The Pact: A Master PC Tale - Cover

The Pact: A Master PC Tale

Copyright© 2013 by Rainmaker

Chapter 12: Deeper and Deeper

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 12: Deeper and Deeper - A Master PC story, and the trials and errors of responsibility. And a teenage ballet school.

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Fa/ft   Ma/mt   Mult   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Mind Control   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   TransGender   Fiction   Celebrity   Slut Wife   Wimp Husband   Incest   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Fisting   Squirting   Lactation  

After having salvaged a young woman’s life and my immortal soul, I proceeded to sell out the latter anyway. I took my relationship with Stacy hardcore. I turned her from the playful nudist she’d become into a slamming body of sex. Her programming was set for her to respond instantly to my suggestions or commands. So harder, faster Stacy were the new magic words.

I didn’t plan it that way but it must have surely seemed that way to her.

I came home exhausted from all of the precise measuring required to save Anita’s leg but at the end of the matter, the computer did all of the work and we mainly were there to not fuck it up. Taking even more time was a series of Macro programs designed to set up Mitch’s soon-to-be-public practice. Stacy was doing some of Karen Castle’s famous ballet stretches. She wore tights but nothing from the waist up as her small, perfect chest was glistening with workout sweat (and a little glitter?).

She dutifully finished the timed exercise before rushing up to kiss me ever so lightly on the lips as she pulled a muscle-t over her breasts. I hugged her tightly.

“You gonna give me boobs?” she blurted out.

I’d actually expected that question at some point since telling her part of her Master PC story.

“No way. You’re a dancer, a classical ballet dancer, pure and simple,” I said, rubbing her back. “Now, if I thought Vegas was the best you could do...”

She snorted out a laugh.

“Vegas!? I’m aiming for he big time, Daddy O’ Mine,” she lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. “It’s Branson or nothing.”

After a momentary shock to realize she was actually joking, I roared with laughter in delight and appreciation that my daughter was still in there. I kissed that glowing, beautiful face, but in a moment she was on tip-toe, kissing me with her arms around my neck. With arousal came dubious judgment.

“Sit on the couch and take off your tights and toe shoes,” I said. She did so in one graceful motion and seemed like some sculpted work of art. “I’m going to give you some commands, and you will realize it, but there will be nothing you can do about it.

“I am going to give you a trigger phrase that will do the following: It will make you lustfully horny for me, and realize that fucking beats out family values every time. You will be all about fucking without inhibition or consequences.”

Still breathing hard from her workout, Stacy’s face betrayed nothing, but her breathing remained heavy, labored. She bit her lip.

“You will have no reason to hold anything back sexually, because we love you the way you are and that includes your ability to be sweet or be a slutty whore.”

Stacy smiled, but her breathing remained heavy.

“Before I trigger you to the extreme, I am going to revert you to my daughter, the way you were two weeks ago,” I said. “Still an innocent, still a virgin...”

“No!” she exclaimed.

“No, what?” I blurted.

“No, sir, I wasn’t a virgin two weeks ago. I’m sorry, daddy.”

“Oh, really?” I couldn’t help but be startled, but at the same time I realized it no longer mattered. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Who was it?” I asked; her truthfulness was compelled by now.

“Mom’s date for my birthday,” Stacy said. “Mom said it was a present.”

I ground my teeth. “Wow. Guess it was a special day,”

“Not that way,” she said. “Not that way, Daddy!”.

I ignored her. “Basic Stacy template,” I said.

The air was suddenly thick with discomfort.

“Dad? I’m not wearing any clothes,” she said softly, pulling the towel over her form but careful not to move otherwise. “Why?”

“I wanted to see if it mattered, to turn back the clock,” I said.

Stacy was totally silent, processing all that had been done with her, done to her and things she did all on her own over the last 48 hours without betraying a single emotion on her face. I actually once checked her levels to make sure she was feeling emotion at all; indeed, they were flooding through her.

“What are you thinking now, sweetheart?” I asked after a fashion.

“So Todd’s a hot chick now?” she asked, eyebrow cocked just so.

“The hottest,” I said, and the chuckle broke the ice a little. “Mr. Arnovsky is a menace with that thing, so it sort of fell to me to take custody of it.”

“And the first thing you do with it is arrange to have sex with your daughter,” said, more explanatory than accusatory.

“Well, not first[/i},” I said lamely. “But it happened pretty quickly.”

“I guess I should be glad that you programmed me so I wouldn’t be traumatized. I hear therapy is expensive as shit.”

“For both of us,” I said. “I got programmed before you did.”

“So that’s it,” she said, nodding as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. “Did someone else program me, too?”

“I’m afraid so,” I said. “No point in lying about it.”

“Dad, we’ve already fucked. That’s done. Nowhere to go but forward,” she calmly said. “This really feels creepy and if you touch me I’ll probably scream.”

“I understand,” I said nodding. She wrapped her blanket around herself a little more tightly. “So, we’re not the Waltons ... I really have nothing else to say, except please do not do this to me again.”

“You’re not running screaming from the room, either,” I said, feeling equally odd. “Okay, fine. Stacy Childers, current settings.”

Calmness returned to her face and she relaxed noticeably.

“Thank God that’s over,” she sighed. “I don’t know why you’d do that to us. God, daddy, making me want it is a big, big difference. I love being your lover who can still pretend to be your daughter. But I can’t have either one taken away from me ... Still, I can’t wait to be your whore.”

I stood up and stripped.

“Stacy. Repeat after me and believe every word you say.”

“Yes, master ... daddy.”...

“My name is Stacy Childers. My father, Lawrence Childers, created me with his seed. I owe my existence to him and I love him for it.”

Word for word, she repeated it, a huge smile on her face and a single tear running down her cheek.

“ ... My name is Stacy Childers. I love being with my lover and showing the world how much he means to me. I always want to look my best in public for him and I never want him to be ashamed of me.”

“My name is Stacy Childers. I am a gifted dancer and student and work hard at being the best I can be. I love my fellow dancers and my instructors and we are comfortable loving each other. Our feelings do not get in the way of our learning.”

She repeated it.

“My name is Stacy Childers. As much as I enjoy sex with either guys or girls of my choosing, my asshole belongs solely to my daddy. I am able to do anything he asks to satisfy him sexually, and there is nothing he can ask of me that I won’t comply.”

“My name is Stacy Childers. I am a whore. This thrills me to know. Lawrence Childers is my master. I will only call him master when he allows.”

Whew.

“Stacy, take a long shower to consider your programming. But please don’t allow it to be too hot, I love you.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” she demurely kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Stacy, wait.” She stopped and looked back over her bare shoulder.

“Yes dad?” Her bare white ass was so perfect.

“Do we get rid of your bed?” I asked.

Her eyes sparkled like diamonds as she pondered the question.

“No. I might have a slumber party or company over,” she said. “Thanks for asking, though. You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Second thoughts?”

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