The Pact: A Master PC Tale - Cover

The Pact: A Master PC Tale

Copyright© 2013 by Rainmaker

Chapter 21: Audrey’s Story

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 21: Audrey’s Story - 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  

Audrey Bellamy might have looked like a hippie chick to most residents of Daytown. But the tassel-wearing, peace-loving flake was one of the most ambitious dancers Alice Miller had ever seen.

First to practice, last to leave – her hours working on her routines so exceeded everyone else’s that Alice finally gave her a key to the place. In return, she’d take out the trash and run the vacuum now and then.

But mostly, she would dance. Hour upon hour, wearing out the classic piece on Alice’s ancient turntable, and frequently in the nude. She loved the sensation of sweat flying off of her body as she followed a spin with a pirouette, and the way it glistened off her skin in the partial light. Ms. Miller told her that she’d go far, and a special guest, a pro named Susan Castle, confirmed as much in a meeting she’d never forget. But “far” for her would only be a far as Las Vegas.

Her petite-yet-toned body was perfectly suited towards that city’s dozens of topless revues, as was her gung-ho attitude about sex. This particular morning, as she went from room to room with the trash bag, she considered the daring night she’d just experienced.

Keeping up her hippie chick front to her parents, she told them she was going out of town to plant some flowers in a soldier’s cemetery. Where she went was a dance club halfway to Los Angeles that winked at the 21-only laws. In the dressing room, a transformation took place that would have astounded her friends at home as the teen hippie emerged in makeup, heels and glitter as quite the show stopper.

Which is what she did – again. Attacking the dancer’s pole like it was a baton, she twirled herself in ways that amazed ever her. Barely wearing a skimpy bikini with heels and the aforementioned glitter, she gave the crowd flashes of things they thought they saw and would dream about that night.

Finishing her final routine with a spin on the pole with her right foot behind her head, Audrey ran her hand down the length of her leg and paused just long enough over her pussy for the crowd to know what she’d done. Spinning her way to the floor, she finished in a front split, something that many of her dance classmates had trouble doing.

But as she took her bows, as cheers and dollar bills descended upon her, Audrey’s sharp eye picked up on something very odd – a bill with Grover Cleveland in the center. Picking it up and looking more closely in the flashing lights, she confirmed she held in her hand a $1,000 bill – something that had been out of circulation for over 40 years.

She flipped it over out of curiosity, and saw in a small but bold hand, TABLE 3C. She looked in that direction and saw a bespectacled man wave at her. She did not respond, but hurriedly cleared the stage of her earnings and found four more of the Clevelands in the stack.

Backstage, she considered throwing her hippie gear on, but her mysterious benefactor obviously was buying into the illusion. So instead, she added a new layer of bright red lipstick and spritzed on some expensive perfume belonging to one of the other dancers. She slipped on a silk kimono-style robe and went to meet the man who valued her time so.

“Hi. I’m Audrey,” she said, extending her hand.

“Please sit,” he responded, politely but clearly in no mood for introductions.

“You got my attention,” she said as a familiar waiter offered her a martini. “I never sit with paying customers usually.”

“Then I’m flattered you would make an exception,” he said. “Please, call me Master.”

She couldn’t help it; she snorted and sprayed her drink everywhere.

“You said, ‘mister, ‘ right?” she said, unable to prevent her grin. The man, stone-faced, shook his head.

“I’m so sorry! You just caught me by surprise there ... Master,” she said, trying to dab up the spill.

“So, how does a 17-year-old find a place so far from home to dance, Audrey Bellamy?” he asked.

Shocked and not a little creeped out, she chose her words slowly.

“I find a place like this very carefully,” she said. “I place where I feel safe being my true self. That apparently isn’t the case.”

“Is it? You true self, I mean,” he replied. “Quite a difference from the leather vest and worn-out jeans you seem to enjoy back home.”

“Look, how do you know so much about me?” she said. “Answer me, or I am out of here right now.”

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