Chapter 1: The Book

Bob had lived in the house for five years before he found the book.

One day he was cleaning the crawl space, for the first time, when he spotted a small brown cover under the ancient dust. It was no more than a quarter inch thick, but was not noticeably different from some of the unevenly laid boards. He found it only when he placed his hand on the flooring to brace himself, only to slide six or seven inches.

The brown little binder reminded him of the little accounting notepads he'd seen at the office supply store. It was 5 inches wide, 7 inches tall, with no title or markings on the outside. Inside were handwritten scrawls he simply couldn't make out in the dark of the crawl space. So finally, after clearing the years of dust away, he tucked the book into his back pocket.

During one of his trips, downstairs he dropped it onto his desk. Now it rested in a small pile of other papers he meant to clear away, as soon as the chance arose.

The chance didn't arise that day, and by the end of the week the stack paper had grown enough to conceal the book again. Bob forgot it for a time. When he remembered it one night, it was beyond his memory where he placed the book.

So there it remained; buried in papers, on his desk, for months. Bob wasn't very prompt clearing away his old bills and letters. The book was there waiting though, when the time came.

Betty was seeing Bob now. She was a pert 5 foot 6 inch beauty with long dark hair, weighing in about 115 pounds. Bob liked to look at her, almost as much as he would like to spend a few private hours exploring her naked body. He imagined her firm breasts, the soft feel of her skin, and the contours of her naked ass often. But, although they'd been dating for 5 months, the closest he'd come was a disappointing necking session. It lasted only long enough for her to point out the food he was cooking would burn.

She would also boss him around a bit. It seemed to him as though his vacation with her was entirely her idea, including his paying for it. Yet they slept separately. And when he suggested that the vacation were her doing, she pointed out that he brought the idea up, hadn't he? He was at a loss how that happened.

If they went out for dinner, she chose the cuisine, whether he liked it or not. Seeing a movie frequently meant one she wanted to see, although it kept sounding as though it was his idea. He wasn't entirely sure how it kept happening. She seemed pretty pleased with him though, but sex was not part of the arrangement.

She also had a brutal temper when offended. He was starting to wonder if the list of offensive issues were too long to continue seeing her. Still, he hadn't had any other dates lately and she was friendly enough for most activities.

Betty also came to his house regularly for meals, TV, and rental movies. Bob didn't mind much, except he'd also like some intimacy to go with the other social activities. But, now she'd decided he needed to straighten up the house a bit, since she was there more often. Since he wasn't doing the cleaning, she took a hand in the process, and if he didn't watch closely, he had to fish things out of the trash.

She would only pout and ask "what do you need that old thing for anyway?" By the time he finished explaining, it was something else that required rescuing from the sanitary engineers.

Bob suspected she had a permanent relationship in mind, particularly since the cleaning assault started. When he confronted her about getting more intimate, she told him "I'm waiting, soon enough either we'll be getting married or not seeing each other any more. I'm saving sex for marriage. You wouldn't like damaged goods would you?" Bob tacitly agreed, but thought, I don't believe it makes anyone damaged.

She cooled to him for a while, and getting her to be sociable became more difficult. But, when the subject didn't come up again for a while, everything returned to normal. Sort of.

During her cleaning project on his house, his desk became one of her afternoon cleaning sessions. She was sorting the papers into neat piles. That is when the book resurfaced.

"What's this?" She asked.

"I dunno," he replied, "I found it while cleaning the crawl space. Thought I'd lost it."

"Well, here," she said, tossing the book to him, "You find it a home; it doesn't seem to belong with the rest of your papers." And so saying, she went back to organizing, sorting, and cleaning. And Bob thought to himself, taking over my life, sigh. It wouldn't be so bad if I got laid out of all this. He watched her backside for time as she flattened the sheets of paper and stacked them neatly for storage.

He looked at the book for a minute and went to the living room. Dropping into his favorite chair, he opened the book to see what was in it. He had to turn on the reading lamp to make out the writing.

First, he thought it was gibberish. Although he could make out the characters clearly now, it was in no script or language he'd ever seen before. The unusual writing was done in a neat, practiced hand, with embellishments that came from frequent use. He felt certain that the author had used the letters many times before and was accustomed to writing in small script. The book was confusing to thumb through.

After a few pages though it started to make sense, although he could still see only nonsense characters. He went back to the first page.

He translated the title page loosely in his mind being an effort to document the control of response from experimental subjects. As he read the book, he found the notes documenting symbology for a proposed language to communicate thought. This lead to discussion, he thought, of some kind of experiment to pass ideas to others without speaking. When he got to the end of the notebook, he vaguely understood the symbols outlined, but concluded the book was nonsense. He was still inclined to keep it, but couldn't say why.

"Well, what is that thing?" Betty's voice came from the door to the kitchen.

"I think some kid was trying to write some kind of prank about their science class, you want to look?"

"Sure," she said walking over towards him sensually, the usual fluid wave motion her hips moved in when she walked. He still couldn't understand how she could be so lithe and sexy yet have no inclination to arousal. She took the book and opened it to the first page. After squinting and staring, her tongue lightly caressing her lips as she obviously struggled to make out the characters.

"What language is this in?"

"I couldn't tell you. Never saw it before in my life."

"I'd say someone was doodling if it weren't so consistent and smoothly written."

"Well, from what I can make out"

"What!" She interrupted, "you can read this gibberish?"

"Well, kind of"

"Oh, sure! And I'm a monkey." She was starting to show severe signs of mad, "If you never saw anything like it before, you aren't going to tell me you can read this!" She threw the book at him and stormed out of the room. Seductively waving, Bob thought to himself, her little ass all the way.

Bob sighed. Then he put the book in a storage box in his basement, along with many other books he figured to have on shelves when they got built. The box itself got stacked with the rest of the boxes. And by Saturday, if Bob were asked, he wouldn't remember which.

The book had found itself a new place to hide. If a book could be believed to have such plans and schemes.

A week or so later, Bob thought about the contents of the book as he went to talk to his boss at work about getting off Friday as compensation for extra time he'd worked last month. It never worked to ask, but he kept trying anyway.

Bob decided to try the symbols in his mind. As he walked into the office, he pushed the idea of the day off towards his boss.

"George, I'd like some of my time back from last month. I know I'm salaried, but I keep having to work a lot of extra hours, and it's getting to be too regular."

"Bob, you come in it seems, every other month or so with this request." The man at the desk leaned back as if thinking it over. He always did.

"Yes, but this is getting to be the norm rather than the exception." Bob had decided to try this approach, but simultaneously he reached out with the book's symbols trying to impress the reasonableness of his request.

"This time I guess I agree with you," responded George. "Just let Marcy know. I'm not promising this will happen again though."

Surprised, but not certain how persuasive the symbols from the book were, as opposed to how George might have simply decided to reward his hard work, Bob stopped to talk to Marcy. Marcy, the secretary working with George and his group, made a note of the day as a compensation day.

As he walked to the men's room, he thought about the results of his experiment. It was very convenient, possibly coincidental. He couldn't be sure if something had happened or not.

An extremely attractive blond, willowy figured with her hair in a bun, and boobs, as Bob thought of them, too large for her frame and weight, was walking the other way.

Amusing himself, Bob imagined himself reaching out with the symbols of the book to her. "Turn around," he thought, "and walk to the storage room at the end of the hall, get undressed quickly for me."

To his amazement, she smiled coyly at him, spun on her heals and walked smoothly down the hall to the storage room. With one hand she was unhooking her dress, the other was opening the door. Then she was inside, and Bob was still stunned as he looked down the hall.

He warily stepped down the hall and through the still open door. The light was still off, so he flicked the switch as he closed the door behind him.

Before him, hands on her naked knees, sitting demurely atop her discarded clothing, she smiled, lightly tilted her head and slowly pushed her chin forward as if posing for a photographer.

Bob knew this woman. This was Fran from the purchasing department. He knew she was married, and confirmed this again by looking at her ring finger. Sure enough there were two rings, a wedding ring and an engagement ring. Her hair still in a bun, she looked about 28 or 29 years old. Not certain how to approach this opportunity, he stood taking in the glorious view.

"Do this often?" He finally asked feeling more than a little awkward and uncertain.

"I just thought it would be nice to let you see how nice I look without my clothes," then she frowned, one of those little 'how did that happen' frowns that looks as though it would be nice to have happen again. "I can't imagine why I've never done this for you before. I'd be glad to undress for you any time though."

Bob crossed the room and reached out to touch her breast. Shocked and startled she slapped his hand away. She shook an attractive finger at him.

"Look, don't touch," was her pronouncement, "You may see everything you want, but I'm married." She slowly got to her feet again and did a small pirouette as he admired her tight bottom, and large tits. Her hands caressed both the curve of her hips, and the undersides of the still firm breasts as she turned for him to look.

Bob suddenly felt vaguely guilty, taking advantage of a married woman. But the thought quickly passed. Bob brought the symbols back into his thoughts and pushed thoughts of being aroused towards her. He also worked in the idea that she would like him to take care of her aroused state.

"Unggghh," she moaned lowly. This time as she turned her eyelids were gently fluttering to half-open and her tongue showed ever so slightly between her lips. "I think, unggh, you better help me with this" she trailed off into another light moan.

This time as he reached out to her breast, she took his hand, and led it directly to the nipple. Fran immediately shuddered with his touch. The heat of the act rose in his groin. Her eyes, a light blue with touches of silver, opened wide, looking deeply into his. A groan of ecstasy crossed her lips. Suddenly her pelvis began to thrust wildly as she went into orgasm. Fran came quickly, before he could touch more than her nipple, pulling and pinching it.

To Bob's disappointment, she was now coming down physically from her sex act. He was still rising. She folded back into the kneeling/sitting position on her clothes, panting with the look of after sex distraction. Another light shudder from Fran gave Bob another strong pulsation in his groin. But he could clearly see she was spent. He figured he could make her reach that peak again, but thought he'd like better control over the process.

He realized he didn't quite understand his new found ability yet. He would need to try some other way to use it before he did this again. On the other hand, he thought, Fran will make a great toy while I learn. He smiled. In her recovery, she curled the corners of her mouth up in an almost lecherous grin,... almost. As one last moan seeped out, her eyes drooped and her chin strained forward again. God!, she really responded like dynamite, thought Bob.

"Well," she said, "I'm afraid they'll start missing me soon if I don't get back. We'll have to find a better way to do this," she coyly licked her lips looking at him, "I don't know what to tell Joe though, he won't want me to leave him, but that was better than any orgasm I've ever had before."

Whoops, "Why do you need to tell Joe," her husband, he realized. "Why don't we keep this our secret?"

She pouted. "Oh, but I can't let this stop, it's better than I've ever known it could be. Besides, I need you soo bad, I don't think I can go without you now."

With this she virtually plastered her body to his and sank her tongue into his mouth in one pulsating kiss, one hand gently caressing his crotch through his pants. This served only to remind him that he hadn't gotten off yet, and was very excited himself.

"Do you think you could take care of my," he started, and realized he had a meeting he'd be late for already. He'd miss it completely if he continued to play. He sighed.

Instead he pushed the thoughts at her that this tryst was their secret, only they should know about it, and she would forget about any sexual activities with him when he wasn't around. He add the last for fear her husband might worm it out of her anyway as she turned to leave, he ran his fingers across her breasts, down her side, and carefully rubbed her bottom, sliding his middle finger along the crack between her cheeks. Fran lightly breathed an animalistic groan as she left.

Somewhat frustrated, but intrigued by this power, he slipped into the meeting. For effect he projected to everyone that he'd been there all along.

That night he began to dig through boxes in the basement. If he could find the book, maybe, just maybe there was something to explain controlling subjects better.

He dug through the boxes for almost two hours before he finally found the book. It was as he remembered it, brown and small. He took it up to his bedroom to examine.

The rest of the evening Bob spent studying and re-studying the book's narration. The symbols became easier to translate, and he found himself thinking in terms of the symbols rather than english for the concepts. He realized it didn't matter because he was never going to explain these concepts to anyone. The easier it became to think this way, the more he could feel the symbols in his head.

Finally, he looked at the clock and saw it was nearly 1:00 AM. He needed to work Thursday, and he needed sleep. Before going to sleep he decided this book required a good safe place for keeping it. He didn't want anyone else to see it or get a chance to read it.

The only other person that knew about it was Betty. Bob figured she'd shown no interest, and was confused or unable to decipher the symbols. She'd probably already forgotten it. If she ever asked, he could tell her the book was thrown out.

It occurred to Bob that if anyone found out what he could do, there would be problems. Notorious secret agencies and spies, etc. Suddenly this became very frightening. He had no idea who or what would want to have this knowledge but he could imagine many people that would kill to get it.

He went to sleep thinking of this.

Not surprisingly, his dreams were filled with hostile agents and 'men from the government, here to help you'. At one point, Betty was sucking his cock and saying between licks, "now remember, I agreed to do this if you just hand over the book." He woke up startled and aroused. It took seconds to see that nobody was in his bedroom with him.

He managed a shaky shower, dressed, and carefully embedded the book back into the box in the basement. If it took him two hours to find it there, it would be unlikely anyone else would find it quickly burgling his house.

He ate his breakfast with abandon, and rushed off to work.

It was Thursday and Bob couldn't keep his mind on work. He thought about the fun he'd had playing in the storage room with Fran the day before. He began to wonder if he could get her there again today.

He wandered by Fran's desk, but she wasn't there. Asking after her, he discovered she was out for the morning at a vendor site for contract work. Disappointed, he thought about looking around the building for another prospective subject.

After a moment though, he thought better of the idea and went back to work. Fran was someone he'd already touched. It might be a good idea to use only the subject he already had worked on before moving to someone else. So instead he wrapped himself in the design he was working up and shortly, was very involved.

After rereading a new section he'd written, he looked up and around the office. Something different was going on in his mind today.

He looked at Randi, the brunette across the aisle from him. He could see, at least in his mind, the book's symbols moving through her mind. With a little effort he could make out her thoughts, piecemeal, as she worked. A stream of ideas and actions melded together as Randi worked her project. He wondered if he could just block them for a moment.

As as he thought of this, he tried it. He instinctively knew which symbol to use and where to insert it. He realized after he'd done it that he'd intended to behave himself until Fran was back. Well, after all, my patience is thin today, he thought.

Meanwhile, Randi, had sat back and looked stumped. She started to scowl. The same problem kept spinning in the patterns in her mind, and every time the solution she'd been working towards came up, Bob's symbol blocked it out. He grinned to himself, and withdrew the symbol. She immediately smiled to herself and scrambled to commit the solution to paper.

Bob remembered Randi at a party he'd had for the office. His house was a mess afterwards, and she'd attended with a skinny bookish fellow. She'd kept that guy on a short leash all night. In fact the only time he saw the guy away from her was when he'd gone to the can.

Bob looked at Randi closely as though for the first time. Her hair was down to her shoulders with decorative clips one either side above her ears. Today she was wearing a trousers and blouse combination. Faintly, through the blouse, he could see a thin bra, although he couldn't make out her nipples. Her breasts were small, but round enough to give her more than a boyish shape. She had dark eyes with a thin nose nestled between and below. Her lips were moist and smooth with just a touch of teeth or tongue occasionally showing as she appeared to mutter to herself.

Bob checked the time. Fran wouldn't be back yet for two more hours. Since he was toying with Randi now, well, what the heck. He started to examine her closely to see what the symbols looked like when she thought.

He discovered there was more than one stream of thought in process. Apparently, most of the nervous system was passing symbols about. He wondered that so many streams could run at once, but the conscious stream was the strongest, most active. He tried inserting an itch sensation into the stream from her shoulder.

Immediately, without dropping any other activity, Randi began to scratch her shoulder. He dropped the sensation and she stopped scratching.

Now, that was something! He pushed a tickle and tingle sensation into her nipples. He was satisfied to see them pop visibly hard under her blouse and bra. She took in a sharp breath but continued to work, resisting the new urge to pay attention to the arousal of her tits. The result seemed to enhance her state so she began to squirm a bit in her seat. A bead of sweat rolled down to her eyebrows.

Now Bob was excited. He wanted to see if he could make her orgasm publicly without any contact. So now he reached out into her body to stimulate the nerves in her crotch. Without dropping the manipulation of her tits, he moved to a sensation from the lips of her pussy, to the clit itself, gently increasing the strength without controlling any other body functions.

She visibly lost her concentration on the project now. Looking around she saw Bob looking at her, and developed a look of panic. Her breath was coming in panting rhythm and her hips had begun a slight sway. She clearly suffered embarrassment at her sudden loss of control. He saw her suppress a moan. He kept moving the sensations and increasing the strength. He eyelids drooped, her tongue moistened her lips and she began to stretch her head and neck from side to side.

Randi turned red with obvious embarrassment. Amused, Bob shot her his best quizzical look. Her stifled moans were turning into sharp grunts. Her hand moved to her crotch. Seemingly she struggled, twisting in her chair a few moments, hoping to suppress the unexpected bodily activity. It was hopeless though. She gave in to her body and slipped the hand into her pants. Bob could only see her arm go under the desk, but he knew exactly what she was fingering. Looking around to see if anyone else could see, Randi gave up the idea of keeping Bob from seeing her condition. A moment later her other hand caressed and twisted her nipples, allowing Bob a view of her delicately red painted fingernails.

She came with a loud thump, almost convulsively, as she suppressed as much sound as she could, jamming her fist in her mouth, her teeth biting down on the knuckles. The stifled little gasps and sobs that followed were a delight to Bob's ears.

As she finished, Randi hung her head to her chest, tucked her feet under the chair spreading her knees, both hands embraced the desk about 4 feet apart. She gasped in the air to stabilize her body. Her hair curtained her face.

Finally, after regaining some composure, she looked up at Bob. He was still watching her with an intensity given of a man who was horny.

"I don't know what came over me," again she flushed with embarrassment.

"I found that very exciting, myself. Do you have this happen often?" he asked as innocently as possible. He really didn't want to give himself away. Looking at the clock, he realized that this had only used 15 minutes of the 2 hours before Fran returned. An hour and three quarters remained. Should he take Randi, certainly not here, but should he take her, too?

"You certainly got a cheap thrill at my expense then, didn't you?!" she snapped, anger rising in her.

"Don't blame me, I never touched you or even got close."

"Yeah," she eased back. "I guess I lost control. That never happened to me before!"

"You have a boyfriend?, I mean do you get enough or maybe do you get excited sensually by yourself when you aren't getting any?"

"I just broke up with John. I don't need to, um, get any, to be just fine thank you." That did it. He looked for the stream from her eyes and added a touch of excitement to it whenever she looked his way. Just a touch.

"Well, I can't figure it out, but I really liked watching you."

"Look you, I don't need you watching me masturbate at work," then she looked at him again, and this time she half lurched. "On the other hand..."

She had that look of realization cross her face. That look someone gets as if seeing something they've seen before in a whole new light. "Um, let's not talk about this now, okay?"

"Okay." he replied. "Instead, let's find a place to fuck."

"Whatever do you think I am!?," He reached under her conscious controls and planted suggestions to meet him in the storage room in 5 minutes. "Some kind of whore? You animal, Bob, you'd better leave me alone or so help me, you'll never hear the end of this."

"Okay Randi, but don't blame me if you can't control those spontaneous orgasms. You did so well with that last one, I hardly noticed. By the way, I'll try the storage room and wait there for you."

Humiliated by her own body, she turned away from him in anger. He just got up and walked down the hall to the storage room to wait. "You'll wait a long time," she called out to him.

Shortly after he'd closed the door, Randi came storming in. He tried to look a little surprised, after all she thought he'd been told off.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?" Again he reached under the conscious level and instructed her body to find the clothing very uncomfortable in his presence.

"Whatever makes you think I'd want to screw a twerp like you!?" That stung, but he was in control of what her body was doing, she was still only acting out rage at being caught in a public orgasm.

She turned towards the door. Instead of exiting though, she took off her shoes and started unbuttoning the pants.

Bob reached around her and began to play with her nipples through the blouse. He tweaked the body controls to prevent her from stopping him. Her body went loose from the arousal.

"You are making it difficult to undress, jerk. Why am I undressing?" She was startled to find her body was still not following the conscious decisions she made to avoid this encounter.

He withdrew his hands and took off his clothing, then locked the door. It hadn't occurred to him anyone would bother them, but what the heck.

"I really don't want to do this Bob." Randi continued to protest as she fondled his now rigid manhood.

"You're lying. Now maybe since you used the term, I'll just call you a whore when we're in private."

She was clearly stunned at the abusive tone he'd begun to take. But she knelt down and tenderly licked his prick. Rubbing the flat sides of her teeth along the length of it she also began playing with his balls.

"You must be some kind of whore, or you wouldn't have come straight here to be fucked." Bob reiterated, pushing the humiliation buttons in her head too.

She opened her beautiful moist lips and engulfed the head of his penis. Although not 'hung' as porn stars, Bob had a good sized cock, about 6 - 7 inches long, but thicker than most. She struggled trying to get it all the way back to her throat. He could feel her tongue wrapping lightly around the glans as she closed her eyes and tried to vacuum an eruption from him.

Bob could feel motion build inside himself as he pressed her head against his cock. Her lips and teeth continued to reach for the root of the organ, and he could see that she was starting to become aroused again herself.

He pulled out of her mouth.

"Stand up, lean against the shelves over there." He pointed out a low shelf that would force her into a bent in the middle position.

"No fucking way, you animal, I don't want to do this with you."

"I'm not keeping you here, by all means leave," he lied. She could no more leave now than he could fly. She couldn't tell that though. Meekly, she assumed the position he suggested.

"Okay, but try not to hurt me." she was resigned to this performance. He had to do something to perk her up, so he planted the same raging heat in her that made her come at her desk. "hnuhn" came moaning from her now as he touched her. He guided his prick into her cunt while she clutched the shelf with her hands. A throaty, "yesssss" rewarded his penetration. He began to pump away, slowly at first and then faster. She continued to "yesss" and "unngg ooooh, plleeeease" as he thrust in again and again. He reached under her as his hips whacked her ass, and found her little tits.

A sharp twist of the nipples generated another series of outrageous moaning from his personal whore. She began to come. Her pelvis humped as hard as it could against his manhood. She suppressed the scream into an almost barking cough, but he didn't let up. He forced her body right back into aroused state by pushing the correct symbols back in place. Already exhausted, she pumped with the adrenalin of another rising orgasm.

Up from his scrotum built a liquid fire sensation that he'd never felt before. He didn't stop pumping the liquid fire into her for what seemed like forever. He finally pulled out washed with pleasure and joy. That was his first fuck in almost a year.

"Happy you scum?" She was flushed with that freshly fucked look, but still was hostile consciously about what was happening. He found that exciting too.

"Lick me clean, whore." She shook her head, but to her own amazement was soon carefully washing his cock and balls of her juices and his come, with her tongue.