You Will Submit
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2017 by Wyden Long

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Man finally puts the pieces of the puzzle of life together well enough to be able to get all the pussy he wants.

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Teenagers   Mind Control   Romantic   Group Sex   Sex Toys  

Years ago, when I was a young puppy and not yet married, there was a sweet young secretary in my office who loved to wear dresses with deep scoop necks. She was kind enough to bend forward sufficiently whenever I was around, to allow me to enjoy and be impressed by her incredibly long nipples, which always seemed to be aroused. So was I, to tell you the truth.

However, this was long before the sexual revolution and both of us were engaged to others, so there was little expectation of carrying things further than some advanced flirting.

This was at the time that Hugh Hefner had a regular column in his Playboy magazine, called “The Playboy Forum”, as I recall. It seemed to me to reflect a remarkably sensible outlook on life, which did not necessarily fit his image as a complete wastrel and libertine.

One of the concepts he proposed, with tongue somewhat near the cheek, seemed to have some merits. He proposed that people should have three marriages or at least three committed relationships based on age matchups. He suggested that a good arrangement would be for fifteen year olds to marry thirty-ish partners. The fifteen year old boy could have a beautiful, sexy loving partner who was fully experienced in the ways of love and who might have an established career and income.

The prevailing alternative was to deny the sexual needs of fifteen year old boys, who were bursting with hormones and easy prey for any sweet young thing who offered her body in trade for a guarantee of lifetime support. The result was what a thinking person might expect. A pair of inexperienced teenagers with no skills in the marketplace or the bedroom, trying to find their way in the world when neither could lead the other. Divorce, bankruptcy, hardship and a host of other negatives inevitably followed.

Hefner’s solution looked very attractive to me. Pairing hormone laden teenage boys with experienced, still attractive women (they would be MILFs today), gave the kid what he wanted in his wet dreams and gave the more mature woman a sex toy with inexhaustible stamina. Similarly, the hormone laden teenage girl would get a Sugar Daddy, with a store of tricks that would make her swoon and the resources to provide her with the kind of lifestyle that she had dreamed of.

When the teenagers reached thirty, he proposed that they find their own teenager and their now-45 partner could hook up with someone their own age to live out the remainder of their life. Their fantasies of having a sex toy having been satisfied and their careers and financial security more established, they would be much better able to make partnership choices without the brain-addling effect of hormones.

I have clumsily reported Hefner’s vision, but it has been more than fifty years since I read it. Still, the concept has stuck with me and I have tested the theory in my mind many times as I grew older and somewhat more mature. As a theory, I still like it a lot. As a practice, it is unlikely to ever be widely adopted. Pity. It might give me a shot at one of those 60-year old GMILFs I see running around.

Getting back to Peggy and her two inch nipples (which is how I remember them), another thing I picked up from reading Playboy (I did buy it for the pictures, but also read it from cover to cover), was a point made in the forum that those who ask for sex get a lot more sex than those who only wish for sex. The penalty for asking might be unpleasant. The penalty for not asking was doing without.

This also struck me as wonderfully good sense. The next time I was alone in the office with Peggy and she was providing me with glimpses of those wonderful nipples, I put myself up to it.

“Peggy, how would you like to make love with me?” I held my breath for the explosion I feared and the trouble it might cause for me. It would only take one word from her for my career to be in shambles. Why didn’t I think about that before I opened my mouth? Hormones, was the only answer that came to mind.

Peggy drew herself up, as well as closing off the delicious gap between her chest and her dress. “Well! I’m not in the habit of doing such things!”

At least she didn’t blow the rape whistle. I got the feeling that she was more surprised than insulted, so I went ahead on my disastrous course. “I didn’t ask whether you were in the habit of such things. I merely asked if you would like to.”

That stumped her. I may have been the first person to raise the question with her.

“Uh, well, I guess so.”

Success! And I was still alive. Now, what to do with this new knowledge? As I said, we were both engaged and we worked together. It would be damned difficult to do anything concrete with this new knowledge, so I took the only visible alternative. I merely smiled and thanked her, leaving her with a smile on her face for having her ego puffed a bit, and I was smiling for the same reason.

The subject never came up again and there was no awkwardness between us. Life went on as if it had never happened. We both married our intended partners knowing that there was at least one other person in life who might have been interested.

This experience cemented the concept in my mind, but my life was already set in motion, with little chance to color outside the lines. Career, marriage, children, career moves following the job market and I was on my second wife, with teenage boys who would give their left nut to find a willing 30-year old woman who would be willing to help them with their problem.

In fact, one of them came close to adopting Hefner’s plan. He lived for some years with a much older woman, but this was after he had moved out and we weren’t as close after I divorced his mother. He is now married to a woman near his age. Some day we should discuss his opinions of the path he chose.

Bear with me here, I am laying the groundwork for my ultimate plan. I had witnessed the power of asking for what I wanted, way back there, with Peggy and her wonderful nipples. (I can still see them in my mind. So long, so pink, so sweet. I wanted to suck them so badly.)

While driving down the freeway with my second wife, I kept an eye in my rear view mirror for an opening in the traffic that would allow me to safely move into a faster lane. Every time I thought an opening was coming up, someone would fill it. I commented that it seemed as if the world were conspiring to prevent my moving over.

She floored me with a comment that reminded me of what I had witnessed with Peggy, but had never put into practice in any real manner. “Why should you expect anyone to let you in when you have never let them know you want to move?”

Simple, right? I immediately recognized her comment as a metaphor for life. Why the fuck not? I flipped on my blinker, gave the overtaking traffic enough time to avoid me and simply went where I had wanted to go for such a long time.

What a relief! How simple life can be when you are able to see it clearly.

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place a bit later. I have always been interested in psychology. In fact, my mother’s evil stepmother had earned a Master’s degree in Abnormal Psychology. The entire family said it was typecasting.

I had also been interested in paranormal events and since I was living in freeway land at the time, I was able to enroll in a course that was advertised as an “ESP” course. The instructor immediately disavowed that the course was truly about anything that would normally be called ESP and offered to refund any fees paid by those who felt wronged by his actions.

The course changed my life even more than the two mantras previously mentioned. It taught me that the underlying theme of the course was true--that all humans have mental capabilities far beyond what is considered normal, but that we are conditioned by society to suppress these capabilities and to deny their existence. Our instructor taught us methods that could bypass the usual mental obstacles so that we could learn to perform activities we would otherwise believe impossible, by simply using methods that exploited loopholes in our mental defenses.

It was this course, in addition to a powerful book I read at the same time that gave me the incentive and confidence to divorce my wife and be free to pursue my dream of being married to a woman I truly loved.

The final link in the plan fell into place years later. Fundamental truths are so damned obvious after you realize them. Why does it take so long to be able to see them?

I was on a train passing through Belgium and the beautiful young girl sitting beside me was part of a group of apparent students traveling together. When the group got up and headed to the exit, she excused herself and joined them. I was disappointed to see her go. They stood in the vestibule, waiting for the train to arrive at their destination. I don’t have any idea why they had gotten up so early because we were several minutes away.

Just for the hell of it, I began concentrating on my previous seat mate, that I could see through the glass door. As an exercise, I began transmitting a strong message to her. “I WANT YOU TO COME BACK AND SIT WITH ME. DO IT NOW.”

I didn’t really expect anything to come of it, but I did notice some of the other girls looking at her and at me, so I sent it again. “I WANT YOU TO COME BACK AND SIT WITH ME. DO IT NOW.”

Oddly, it felt as if they were all hearing my mental blast and knew it was intended for the girl who had sat with me. I sent, again and again, “I WANT YOU TO COME BACK AND SIT WITH ME. DO IT NOW.”, without truly believing it would cause her to submit. Just the notion that she could pick up my thoughts was exciting, so I continued.

When she pushed through the door and came back to where I was sitting, the hair raised on my arms. She was actually, fucking, doing it. The icing on the cake came when she asked querulously as she brushed past me to sit by the window in her previous seat, “Why do you want me? I’m just a high school girl?”

Well blow me down--or up or just blow me! That left damned little question whether she had received my commands and understood them at a high level. Obviously she was accustomed to leers and impure thoughts from most males she came in contact with, but I doubt that she had responded to any in a way as if the request had been spoken aloud. In fact, I doubted that she would have come with me if I had gone to the door and audibly commanded her to go with me.

Something else was afoot here. “Because you are very beautiful and I enjoy talking with you”, is what I told her and it was true. That seemed to relax her and she settled back for a very nice discussion about her life in Belgium and in high school. I was beginning to realize that the girls had not gathered in the exit vestibule because we were approaching her stop. They had gone down there to discuss my mental messaging, which they must have been picking up on while she was seated with me initially.

Wow! This was a whole new perspective on life for me. I had seen quite a few instances that suggested to me that women could pick up my thoughts, but this was the first time I had seen direct evidence, other than a dirty look or a brief smile...

What had changed? Why was this darling nymphet sitting beside me after having already moved away with her posse? Was it something I did right, that I had never done before? Ah! Perhaps it went back to the lesson taught me on the freeway? What if women had always been picking up on my mental communications, but my thoughts had always been passive, as in, “What an ass!”, or “Wouldn’t I love to stick a dick in that?”, sort of thoughts.

In this case, I had not simply commented, I had ordered her to take some action and she took it. Now I had to work this sub/dom thing through my mind, to know how to proceed.

Before I got very far along this line, the train did reach her station and she asked permission to leave. “May I go now, Sir? My friends are waiting?”

I actually believe that she would have stayed with me and followed my further orders if I had refused. However, I thanked her very kindly for the pleasure of her company and wished her well as she skipped to the exit and out of my life.

Had this actually happened?

The other pieces in the puzzle slowly clicked into place. I had long been aware that a certain proportion of women prefer to have someone to direct their activities so that they are not required to be responsible. I was exposed to this brilliant conclusion in my teens. On a trip home from college, I met a distant cousin who I was assured would make me very happy if I would take her out.

We parked in a lonely place and started making out. I had a tit in my mouth and several fingers in her snatch when she stopped me. “No, no, take me home.”

As dumb as I usually am, my guardian angel must have whispered in my ear and I realized that what she was actually saying was, “Don’t stop, don’t stop. After you knock me up I will have the first college boy in the family as a husband.”

Scared the shit out of me, but I managed to act even dumber than usual and simply put her tit back where it belonged, pulled my fingers out of her very wet pussy, wiped them on her dress and took her home. She never spoke to me again. Whoops! Dodged a bullet there. Thanks GA.

I know this thing is all over the map, but so were my thoughts. I didn’t have any coherent plan. I was simply trying to make sense of things that did not match the template I was given when growing up.

After many more years of stupidly trying to make sense of life, while spending most of my time in a career that required a lot more mental power than I seemed to have when it came to life, I ran across a book on Internet marketing. The message of the book was that successful marketing goes beyond convincing the customer that you have a great product. You must also give him a call to action. You can’t just say, “My product is the greatest.” You must also say, “Buy it!”

Well, duh, That made sense. Now, armed with the accumulated wisdom of many chances at learning something, but forever missing the point in applying the wisdom to my personal life, I set out to put this final? brick in the wall.

There was a mouth-watering barista at the not-S/B coffee shop down the street. Every time I went in there I lusted after her proud, high tits and firm ass that she waved around as visual incense. Many times, I had almost caught myself audibly voicing my thoughts and feelings with regard to this luscious wet dream. Luckily, nothing had made it above a mumble, so far.

Today, I would add the Call to Action. That should be in gold leaf, italic script.

I marched up the counter, looked her in the eye and sent my mental command. “I DEMAND THAT YOU TAKE YOUR BREAK NOW AND TAKE ME TO THE BACK ROOM WHERE YOU WILL ALLOW ME TO FUCK YOUR ASS OFF.” Subtlety is not my middle name. Neither is class. I wasn’t here for style points. I was here to flex my muscles and learn the extent of my abilities when combined with the Call to Action.

“Jeanie, would you come to the counter for a moment, please. I need to take care of something in the back”, she said to the girl who was bussing tables.

“Sure, Kate. Do you need any help with that?” The saucy wench looked me right in the eye and licked her lips.

Hey, WTF? I’m an old man. That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped looking and lusting, but it has certainly caused the girls to stop looking at me that way. Maybe this shit really works?

“When I am finished with Kate, you will come back and clean me up.” Capitals did not seem to be required. As she brushed past me, she whispered in my ear, “Count on it.”

Was it always this easy and I just walked right past all those open doors for so many years? Apparently, so. Kate was holding the door for me, then walked ahead of me to the supervisor’s office as if I were making a standard delivery. There was nothing sexy about her manner or carriage. She was very businesslike about everything, as if her supervisor had merely asked her to verify contents of a delivery or some such.

“We don’t have very long, Master. Will it help you to get started if I suck you first?”

Ooookaaaay. “Yes, that will be a good idea.”

Kate quickly dropped to her knees, unzipped and swallowed me. That is no mean feat. The zipper, yes. The swallowing, no. As I have aged, my length has not grown, but my girth has definitely increased. Kate inhaled that fat boy to the roots and slobbered on my balls. Then she hesitated, backed off and rose to stand beside me.”

“I guess I’m not thinking clearly, Master. Obviously it will help you get off faster if you can see my tits. It would be nice if you played with them, too. My nipples love to be squeezed. When you are fucking me, please be sure to suck them if it pleases you, Master.”

I could get used to this shit in a hurry.

Kate was back on her knees with her blouse and bra pushed up, tits hanging out and my balls on her chin in a flash. I fondled those wonderful rock hard tits that only teenagers seem to have and felt my prong reaching levels of rigidity that I had thought extinct. Apparently, the dysfunction had been due to absence of incentive, rather than failure of equipment.

No sooner had I reached rock hard than Kate was sitting on the edge of the desk, pulling me inside the hottest pussy I could remember since taking my cousin home. She had me so tuned up that by the time I got her left nipple in my mouth and was stretching the right one as far as possible, she was cumming and so was I.

As she said, we didn’t have much time. My prong was still quivering with afterglow and dripping more leftovers than it had shot in a long time when she was blouse and bra down, panties up and out the door. Her quiet, “Thank you, Master”, still rang in my ears when Jeannie came running in.

She was on her knees in a flash, just like Kate had done. Her mouth was a hard vacuum for my tortured balls, but she showed no mercy. “Wow! For an old dude, you sure pack a punch, Master. You must have filled Jeannie full. She was walking bowlegged when she went back up front.”

I was barely aware of her prattle, but noticed that my cock was not receding to the extreme rest state in which I usually carried it around these days. Was the incentive of this young, willing and eager couple reawakening my old todger that had never seen such attention?

“Master, forgive me, but you appear to have something left. Would it be all right for me to bend over here and push back on your tree stump? I’ve never had one that rugged before. I will stop and go back up front if you wish, Master.”

I didn’t really know what to think about all of this “Master” stuff, but who was I to deny the wishes of this damsel in distress? No maiden, certainly, but at the same time, certainly a damsel.

“Of course, my dear. Just pop those tits out where I can get to them, bend over and grab your ankles. You’re going to town with Grandpa.”

She did and we did. Took a lot out of me, but I’m a guy who loves to give until it hurts. It was hurting like hell at the moment, with certain ducts and internal pathways having been subjected to stresses long forgotten, but who’s complaining?

I bade a fond adieu to my recently acquired slaves and returned home after stopping to stock up on oysters and such. There was a neighbor girl who had caught my eye many times and I was looking forward to testing my new abilities.

As an afterthought, I bought a case of blue pills, just in case.

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