Selling the Neurocommand
Copyright© 2026 by rustbecci
Chapter 4
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 4 - A disgruntled female scientist teams up with a slimy sales person and a kinky female sex-enthusiast to scam a former business contact for all he is worth by selling a device called the NeuroCommand. The Neurocommand gives the owner complete control over connected female subjects. It is all fake, but they will have to sell it.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Coercion Consensual Mind Control NonConsensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction MaleDom Anal Sex Analingus Masturbation Oral Sex AI Generated
The office had been meticulously transformed into a futuristic BCI lab—sleek white walls lined with glowing screens displaying fake neural-mapping charts, prototypes encased in illuminated glass domes on the conference table, and dramatic LED underlighting casting an ethereal blue hue over everything. The air hummed with the soft whir of a “centrifuge” prop, adding to the illusion of cutting-edge innovation.
Katelyn Reeves sat at the head of the table, her slim frame composed in a black turtleneck and tailored slacks, shorter dark hair tucked behind one ear, blue eyes sharp but playing the part of the slightly naive genius. Harry Thompson leaned casually against a prototype stand a subtle cologne wafting as he flashed his charming smile.
Jack Harrington dominated the opposite chair, his height was almost identical to Harry, Dana noticed, but she also noticed his obvious gray hair implants that were perfectly coiffed and was much more overweight than Harry. Jack’s piercing eyes scanned the room with arrogant skepticism, bespoke suits screaming old money.
Dana Ellis hovered near the sideboard, her 5’3” was dressed in a navy polka-dot dress this time with a cinched waist and moderate heels, brown hair in flawless victory rolls, hiding some of her extra curves. Her make-up was heavy accentuating her warm brown eyes. She played the eager assistant flawlessly—smiling politely, but ready to “perform” the scam’s hook on Harry’s command.
Harry launched the pitch with smooth confidence, his voice like velvet:
“NeuroCommand—voice your will, own their mind. Absolute compliance, zero resistance. Imagine the applications: in business, therapy, or ... personal control.”
He gestured to the prototypes, the hearing-aid transmitter in his ear discreet, the fake neck implant on Dana visible just above her collar.
Jack leaned forward, intrigued but dismissive. “Talk’s cheap, Thompson. Show me.”
Harry nodded, glancing at Katelyn, who gave a subtle approving nod—her smartwatch “syncing” with a faint beep for effect. “Of course. Dana here is our volunteer subject—implanted with the early prototype. No safeguards yet, just raw neural override.”
Dana stepped forward, her expression shifting to feigned normalcy, then subtle unease as Harry “activated” the device with a tap on his transmitter. In reality, it was all theater—Dana’s street-smart wit hidden behind the act.
“First demo: something simple,” Harry said casually. “Dana—pour a glass of scotch for Mr. Harrington, Ms. Reeves, and myself. Do not pour one for yourself.”
Dana’s body “responded” with a brief hesitation—her hand twitching as if fighting an invisible pull, brown eyes widening in “horror.” She moved to the sideboard decanter, pouring three perfect glasses with steady hands: one for Jack (handed with a polite nod), one for Katelyn (placed carefully before her), and one for Harry (set beside him). When she reached for a fourth glass for herself, her arm froze mid-air, trembling dramatically, then dropped limp to her side. She returned empty-handed, face flushing with “shame,” sitting back down without a word.
Jack was not impressed. “That’s it? That’s why you got me here?”
Harry grinned. “No, just a simple opening. Pure neural command. She wanted that drink—look at her face—but the implant overrode her will.”
Dana added the touch, her voice wavering as if compelled: “I ... I tried to pour one. Couldn’t. It’s like my body’s not mine.”
Katelyn interjected nerdily, adjusting her smartwatch: “The override targets decision centers and deprioritizes the self-instinct in favor of the orders. Dangerous, but we’re iterating for safety.”
Jack Harrington leaned back in his chair, the initial scotch demo still fresh—Dana’s empty hands and flushed “helpless” expression lingering in his mind. His blue eyes narrowed with growing hunger, the arrogant smirk deepening as he swirled his untouched glass.
“Not bad for a party trick,” Jack said, voice dripping skepticism laced with intrigue. “But obedience on drinks? Any hypnotist could pull that. Make her do something she’d never volunteer for. Something ... personal.”
Harry’s charming smile widened, brown eyes crinkling as he exchanged a quick glance with Katelyn—her nerdy facade nodding subtly, smartwatch “syncing” with another theatrical beep. “Absolutely, Jack. Let’s escalate. Dana—tell us the most embarrassing thing that happened to you last week. Spare no details. You can’t stop until it’s all out.”
Dana, still seated with her hands folded primly in her lap (the perfect 1950s housewife assistant), froze for a beat. Her warm brown eyes widened in feigned panic, heavier makeup accentuating the “horror” as her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She clutched the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, body language screaming internal resistance—shoulders tensing, a small shake of her head as if fighting an invisible force.
“I ... I don’t want to...” she whispered, voice trembling, but the “implant” overrode. Her mouth opened against her will, words tumbling out in a rush of scripted humiliation.
“Last Tuesday ... I was at the grocery store in my favorite vintage dress—the red one with the petticoat. I bent over to get something from the bottom shelf, and ... and the seam in the back split completely open. No panties that day because the lines showed, and ... everyone saw. An old man behind me gasped so loud the whole aisle turned. My ... everything was on display for a full minute while I tried to back out without making it worse. Someone laughed. A kid pointed. I had to waddle to the bathroom holding the dress closed, petticoat rustling like an idiot. I cried in the stall for ten minutes.”
Dana’s voice cracked on the last words, hands flying to cover her face in “shame,” body curling forward slightly as if trying to disappear. Tears welled convincingly at the corners of her eyes, smudging her eyeliner further. She peeked through her fingers, “mortified,” whispering, “I can’t believe I just said that ... I tried not to...”
Harry let the silence hang for a beat, then turned to Jack with a raised eyebrow. “She’d never share that voluntarily—Dana’s private about personal stuff. But the command pulled it right out. No filters yet in this prototype.”
Katelyn added nerdily, pushing invisible glasses up her nose, “The override bypasses social inhibition centers. It’s ... invasive, yes, but that’s the power. We’re working on consent protocols for the next version, so the owner can limit what can be ordered.”
Just then, Harry’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it theatrically, eyes widening. “Well, damn. Just got a text—looks like a certain billionaire’s team is circling for a ten-percent stake. Defense applications, exclusive. We need to move fast if you’re interested, Jack.”
Jack’s face tightened with urgency, ego flaring. “Ok, show me more. I want to see how far this goes.”
Jack Harrington leaned back in his chair, the grocery-store wardrobe malfunction confession still hanging in the air—Dana curled slightly, “shamed,” hands over her face. He swirled his scotch, eyes narrowing, the hook sinking but not yet set.
“That was embarrassing, sure. Girl looked ready to die saying it.” He glanced at Dana’s trembling form, then fixed Harry with a challenging stare. “But it’s still just words. Could be rehearsed. But it is not something that could ruin her if it got out.”
Harry tapped the transmitter theatrically again. “Dana—make up a story for us. A complete lie, but tell it as if it’s absolutely real. Make it the most humiliating, incriminating sexual secret you can imagine—something involving raping another girl with your dog when you were younger. Describe it in full, explicit detail, like it happened to you and you’ve never told anyone. Make it so convincing we could use this recording to blackmail you. You can’t stop until it’s all out.”
Dana’s body went rigid—hands slamming to her mouth, eyes wide with “horror,” shaking her head frantically. “No ... I can’t say that ... it’s too awful...” A muffled whimper escaped, body curling forward as if trying to physically block the words.
But the “override” kicked in. Her hands dropped limp, fingers twisting her dress fabric. Tears spilled as her voice started small, trembling, then gained horrifying momentum—delivered with raw, broken intensity. Dana delivered the act beautifully, but in reality, it was one of the scenarios they had rehearsed.
“When I was sixteen ... my parents were out of town for a weekend conference. I invited my classmate Emily over—she was this shy, pretty girl from English class, long blonde hair, always blushing around me. We’d been friends for months, but I knew she had a crush. She showed up with her overnight bag, excited about movies and popcorn. We hung out in my room, giggling, but as it got late, she started getting touchy—brushing my arm, leaning in close. She confessed she liked girls, liked me. Tried to kiss me. I ... I played along at first. Let her think I was into it, but I was horrified and wanted to teach her a lesson. We made out on my bed, her hands under my shirt, mine sliding down her pants. She was eager, pulling her panties down herself, spreading her legs, begging me to touch her.”
Dana’s voice cracked, tears streaming freely now, body curling forward as if trying to disappear into herself.
“But then ... I flipped her over, pinned her wrists behind her back with one hand, sat on her legs so she couldn’t move. She laughed at first, thought it was part of the game. But I called my dog—Buddy, our big German Shepherd—into the room. He came trotting in, tail wagging. I spread her cheeks wide and ... guided his snout right between her legs. He started licking immediately—rough, slobbery tongue lapping at her pussy, over her clit, inside her folds. She freaked out, screaming ‘Stop, what are you doing?!’ but I held her down, told her to shut up and take it. He went at it for ten full minutes—his cold nose bumping her, tongue thrusting deep, her juices mixing with his drool. She was sobbing, begging, trying to buck away, but I kept her pinned. Her body betrayed her—she got wetter, started moaning through the tears, hating herself for it until her body finally orgasmed against her will.”
She paused, choking on a sob, but the words kept coming.
“After ... I tried to make her kiss his penis. Pulled her head close to his red rocket, still slick from the licking. Told her to thank him for making her cum. She gagged, cried harder, refused until I slapped her ass and threatened to let him mount her. She pecked it once, vomiting a little in her mouth. She cried all night on the floor—I figured she had learned her lesson and probably never dreamed of being with a woman again. When I woke she was gone. We never spoke again. She switched schools a week later. I’ve never told anyone. If that got out—with proof—I’d be labeled a rapist, an animal abuser. My life ruined forever.”
Dana curled forward completely, hands over her face, whispering through fingers, “I tried so hard not to say it ... it just came out. Please ... forget I said that...”
The room fell dead silent except for her ragged breathing. She peeked through her fingers, whispering in a shattered voice, “Please ... forget I said anything...”
Katelyn cleared her throat awkwardly, playing her role: “The inhibition bypass opportunities are unlimited in this build. You call it just words, but you see how powerful they can be.”
Harry let the weight settle, then turned to Jack. “That’s the power, Jack. No secrets left. Imagine what you could do with this in negotiations ... or personally.”
Jack’s breathing had quickened, his cold blue eyes fixed on Dana’s curled, “broken” form. He set his glass down hard, leaning forward. “Holy shit. She really couldn’t stop. That’s ... that’s real.” A predatory grin spread. “Do another. I want to see how deep this rabbit hole goes.”
Harry chuckled smoothly. “Plenty more where that came from, Jack. But time’s ticking—that billionaire text wasn’t a bluff.”
Jack Harrington’s cold blue eyes gleamed with predatory satisfaction as Dana’s “helpless” confession hung in the air. The flush on her cheeks, the way she curled slightly in her chair hiding her face—perfect acting, but it had landed. He set his scotch down with a deliberate clink, leaning forward, voice low and demanding.
“Alright, that was cute. Powerful for sure, but still just talk. I hope this is more than just words.”
Harry paused dramatically, exchanging a loaded glance with Katelyn. She adjusted her smartwatch with a faint beep, playing the nerdy inventor monitoring “neural feedback,” and gave a subtle nod. Harry turned back to Jack with his trademark charming grin, but laced with just enough gravity to sell the escalation.
Harry’s charming smile didn’t falter—he leaned forward casually, tapping the transmitter in his ear for effect. “Physical it is, Jack. No problem. The override hits motor control actions just as hard.”
Katelyn shifted nerdily in her seat, smartwatch glowing as she “monitored neural spikes,” adding quietly, “This will demonstrate proprioceptive hijack. She’ll resist ... but compliance is inevitable.”
Harry locked eyes with Jack, voice smooth. “Dana—stand up, turn your back to us, bend over and touch your toes. Then lift your dress up over your hips and hold it there—expose your underwear completely. Stay in that position until I say otherwise. No covering up, no straightening.”
Dana’s reaction was electric. She shot to her feet with a gasp, hands flying to clutch the hem of her polka-dot dress as if to anchor it down. Her warm brown eyes went wide with “panic,” heavier makeup accentuating the flush creeping up her neck. “No ... please, not that...” she whispered, body already pivoting against her will—turning her back to the table, legs spreading slightly for balance.
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