Slave Labor

by

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mind Control, Heterosexual, Fiction, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Fisting, Masturbation, .

Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: Making your friends your slave.

It started in high school. She, let’s call her “June,” was between boyfriends at the time. We were seventeen, each of us a bundle of hormones looking for a place to explode, and taking a break from studying when she noticed one of the books on my older brother’s shelf.

“Hypnosis for Morons?” she asked. “Why should a moron be trusted with hypnosis?”

“Well, when he comes back from college, I’ll ask him.” I responded, which made her laugh. She pulled the book down and brought it to the table. “Here, try me.” she dared.

“What, now?” I asked.

“I wanna see if it really works.” she said. I opened the book and started reading. “I’m waitiiiing.” she sang teasingly.

“Sorry, I flunked out of that speed-reading class.” I replied. I closed the book. “Gimme ‘til Friday, OK? If I know Mr. Butler, he’ll give us one of those weekend take-home tests, so you’ll have an excuse to come over.”

“Then what?”

“Then, Ms. Smarty-Pants, you’ll have your dare.” I said.

“You’re on!” she said.

I studied the book hard, and when Friday came, June was barely inside the door before I had her slipping deep into trance. I admit I cheated a little, practicing on my family during the week and using said practice to get my younger sister to spend the weekend with a friend of hers, and my parents to spend it at the lake house. This left me alone with June, free to let my hypnotic explorations run amok (insert maniacal laughter here). That first weekend, I completely forgot to make her forget what we’d done. She remembered me tricking her into thinking she was at home alone in her own bathroom, getting ready for a shower. She remembered thinking she still had her clothes on. She remembered role-playing as a cat-girl in heat, a naughty nurse, a saucy French maid, and even a mindless sex robot. She remembered me enhancing the sensitivity of her erogenous zones to make up for my lack of experience.

And she loved every minute of it.

We ‘hooked up’ officially after that. She encouraged me to try new things, like a pusher trying to get someone to move on to some of the harder drugs. I crafted elaborate, romantic fantasies for her, found new games to play, new tricks to pull, how to make her forget things temporarily, and so on, and most of it I restored to her, eventually. I felt a little guilty about never letting her remember role-playing as an adoring love-slave without a past, memories or even a name, just utter and complete obedience, devotion and love for whoever said “Cider Apple” (the result of folding a piece of stationary into a paper airplane and reading the address letterhead at the top). I admit, I was afraid of what she might do if she knew about that scenario. Then her father got a new job in another state, and after that, there simply was no time. She couldn’t get two seconds to catch her breath as her family hurriedly prepared to move, and I could hardly tell her I’d been turning her into an amnesiac love-slave while her family was around, to say nothing of putting her under to remove her triggers. She couldn’t even give me her new address or telephone number because they hadn’t even found out where they were going to live. I knew she had my number. She could call whenever she wanted. I even gave her a quarter for a pay phone as she gave me a brain-melting kiss goodbye while half-hanging out of the back window of her parents’ station wagon as her father started the engine.

Fast-forward ten years. I hadn’t seen or heard from June since that day. I’d had a few girlfriends, most of whom were subjects at some of the frat parties where I “did my hypno-thing” as they termed it. Coincidentally, they seemed to be the ones I got to have orgasms when a certain trigger-word was used. Imagine that. My major, however, wasn’t psychology. It was computer science. After I got my degree, I started a small computer-repair business with three friends of mine from the college. I know you’re not really supposed to do it like that, but we pooled the leftovers from our Pell grants to start the business, and gave it back once we made it back--which was easy enough, since our only competition was the local ISP, which had been bought out by the same corporation that had bought out the phone company. One of us (not me, unfortunately) got the bright idea to teach computer repair courses as a kind of apprenticeship to get some extra help around the shop since we were doing so much business. That quickly evolved into the computer repair school next door, run by two of the other partners, who also taught alongside our first graduates.

Keeping up with the latest stuff involved going to conventions and expos and so on. It was my turn this time, so I got into the company car (a third-hand hunter-green ‘98 Pontiac Sunfire with our business name stenciled on the doors) and drove to Dallas, where the event was being held. It was a weekend affair, and by Sunday afternoon, I had two bags full of computer-related swag, and was working on the third.

“John?” someone asked. (Not my real name, by the way.) I turned around to find June standing there, all smiles. The years had been kind to her, filling out her girlish frame with womanly curves.

“June?” I asked. “Wow, you look awesome!” Indeed she did, the cut of her tailored business suit taking advantage of her assets. She leaned close and kissed me as if it had been ten minutes, not ten years.

“You’re not looking so bad yourself.” she said. “What are you up to these days?”

“Running a computer repair shop with some buddies from college. You?”

“Persuading small companies that being eaten by a mega-corporation is actually a good thing.” she said with distaste. “Lucky for you, I don’t think they’re interested in gobbling up a PC repair place. But at least you own your own business.”

“Technically, I’m a one-quarter partner in the business.” I corrected. “So how’s your job treating you?”

“Like an ordinary kid in a house full of honor-students.” she admitted. “Yours?”

“It has its ups and downs.” I said. “So, are you here looking for more sacrificial victims to the Corporate God?” She laughed.

“Not really, the boss has been on me to put pressure on one who’s resisting.”

“You don’t like it.”

“Does it show?” she asked wryly, and then decided to change the subject. “How about we meet up later?”

“Anxious to pick up where we left off?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m much better now.” she responded with a smile. “I have a hunch it’d help me take my mind off of things.”

“Hmm, it just might.” I replied, with a grin.

“Looking forward to it.” she said, kissing me on the lips. “Where should we meet?”

“How about 8pm in the lobby?” I asked. “Provided I haven’t spent my dinner money on something shiny by then.” She laughed again, and our date was set. Seeing her again brought back a flood of memories and feelings I’d thought long gone. Could I possibly have asked for a better opportunity to get my one major regret off my chest? I couldn’t wait until eight.

I changed into some nice clothes around seven-thirty and rode the elevator down to the lobby. She was already waiting.

“You don’t mind starting the party a little early, do you?” she asked. “Sorry, I couldn’t sit still and wait.”

“No problem.” I replied, offering her my arm. She was wearing the obligatory Little Black Dress, black fuck-me pumps and take-my-cherry red lipstick. “If you dressed like that for work, small businesses would be lining up for mergers around the block.”

“Do you still practice hypnosis?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m much better now.” I replied with a wink. I seated her in the Sun fire, walked around to the driver’s side door, and got in. Before I even started the car, I had her under and was deepening the trance. She went deep quickly, even after all this time. I told her to open her eyes and behave as if she were awake, but remain deep in trance and be at ease obeying all my suggestions.

“Well, this is interesting.” she said with a smile. I smiled back and pulled into a restaurant with a $10 buffet. I know, not exactly haute cuisine, but most of my money was invested in the business. Besides, I wasn’t much for small portions and big price tags. On the way in, I suggested that she would become more and more aroused as the meal progressed, and when she finished her dessert, she would have a strong orgasm. I also suggested that she forget I had suggested it until after it happened.

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