Deep in the Heart of the Amazon
Chapter 3

Copyright© August 2005 - January 2006

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Bill and Samantha from the block - she ruined his life and business - now he takes revenge in the most personal way possible. - WARNING - This is a humiliation and coercion mind control story - Its also slow. Lots of sex but that comes in later chapters - plot driven

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Mind Control   Drunk/Drugged   DomSub   Harem   Slow  

Late one night about two weeks later, my doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole. It was Sam. I spoke to her through the door.

"Yes, Sam?"

"Please let me in, Sir?"

"No."

"No?"

"No, Sam. I said you could come to my house, I didn't say you could come in. Did I?"

I could hear her sob from the other side of the door. "Please ... please ... Master. Please let me be near you. Please?"

"Sam, there's a shed in the back. A tool shed. There's an old army blanket and a sleeping bag in there. Go sleep in the shed."

A long pause.

"Yes Sir. Um, thank you." The soft padding of feet followed by the chirp of my alarm sensor as the side gate was opened.

The next morning she was on my back porch, lightly knocking. "May I come in now, Sir?"

"Nope." I smiled at her through the sliding glass door. She looked like she'd had a bad night, her hair was rumpled and her clothes were wrinkled. I noticed an overnight bag propped against the shed. I had an idea.

"Sam?" I grinned.

She smiled at me hopefully. "Yes, Sir?"

"That grass looks overgrown, doesn't it?"

She looked around in a bit of confusion. "I suppose so, Mr. Tawse. Why?"

"I think it needs cutting." I waited for it to sink in.

The $350 an hour lesbian lawyer on my back porch in her wrinkled Chanel suit paused and thought. After a moment, she looked up at me hopefully. "Should I get someone to cut it for you?"

"Nope."

She hung her head and looked down at her expensive Italian shoes. "Sir. Sir. Would you like me to cut your grass sir?"

I smiled a winning smile at her. "No need to use the power mower, Sam. Use the push mower. Its safer for you. The push mower is in the garage. You may have to move some junk to get to it."

She seemed defeated and started to walk towards the garage. I stopped her.

"Sam. Stop."

She turned and looked at me.

"You have a lovely body Samantha, and it's a beautiful day out. A beautiful summer day. Isn't it beautiful?"

She looked up, and tried to smile. "Yes, and hot, Sir"

"It is hot. That's true. You'd overheat in that suit, not even to mention that you'd ruin it if you cut grass in it. That will never do."

She nodded, silent.

"I think you should go down to the mall. I'll draw you a map. You should buy a bikini. A tiny bikini. Tiny. Bring it back. Put it on in the backyard and cut my grass. You'll get a good tan. Or at least some sun. Don't forget the sunscreen."

Her eyes were wide, shocked. "Cut your back lawn in a bikini, Sir?"

"Nope."

"No, Sir?"

"No, Sam ... not my back yard, BOTH yards. Front and back. And the driveway strip. And weed the flower beds. Today."

"But ... but Sir!" She looked trapped and a bit panic stricken.

"Well, no. Never mind. Might as well go home, eh?" I looked at her, obviously pretending to be distraught at the notion of her leaving. I turned away from the glass doors and went down to my den. I decided to spend some time surfing the web.

"SIR!!" I heard distantly as I went.

Later, in the afternoon, I went up from the den to the kitchen to get myself another drink. Looking out the window, I saw a lovely sight.

There, on my side yard, struggling to push my hand mower was Samantha Wilcuff. She was glorious. Her pale flesh was covered in a sheen of dirty sweat as she pushed the mower. Her amazing C or maybe even D cup breasts strained against the tight confines of a bright red bikini. Her flat stomach was clenched as she pushed the mower, and her truly fine ass was on prominent display from behind, shown off by the red bikini bottom. And it really was a small bikini. She wore tennis shoes on her feet, work gloves on her hands, and her beautiful blond hair was held up in a braid.

Around her were probably ten teenage boys on their bikes. A couple were trying to help her out, offering to empty the grass bin as it filled. She refused their aid. Across the street and down the court, a couple of fathers and older brothers had decided all at once to watch the afternoon game out doors, or to clean their truck, or to wash out the garage or any other activity that could plausibly keep them occupied with a line of sight to Sam.

I watched for a while. Before too long, a police cruiser rolled up. Two middle aged white cops got out.

I went down to greet them, but not before I ran a thin coat of clear liquid latex over my right palm and the added the tiniest dosage to it.

The cops were engaged in earnest conversation with Sam by the time I arrived. The teen boy squad had not dispersed, but they had backed up a ways and tried to look as inconspicuous as a gang of leering adolescents can.

"Afternoon officers, I'm William Tawse, I own this house. Is there a problem?" I stuck out my hand.

The large of the two looked at me. "You know this woman? She says she is just here to cut your grass. Actually," He took my hand and shook it. I offered it to the other officer. "I'm not sure she's breaking any laws, but..."

The smaller cop took my hand, we shook. He smiled at me. "But she is creating a public nuisance." He looked around at the gawkers.

I nodded. I thought for a moment. I looked over at Sam. She was flushed red with shame and embarrassment, looking down at the ground. She seemed utterly humiliated. How long had gone by?

"There's nothing to be done here. There's no problem here. Some busybody called in, nothing is wrong. She's not a nuisance. I'm harmless. Nothing's wrong."

They looked at each other. One sighed, the other hitched up his belt and looked at the kids. He walked over to them. The one left here with us looked at me and said. "Hell buddy, I don't know what the problem is here. You just go back to your business. I'll handle that neighbor woman for you." He stole a last look at Sam.

I turned to her and smiled. "Well, get back to work, daylight's burning and you'd hate to be out here working in the dark." I walked back inside.

She looked around bewildered by the turn of events and then began to mow the lawn again. I waved a big thumbs up at the kids and went inside to finish that drink.

Summer nights run late. By about nine that evening, dusk was settling in. Sam was down on her hands and knees, her beautiful ass poking out of the shrubs as she tried to weed in the near dark. I noticed that the neighborhood men had gotten a lot of yard work and truck cleaning done that day. I nodded in satisfaction.

I brought her a large pitcher of ice tea and a glass. "Here you go, Sam ... come on out."

She crawled out of the bushes on her hands and knees. She was red from sunburn, there were grass streaks on her face and hands and knees. She looked utterly beautiful to me. I gulped slowly to hide my reaction.

She took the glass with a shaking hand. "Thank you so much, ... um ... Master." She downed it quickly. She sat down on her heels. My eyes traced a line of sweat up her dirty thigh to the filthy bikini.

"You're filthy."

She looked herself over. "Yes, I suppose I am, Sir. I'm sorry. But, I did get all the lawn done and this is the last flower bed. I'm almost done. Please give me fifteen more minutes? I promise I can get it done tonight Sir."

"Nope."

"No, Sir?"

"Nope, you're dirty, it's getting late, and you have work to do in the morning. We need to get you ready for sleep."

She looked up at me with a huge expectant smile.

I got up and she followed me. We walked into the back yard. I led her to the center of my patio. "Strip!"

She looked at me like I was speaking Martian. "SIR??"

"Last chance before I become upset, Sam. Strip. Naked. Now."

She turned her back to me, which was fine with me, because it presented me with that ass. She removed the filthy bikini top and covered her chest with her hands. She then turned sideways and removed her bottoms, letting it fall to the paving of the patio. She covered her pubes with her other hand.

I walked over to the side of the patio and hit the flood lights. The patio was suddenly brilliantly illuminated in a white glare. She stood there, trying to hide her nakedness. I came back with the hose.

"You're filthy. Hands up."

"SIRRR???"

"Hands up, time for your bath." I began to spray her with the cold water from the hose.

"God, STOP STOP THIS!" She yelled.

I lowered the hose. "What, Sam?"

"Please STOP! I just want to be with you, please don't treat me this way. Please, Sir. Please don't be so mean to me." She started to sob softly, her hands covering herself.

At that moment, I almost gave in. I almost let her off. Just then though, the clock chimed nine-fifteen from my study. That clock was a gift from Alan. From my humiliated, embarrassed and now divorced friend Alan. Alan, whose wife now thought he cheated on her with underage whores. Alan, whose life work in a company was gone and would have been forgotten without my intervention.

"No Sam. No." I was angry again, and it made me strong. "Either you, right now, put your hands up and act like you're willing to make me happy, or I send you away. If I send you away this time, I'll never let you back ... and it'll eat at you like acid. It will eat at you." I snarled at her. "Now decide."

"I'm sorry Master." She said, and slowly put her hands up on top of her head. I looked her over, the naked and glorious Samantha. Her breasts were lovely, high and proud on her chest. Her nipples were small and rosy. Her flat tummy led down from a delicate dark happy trail to a neatly trimmed dark curl of pubes shaped in a triangle. Her pussy lips peaked out from her mound, playing hide and go seek in the light of the patio.

 
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