The Chauffeur

by Mister Arioch

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Mind Control, Hypnosis, Heterosexual, Interracial, Black Male, White Female, Masturbation, Pregnancy, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, .

Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: When Courtney was assigned to drive Mr. Maybourne to Club Frantique, she didn't realize they'd be making a slight detour first.

"Courtney?" I said to the limo driver. "Are you sure you know the right way to Club Frantique?" I drummed my fingers impatiently – perhaps a bit too impatiently – on the armrest of the limo. "I think we were supposed to make a left back there, maybe two blocks ago or so."

"We were?" Courtney glanced back in my direction, trying to look past me and through the rear windshield of the car ... the one made out of dark tinted glass, the one she especially couldn't see through at night. "Oops. Sorry, Mr. Maybourne ... my bad?" She gave me an apologetic smile and a shrug, and then turned her attention back to the road – where it should've been in the first place – gazing in confusion at the passing street signs while we rolled through the city.

I didn't mind. To be honest, over the past couple of weeks, I'd come to expect it. My driver Courtney was a sweet sexy thing, all of eighteen years old, new to the world of driving limousines ... and probably cars in general, for that matter. I can't tell you how many traffic lights we ran by accident when she was behind the wheel, or how many curbs we ran over, or how many other minor disasters happened while she was driving.

Courtney had the face of an angel and a slim, dynamite body that was just begging for sin. Her curly chestnut hair was cut in this short, cute little piecey bob cut, which was mostly hidden under her black leather chauffeur's cap while she drove. But trust me, it was still damn sexy. Her breasts were kind of on the small side, like ripe, juicy peaches. But they were still perky and firm, and when they softly bounced around under that black driving jacket and white blouse of hers, they looked all sorts of perfectly luscious. Just looking at Courtney was easy on the eyes. She was such a petite knockout, with that pale, delicate, porcelain skin of hers, and with just enough curves in all the right places on her lithe, lean body ... so the fact that she wasn't all that great of a driver?

Not all that big of a deal. Not in my book, anyway.

Lounging back in my seat, I pressed a button, and the window next to me slid wide open. The bright, energetic lights of the city spilled in, as did a blast of the cool night air. It was an absolutely beautiful night, the kind that just made you glad to be alive. We rolled to a stop at a red light, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and savoring the majesty of the moment.

When I opened my eyes ... well, it turned out that the night had gotten even more beautiful. I looked to my left and saw that a cherry-red convertible Lamborghini had pulled up next to us. A stunning, statuesque blonde goddess sat behind the wheel of the Lamborghini, dressed to kill in a slinky black cocktail dress. She wore cherry-red lipstick that matched her ride perfectly ... and when she turned to check me out, she gave me an admiring stare, looking me slowly up and down. With a smile, she gave me a casual, flirty wink, and then blew me a kiss with those ravishing red lips of hers.

I winked right back at her. Drop-dead gorgeous woman, checking me out ... shit, what wouldn't there be to like about that? After all, the woman was getting herself an eyeful of one hell of a handsome, athletic black gentleman ... complete with a fresh fade, high and tight, a devilishly debonair goatee, and a dazzlingly white smile. Oh, and I did I mention the gentleman – yes, that'd be me – was wearing nothing less than a fourteen thousand dollar custom suit – charcoal gray and perfectly tailored, with diamond cufflinks and a matching tie pin? And he was riding in style, in one of the finest stretch limousines that money could buy?

Apparently, though, whatever the ravishing blonde in the Lamborghini saw – well, she was only window shopping, I guess. With a saucy grin, the woman licked her lips suggestively at me ... and then, the light turned green, and with a squeal of burning rubber, she shot off into the night, disappearing from sight before I could even blink my eyes.

Ah, well.

Some dreams just weren't meant to come true. Which was probably a good thing.

Other dreams, though ... oh boy, did they come true.

That, I knew for sure.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Courtney exclaimed happily. I thought I heard a gleeful hint of triumph in her voice. "I think I know where I am ... yeah! Oh, I am so good! Club Frantique should just be just a few blocks away!"

"Really?" I asked her. "Are you sure?"

I snapped my fingers.

"Well ... um, I think so, Mr. Maybourne," Courtney said, a bit more doubtful. "I mean, I'm pretty sure, anyway ... if I can just turn around up here, then make a left back onto Central Avenue ... it should be pretty close ... right?" She glanced back at me again, biting her lip in sudden uncertainty.

"We're lost," I repeated, as I stared hard into those deep, beautiful blue eyes of hers. "Aren't we, Courtney?" Although I meant that more as a statement, rather than a question.

Then I snapped my fingers. Twice.

A puzzled, dazed expression crossed Courtney's cute face. She frowned for a moment ... then shook her head vigorously as she completely agreed with me. "Oh, absolutely," she said. "Totally. Completely lost, um ... not sure where this Frantique place is. No clue. Sorry."

I let out a weary sigh. "Oh, that's very disappointing," I said to Courtney. "I guess we won't make it in time. Again. I guess we've got no choice but to take the car back to the garage. That, and I suppose I've got to go over some city maps with you again. Maybe one of these nights, you'll pay attention and we won't get lost..."

"Again with the maps?" Courtney asked. I couldn't tell from her tone whether she was disappointed or excited, or maybe a bit of both. It didn't really matter. I snapped my fingers, and Courtney turned her full attention back to the streets of the city, suddenly driving with great care and precision.

I lounged back in my seat, smiling as we rolled on by the bright neon sign for Club Frantique, heading instead for the outskirts of the city, Courtney wheeling expertly through the snarls of traffic. She could drive like a pro when she put her mind to it ... or, to be more precise, when I put her mind to it. But that usually wasn't much fun. Much more entertaining to watch her struggle a little behind the wheel. Okay, it was a little more dangerous that way too ... but hey, what can I say? I liked living a little dangerously.

We left the busy downtown streets of the city, heading instead down by the docks, down where things were much quieter. I checked my Rolex. Damn. Just a bit past eleven ... later than I'd expected, and a bit later than I wanted. Some of the stuff I'd had in mind for the evening's festivities would have to wait for another time. I knew I'd have to cut to the chase and get to the meat of things, so to speak. A snap of the fingers, after all, only went so far.

Courtney drove the limo down a dead end street. All the buildings were closed, save for a garage at the end of the block with its lights still on. As we made our way to the end of the block, Courtney flashed the highbeams of the limo twice right at the garage ... and one of its doors slowly creaked open. Courtney beeped the horn twice, and as the door finished opening, she smoothly drove us right on inside.

Though it was late, there were nearly a dozen guys or so stilling milling about inside the garage. Some of them were still wearing their grease-stained work overalls, while others had changed into more casual clothes ... none of them looked like they were working, though. Some were watching a ball game on a crappy old television, others were playing cards, and a few were munching on burgers from the fast food place a few blocks away. All of them, though, completely stopped what they were doing when the limo rolled to a stop in one of the garage bays, putting away the cards and food as they saw us arrive. And when I got out of the limo, a few of them began to clap and cheer, their applause echoing throughout the otherwise quiet garage.

"Thought you were never gonna get here," an older guy called to me with a laugh. He stubbed out a cigarette in an empty soda can, and wisps of smoke twirled up to the ceiling. "Starting to think we should've gone to a strip club instead!"

"Oh, c'mon," I replied. "You know good things come to those who wait, right?"

"Ain't that the truth," one of his buddies said with a sly grin. "Especially this!" The two laughed, exchanging high-fives with each other and some of their other buddies.

I didn't pay too much attention to the cheers and laughter, though. Instead, I watched as Courtney stepped out of the limo. From the waist up, she was dressed like a proper, respectable chauffeur – black jacket, white cotton shirt, black leather driving gloves and a thin black tie, and a nice black driving cap to top it all off. From the waist down, though ... she wore just a pair of black thigh-high stockings and shiny black stiletto heels. No pants, no panties. The pale, creamy flesh of her thighs and bare bottom looked absolutely stunning in contrast to the stockings ... and, to my surprise, I noticed she'd done a little maintenance work on her nether regions since last I'd seen her. Instead of her usual thatch of short, curly hair between those slim thighs of hers, the flesh surrounding Courtney's tender pussy was complete smooth and bare, save for a neatly-trimmed landing strip of pubic hair that traveled up her mons ... and then disappeared up under her white shirttails.

I grinned in admiration. Even I hadn't expected that. It was nice to know even I could still be pleasantly surprised, every so often.

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