the man’s big empty plate.
“I think I might send it back,” He smiled as I picked up the dish, “Darling, can I ask you one more favor?”
“You can ask me anything, sugar,” The pet name felt forced but he smiled for it. Maybe even a 20% smile.
“Great!” I did not expect him to stand up, “Turn around.”
“Um, sure,” I rolled my eyes as I spun around. The diner was empty, except for the cook and there was no eyes on the front. I was surprised, angered a little, when I saw the empty table towards the back. A dine and dasher? Fuck. It was only a milkshake and a plate of fries but I didn’t want to have to--
“What the fuck?” I flinched as he grabbed my neck from behind.
“Quiet down!” He seethed pulling something tight til it choked. I scratched his fingers and he growled in my hair, “Hands at your sides!”
I was stopped then, wheezing as he loosened a noose on my neck. I took in a deep gulping breath and shivered. “Come back around, darling.”
“See, it works fine,”
“Mon Dieu!” The brunette swore, “And Matthew did this to me? To Ida?”
“Yes, Gigi,” The man cackled.
“Did what to you? Choked you?” I didn’t dare lift my arms. I didn’t know why.
“No, enslaved her,” I hardly understood his words. My eyes just went wide. Slave? What the holy hell? I was about to hiss and spit and kick and cuss but something in his eyes told me to shut up. Worse I listened.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” He explained to me, “You ain’t married?”
“Easier, good. You 18?”
“24.” I answered.
“That works. Alright, let’s pay our bills, you got a car?”
“Yeah, can’t live out here without one,” I grumbled.
“We’ll follow you to the Spring Wedding Inn.”
“I still got five hours of shift left,” I replied somehow knowing I didn’t.
“You’ll quit,” He waved that off, “Let’s go.”
I took a deep breath. The blonde was disappointed that she’d only half eaten her meal but she abandoned it. I grabbed the dishes, carried them back to the busing station. Sighed, and headed into the back.
“I’m heading out,”
“Out, out where?” The cook looked up at me.
“I don’t know, leaving.”
“What the fuck?”
“Restaurant’s empty,” I shrugged, “It’ll be an easy night.”
“Jesus, girl! Finish your Goddamned shift!”
“Can’t. Sorry,” And I really was. He didn’t believe me. I untied my apron and left it on the counter. He shouted something after me. No one was going to hire a fuck up like me. That was probably true. I left the register keys under it and was out the door. My car was parked around the left side. The three of them had clambered into their beautiful black Mercedes. That was going to stick out in town.
The cook stepped out the front door and watched me drive away. Poor guy. I kept their car in my mirror and drove the three minutes to the Inn. I waited in the parking lot as they climbed out of the car. The blonde strode off to the office. The other two came over to me and knocked on my window.
“Get out.” I did.
“You ever fuck your customer?”
“A couple times.”
“I could use a shower,” I said trying to be flippant but hurried further when I saw he had no patience for that, “No drugs, no STDs.”
“Good.” The night manager came out with the blonde and eyed me crookedly. I managed not to blush but I quickly looked away.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“To you,” He grinned, “Master.”
“Do I have to call you Master?” The French girl asked.
“Yeah, for tonight. Until Halifax.”
“Fine, Master,” She grumbled.
Master started walking after the manager and Florence. I fell into step with Frenchie behind him. We were let to room 8, the last room on the first level.
“Fresh towels in the bathroom. There’s a continental breakfast in the morning. Checkout by 11. You got no close neighbors, so we shouldn’t have to hear you.”
“Thank you, darling,” He said striding past the Florence and the manager. Darling wasn’t some targeting code. At least I hoped not, the judgmental bat was pushing 65. With a final sneer, she walked away and we closed the door behind us.
“Why am I here?” I begged. I knew the immediate but the slavery was too much.
“Cause of all that energy I ordered,” Master smirked, “April, Florence, strip Gigi and throw her on the bed.”
“M. Cooke!” The French girl, Gigi shrieked as I stepped to her. The blonde wasted no compunction. She ripped open the buttons on the edge of Gigi’s skirt and tossed it away. I was gentler, which was to be a mistake, as I lifted the polo shirt off of Gigi’s torso.
“It’s Master, slave,” He watched lazily unbelting his pants, “April, if she speaks up again, slap her.”
“Yes Master,” I grumbled. Gigi was wisely silent as I reached for her bra clasp.
“She’s not a fragile thing, April,” Master taunted, “Open her like a present on Christmas.”
She howled as I tore away her bra. Her underwire must’ve twisted against her. She scrambled to get out of the arm holes. She had a tear in either eye and a curse on her lips.
I had never heard a syllable ended with such a brutal slap before. I was so sorry. My hand stung. Gigi slipped down to her knees. Her cheek was dark red. I was so sorry.
“Wow, I’m getting the appeal of this,” Master laughed. Florence tossed Gigi’s panties away as I lifted her up to her feet. We threw her face first onto the bed by the door. She slowly rolled over.
“To see Matthew tomorrow. I’ll be good,”
“Don’t hit her again,” Master stopped me magnanimously. He dropped his shirt to the floor and was standing in naked glory. He had a dark red erection for his otherwise pale complexion. He was in good shape, not quite a six pack, but narrow and strong. He was overdue a shave by a day a half and his smile was two parts wolf and one part shark. His eyes lit up like electric chairs. I was afraid.
“Thank you, Master,” Gigi murmured, “There is no need to be rough.”
“No need at all,” He agreed, “April, Florence, hold her legs open.”
A desire for roughness was answered. Gigi kept her eyes on Master. She was a beautiful woman. Her brown hair splayed out over the garish bedspread. She was tan, mostly but for the relief of a small bikini. Smallish breasts with wide copper nipples. Her eyes glared in furious darkness. Her lips peeled apart, both sets, one in grimace, others underprepared. Gleefully, Lewis climbed up on top of her.
There was a shriek, echoing past our ears and yet almost silent.
“You’ll be the last woman I can do this too,” He announced to Gigi.
“I’m sure both of your whores can accommodate you.” She forced the English out. There was something more angry in her perfected grammar. I was one of the whores. Butterflies tumbled and battled in my stomach. Whore. Slave. Accomplice. It grew worse and worse.
“But you, you don’t accomodate,” He laughed, “Accommodation isn’t always what a man wants.”
“You’re no man,” She huffed.
“More than your husband,” He laughed and I saw the ring on her finger for the eleventh time. I finally noticed that Master’s finger was bare. If I had know he was single, would I have been more on guard? No, I turned my back on him even though I was weirded out. I touched my collar.
“No more than Matthew,” Gigi never finished that name. Master’s hands squeezed the breath out of her neck. He fucked her hard for a few seconds but let her go as her color turned swiftly red. The fucking was heavy brutal as Gigi grabbed at Master’s arms. The nails on her left hand drew blood. I wasn’t calling the police.
“Let go of my arms,” He demanded and I would have in that instant but wailing Gigi doubled down reaching higher, encircling his biceps.
“Graagh!” The slap of flesh was hard and melodic. I had never been fucked like this. I mean as hard. I had had my face slammed into a pillow. I had ached for days after. But somehow this was more fierce.
“Reid is a child,” Master educated Gigi, “A blithering idiot who can’t think past his dick. I could conquer the Goddamned world and left to his devices, with this power of a God, he’ll never crawl out of his starvation wages.”
“Matthew has dreams,” Gigi dug in her fingers and stared right into Master’s face, “You have sickness.”
“I have realities,” He laughed, “You have a cunt.”
There was going to be more. Gigi’s sanity demanded her resistance. I saw something burning her eyes but her mouth was empty. Not word, not a sound, not a breath.
“And you just got tighter!” Master laughed squeezing her throat again. She kicked me. Florence held her leg tightly. I scrambled back to my feet and grabbed her as she thrashed. The fucking hardened, darkened. Master was triumphant. Gigi was black purple.
“Let her go,” I pleaded quietly as her bulging eyes rolled up as her kicking weakened.
“Master?” Florence asked as the leg in her hands limpened.
“She needs to breathe!”
“Fuck,” he pulled his hands away but kept at her. He was so near the edge he hardly missed the beat. His cum face was scarily cute. A weird little smile with tightly closed eyes. I scurried forward and felt her mouth. Nothing was coming out.
“She needs CPR!” I begged.
“Florence, you do it,” He lazily left the bed. The blonde rushed forward and started compressions immediately.
“Quietly,” He said to the room, just in time to stop me from screaming. He took me by the arm and dragged me to the shower. I stripped, crying, terrified.
“That’s not going to be something I do often,” He explained like he had left dirty dishes in the sink.
“Um,” I couldn’t reply.
“Now wash my back,” He told me, “You’re you did need a shower.”
I stepped under the water and cried quietly as I catered to him. I hated. Not myself. Not him. Not circumstances. I was way too hard in shock to have concepts like persons or anything in my head. I just hated. He turned on me, happily weighing and measuring my breasts and ass. He was impressed. I tried to find the flattery in that.
“She’s dead, Master,” Florence stepped into the room and I wanted to hide myself in Master’s arms away from being seen naked but wanted more to run to Florence to get away from this.
“How full is your tank?” I shivered and jumped when Master spoke. I prayed that the shower hid that I had pissed myself.
“Yeah, mostly.” I answered. My voice steady only due to shock.
“Your Tercel is hideous. But we can’t contaminate two vehicles so I suppose that we’ll drive that the rest of the way.” He announced, “Florence, remove Gigi. No one ever finds her. Can you do that?”
“Yes, it’s happened before.” She was terrifyingly blase.
“Very well,” He picked up the shampoo, “April help load Gigi into the trunk. Leave nothing but be quick about it. We’ll spend the night in the second bed. I’ll need to be at my best in the morning. I have an overdue appointment with my lawyer.”