The Pact: A Master PC Tale
Copyright© 2013 by Rainmaker
Chapter 9: The Following Morning
Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 9: The Following Morning - 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
On the drive home, I considered exactly what had been done to me through the Master PC program. Yeah, I had a big dick that I was able to control like a maestro’s baton. I didn’t look any different, but when I looked in a mirror at Chuck’s house, I saw my reflection and the first impression I had was that there was nothing there.
A face, a body, yeah. But it was as if I was looking at an empty shell of a human. Could a computer program actually delete a man’s soul? Or maybe, just maybe, there was nothing there to begin with. Maybe a soul is just a convenient story we tell ourselves so we don’t all become monsters.
Fascinating. I’ve been turned into a horny Vulcan.
It was a lightly traveled, winding road that took me away from the Arnovsky’s secluded home – hell, they just don’t want to call it an estate. Just before you clear the hills, there’s an outdated, narrow two-lane bridge that spans a rushing mountain stream far below. As I started across the bridge in the foggy dawn, I noticed the reflective gear of a runner about halfway across, running in the same direction as me.
I knew what I had to do. Don’t ask me why.
Slowing to about 30, I felt no sense of anticipation; I felt nothing. Even when I swerved my SUV at exactly the right moment and sent the runner over the rail and into the ravine clean as a whistle, I felt nothing. No, that’s not true. As I slowed to check the road for any trace of my victim, I realized that I felt a twinge of regret when I saw that it was a young woman whose life I’d claimed.
At the end of the bridge, I stopped only long enough to see if any piece of her fabric, blood, hair was stuck to the side of my SUV. I saw nothing, so I climbed back in and resumed my journey home. I hadn’t seen another soul. I had just committed the perfect crime and I felt nothing.
Great. Chuck hadn’t turned me into a horny Vulcan. I was a horny sociopath.
As I rounded the next curve, I came upon another runner heading the same direction. I tooted my horn as I gave him plenty of space, and he waved his appreciation.
As I found myself on familiar roads nearer to home, my growing arousal informed me that I was indeed capable of feeling something. No question I was thinking about Stacy and lusting after my daughter. And the more I understood how Chuck so casually programmed me in those few moments last night, a number of things had become crystal clear.
After pulling into our garage, I turned on the dome light to read my instructions. Chuck actually went to the trouble (practice, he called it) of giving me trigger phrases to move Stacy into different levels of what, exactly? Compliance? Servitude? Slavery? I rubbed my cock, which seemed thicker than ever and realized that the answer was All of The Above.
I had insisted that he not tamper with her physically, except to run the medical check, curing any hidden ailments, and to make her physically capable of receiving my cock. It found she had low blood sugar; a family thing on my wife’s side which would have troubled her 30 years on. Now, it wouldn’t.
So it was the same Stacy I’d kissed good-bye yesterday who was sitting on the couch watching Real World on what used to be a cool music cable station. Her long, golden hair was pulled back and up with a hard-working scrunchie and she wore pink leggings in addition to one of her practice leotards.
You have a plan. Don’t rape her, was my thought.
My actions, however, were a fatherly kiss on her turned cheek and a “Honey bun. Did you enjoy your day without your dear ol’ dad?”
“I’m not talking to you,” she said, focused on the television.
I expected something like this. “Why not, babe?”
She turned and tears were forming already. This girl couldn’t bluff a statue in poker. “You were gone all night! No phone call, no note! Not even a cop car to notify your next-of-kin!” she half-screamed. “I was losing my mind!”
“You looked pretty calm when I walked in here,” I said.
“That’s because Mr. Arnovsky called about an hour ago to tell me you’d spent the night in his pool house,” she kept the outrage on high. “Daddy! A pool house? Really?”
“Well, it’s not every day your dear ol’ dad (damn, I’ve used that twice. Stop it!) runs into a nice lady who wants to get to know him better,” I said more or less truthfully. “it seemed like a good idea at the time.-- and my phone lost its charge.”
I dropped the dead cell phone on the couch next to her. She seemed somewhat satisfied.
“Well, I’m gonna stay mad at you until you tell me all about her!” she said, patting the coach next to her. “Come on, dad! Give it up!”
Okay! This plan had a fighting chance after all.
“Sorry you missed the party at Chuck’s house, BabyOneTime, “ I said, almost cringing at the trigger word Chuck chose. Stacy’s smile grew.
She took my hand.
“You know, I’ve always worried about you since you kicked mom out,” she said, grasping it firmly with both hands. “You thought I didn’t know, but I knew you were done long before you did.”
“Really?” I said, surprised.
“You know, she was over here at the house,” Stacy said. “Mrs. McKinnon. She was over here.”
“How many times?” I asked, growing angry and curious despite myself. I could still feel that pain, after all.
“Does it matter?” Stacy asked, looking me in the eye.
“Yeah, it kinda does,” I said. “One of the reasons I was so extreme with my demands was to protect you.”
“Me? From mom?“ Stacy let go of my hand and stood up pretty much in my face. “I thought you booted her to protect her from me.”
“I didn’t know you knew, “ I said, arms spread in apology.
“She cheated on you, cheated on us, with that dyke tat freak,” she was turning red, she was so worked up. “I wanted to kill the bitch.”
This was not the old Stacy talking. Chuck grew her up in some not-so-visible ways. “So I guess there’s something else you knew,” I said, looking away.
“That she didn’t love me? That she hated having another woman around the house, even one in diapers?” she screamed, getting something long-suppressed out on the table. “Oh, yeah. She and I had that talk when I was about eight. Basically, she told me to stay out of her way and she’d let me have mine.”
Stacy knelt down in front of me, tears flowing now.
“But I was never going to let you down, Dad,” she sniffed. “You being proud of me meant more than anything in the world, It still does.”
“I am proud of you,” I said softly. “I love you BabyTwoTimes.”
She looked at me oddly, but when I pulled her gently to me and kissed her full on the lips, she did not resist. After a moment, she returned the affection in a reserved way.
“Oh, wow,” she said as she drew away. “Fantasy alert.”
“What Do you mean?” I asked, smile frozen on my face at the unexpected remark.
“C’mon, Dad. You must know or you wouldn’t have done that just now,” Stacey said, eyes sparkling somehow in the light. “your little princess always wondered what it would be like if her daddy kissed her like a prince.”
“So now you know,” I actually said. “That’s...”
That thought would never be finished as she hungrily sought out another kiss, this time pushing me back against the couch as she kissed me again and again. But this would not go the way her fantasy wanted. This was my party.
“Hey, hey! If you’re going to devour me, you’ll never hear about my date,” I said. She froze in place; between her own emotions and her programming, she momentarily forgot. She composed herself and a down next to me, leg folded beneath her.
“I won’t let you off that easy,” she said. “Talk.”
“She’s got brownish-red hair, great smile, awesome boobs...” I began, describing Todd-as-Brooke.
“Nobody’s perfect,” my flat-chested daughter quipped. I wanted to laugh out loud at her quick wit, but that bastard Chuck had taken it from me. I had to suffice with a comical raising of my eyebrows, a la Groucho.
“She wanted me to make woman out of her,” I said deadpan. “How could I refuse?”
“I’m jealous,” she said.
“Jealous? Why?” I asked stupidly.
“Dad, you know I’m still a virgin, right?” she looked at me with a steely glare. “Right?”
“I always expected you to make the right decision,” I said. “You’re smart and I trusted you right down the line.”
“Why did you trust me?” she blurted. “I wanted to know. I wanted to be bad. I wanted to disappoint you. But I couldn’t!”
“Why? Did you feel like I controlled you?” I asked, getting harder than I could have expected.
“No. Yes! I don’t know,” she groaned, sitting on the couch. “Feeling like you controlled me made me feel safe. When I felt safe, I felt like I could do anything!”
“Then kiss me again,” I said. “Like a princess who found her prince. I liked that, a lot.”
My daughter was glowing, a smile that began in her eyes was illuminating the entire room. She slinked up to me with one of her best Bob Fosse jazz moves, stepping up to put one foot on the couch between my legs, the other on the floor. Her arms were folded around my neck in almost serpentine fashion and her eye contact spoke volumes to me.
We kissed again. This time, neither of us pulled away.
It was slow. It was gentle. It was sweet. And it was exactly how Chuck and I drew it up.
“You have your mother’s lips,” I said as I drew away. She managed to wrinkle her nose while still looking like an angel.
“Is that a good thing, daddy?” she whispered in my ear before kissing it.
“It is, because they’ll fit so perfectly around my cock, BabyThreeTimes,” I said.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said in a throaty voice. She slid down my body and found herself on her knees in front of me, grinning a grin that I did not recognize, but knew immediately. She unzipped my jeans without ever losing eye contact, but the rest of the job required a little more attention and as I’d planned, when my new 18-incher was freed, it slapped her across the face.
She gasped. And then she grinned again.
“That’s it,” this stranger said to me. “Slap me around with your juicy cock.”
And since I gotten a pretty good handle on using these18 inches, I landed some pretty juicy sounding smacks onto her willing face. But when I stopped and nodded to her, Stacy did not hesitate to get a grip on it and take all 18 inches DOWN HER THROAT. The big blue eyes that stared right through me were hers, and it could only be her long, long hair that flew around as she worked the length of my cock with ease.
This orgasm won’t be long in coming, I thought. But Chuck had somehow given me more control that I had a right to expect. I was able to enjoy the experience and the view until she started this gargling vibration thing that no teenager had any business knowing.
“I’m real close, baby,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Ooh! Would you come on my face, please?” she said, taking my cock out of her mouth for the first time in 10 minutes.
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