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From: ladd@cs.unc.edu (Brian C. Ladd)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MNA: Not a Cruel Man (mf mc) 01/01
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Date: 16 Oct 1995 09:35:41 -0400
Message-ID: <45tn3d$ja@baldhead.cs.unc.edu>
Reply-To: ladd@cs.unc.edu

=============================================================================
                        Mindnumbing Archive Repost
=============================================================================

WARNING
    The following is eroitc in nature. If you are under the legal age of
    consent in your local jurisdiction, stop reading now. If you are
    easily offended, please stop reading now.
GNINRAW

The curator of the MNA most likely did NOT write the story which
follows. Authors, when known, are acknowledged in the body of the
file. Assemble the various parts of related messages, removing everything
outside the [BEGIN] [END] markers and you'll have the "complete"
story. See the MNA Index posted to alt.sex.stories.d for chapter counts and
synopses.

If you have similar materials, please repost them, too.

Comments, encouragement, and additional material for the archive gratefully
received; flames, repost requests, and e-mail requests rapidly dispatched
to the void.

If you're an author in the MNA and you do not want your story reposted:
Contact me at ladd@cs.unc.edu and I will remove your story from the
reposting list. If you're an author of an Unknown story and you want to
take credit for it, contact me as well, please.

[BEGIN]
From: Boris Ludmenkov <borisl@room3b.demon.co.uk>

The following is a contestant in the "BOX OF DELIGHTS" Mind Control 
Sweepstakes. (I refer you to that excellent story for more 
information.)

This is just the first part. Suggestions are welcomed as to what comes 
next....

Boris Ludmenkov
Pornographer and Pervert

"What a lot of sex you must have gone without to think of such things."
-From Alasdair Gray's "1982 Janine" A wonderful book. Do read it.

NOT A CRUEL MAN

I'm not a cruel man. At least I like to think not. Since I invented the
Gizmo, I've not used it (as I could have) to revenge myself on the teacher
who humiliated me when I was twelve or the girls (many girls) who
humiliated me when I was sixteen. And twenty-two. And thirty- three.

And I've even done some good. I've helped friends off drugs and
alcohol. (Without telling them how I was helping, of course.) And the
Police have been delighted with the sudden spate of unsought confessions
and incriminating errors made by criminals in South East England in the
past few years. I've enjoyed being the Scourge of Criminals: the secret
Avenger and Righter of Wrongs.

But that's not the primary use I put the Gizmo to. Oh no.

I've managed to make myself, if not rich, at least comfortable. A few
visits to casinos, a few chats to their managers, soon found me the ones
where the games were rigged. For one night only they were rigged in my
favour. Afterwards the hard eyed men forgot that I had even been there. I
didn't go too often to any one well and afterwards I put the money safely
where it would earn me enough to stretch the pay of a University Professor
to cover the little luxuries I had always dreamed of.

I didn't give up the job. I actually enjoy teaching and besides the job was
helpful in pursuing my main use for the Gizmo. Every year there was a new
batch of students. Graduates and undergraduates. I could take my pick of
the best. And no one could stop me.

Let me tell you how I use the Gizmo. I won't (even here) write down details
of how it works. I hope that the secret will die with me. I keep watch on
the papers to see if anyone is getting near making the discovery I
accidentally made. I dread waking up one morning and finding that the
country, perhaps the world has fallen into the hands of someone
unscrupulous enough to use the Gizmo for political power. I've made myself
immune to the effects but still....

Sometimes I wonder if I'm not already too late. The results of the last two
elections in this country were very, very puzzling to the pollsters....

Anyway, I was going to tell you how I put the Gizmo to use. This story
isn't one of the early episodes. I was both nervous and inexperienced
then. I made some ghastly mistakes and once came very close to being
exposed. This is how I use the Gizmo now, with those experiences behind me
and the proper safety procedures in place.

The time I am thinking of was just at the beginning of the academic
year. It was autumn in England and the trees were turning the first tinges
of brown. I had returned to the University after a summer spent on the
Mediterranean. I had taken my last year's toy with me: a graduate student
who was going on to work at Harvard. I don't stop my women from advancing
their careers. Oddly enough all of them seem to have prospered after
knowing me. Perhaps I've a weakness for intelligent women. And after all, a
change is as good as a rest. Each year I liked to find a new candidate and
experience the pleasures of breaking her in.

When I got back to my office there was a week's worth of paper piled high
in my in tray and I plunged into the details of university administration
for the next few days. When I came up for air, it was at the sound of a
knock on my office door.

A woman stood there. She was slim and rather petite, only a little over
five foot two. Her hair was dark brown and her eyes hazel, rather severe
behind National Health Glasses. She was dressed severely too, in something
grey and brown. (I don't pay a lot of attention to women's clothing: unless
I'm using it as part of my... scenarios.) Her bust though, was generous for
her small size and I didn't like the way she failed to present it
properly. She slouched, in short, as if to de-emphasise her female
attributes. I don't like that.

"Ah, Professor Hillman. So glad I caught you. My name is Cynthia
Mattel. I'm the new equal opportunities officer. I wonder if I might have a
moment of your time."

I gestured at the seat opposite me and she sat. What followed was the most
boring twenty minutes of my professional career. What we had here was a
woman with a Mission. I had to listen (I think it was four times) to the
same basic lecture on What We Are Doing For Minorities and Women.

I had promised the figures on student intake to her three times and she had
given me the same lecture four times and failed to hear my hints about how
much work I had to do five times before I decided that she, although older
than my usual companions, would perhaps do very nicely. My mind drifted
during the fourth repetition of her tedious little speech (she had been on
a course, I decided: your tax money at work.) and I wondered what she would
look like...

My hand wandered across to the PC on my desk almost without thinking. A
touch of a control and the program on it halted and switched to the control
screen for the Gizmo.

TO INITIATE NEW SUBJECT PRESS F12.

My hand hesitated for a moment over F12 and then I heard the dreaded words
"and for our Single Parent Access Program we will require...". I pushed
down firmly.

The Gizmo hidden in the recess behind the bookcase clicked and hummed to
life. Ms Mattel fell silent.

After a moment, I took a deep breath and stood up. Cynthia was sitting
still, a slightly glazed expression on her face as if she were listening to
something very important but very, very far away. I went to the door of the
outer office, past the desk where my secretary usually sits and locked it,
turning off the light in the outer office as I returned. As I seated myself
the PC beeped and the screen showed:

SUBJECT PROCESSED.

ENTER TRIGGER CODE

Below there was a brief list of code phrases. Each was a pair of English
words which were unlikely to come up in random conversation. I chose one
and then the program asked me to choose a 'deactivation code' from a
similar list. When that was done the Gizmo hummed again. I took out a
little book I carry at all times and wrote the phrases down in it. I then
picked up a phone and rang a member of the staff at the University
Clinic. A female member of the staff who had once spent a delightful summer
naked except for a collar and some tackle pulling 'pony carts' around the
estate of an acquaintance of mine. Not that she thought much about that
sort of thing, nowadays. I spoke a few words to her and then hung up.

The PC screen said

PROGRAMMING NOW COMPLETE

F1 to EXIT
F2 to RUN AGAIN

I touched F1 and Ms Mattel blinked, shuddered for a moment and looked
confused.

"I..I'm sorry. What was I saying..."

"Nothing important, Ms Mattel. I'm sure I've got the gist of things."

"Oh, but I haven't told you about..."

"Jade Fondue."

She stopped instantly and said: "How may I serve you?" A slight smile was
on her face and for the first time since she entered the office her body
relaxed from its normal stiff posture.

"Tell me about yourself. Are you married?"

"Oh no." (Good.)

"Any current boyfriends? Or girlfriends?"

"Oh, nothing like that. I've just moved down from Derby. I hardly know
anyone here."  Better and better. A few moments questioning established
that she lived alone, had no children (I once made the error of not
checking on this: an unexpected toddler asking "What are you doing to
Mummy?" has a negative effect on my sexual performance.) and was free of
social commitments.

"Excellent. Now I think you ought to stand up" (she sprang to her feet,
eager to do what I asked) "and take off your clothes for me. Don't you?"

"Oh yes! Yes of course!"

It really was a shame, I thought, that I couldn't keep her like this the
whole time. But in this state she was not only vulnerable to everybody's
suggestions and orders but also not a whole lot of fun to play with. It was
more enjoyable to watch them struggle against the instructions and to
gradually rebuild their personalities to what I wanted.

She stood naked in front of me, uncertain what was to happen next.

"No don't hide yourself. Stand with your hands clasped behind your
neck. That's right. Hold yourself upright. Chest out. Display those lovely
breasts. That's right."

She really was a gorgeous sight. I had perhaps let myself get too used to
the bodies of girls barely out of their teens. Cynthia was....

"How old are you, my dear?"

"Twenty eight."

Ahh, yes. The prime of life. She clearly kept good care of herself. Her
skin had a nice, not too deep tan and her arms and legs were firmly but not
grotesquely muscled.

Her breasts were, as I had speculated, lovely to behold and ended in large,
brown nipples that were erect, perhaps just because of the effects of the
cold air on them. I was delighted to see beneath her upraised arms tufts of
dark brown hair the same colour as that which hung so long and lovely down
her back and stood out from her mons.

I walked around and took her all in. Yes, all in all this looked like a
worthwhile project. I went back to my desk and sat down. My cock was
throbbing and demanding, in its own special way, that I do something about
its desires RIGHT NOW! But I've learned to be more cautious.

"You are very lovely, my dear."

"Thank you." And then a frown crossed her face. "I don't think you ought to
address me in that sexist, patronising way, Professor. It's just the sort
of thing...."

Hmm, a bit of her main personality showing through the conditioning. Still,
it was early days.  And this might be fun...

"It is perfectly alright for me to call you anything I want. Isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. Perfectly alright. I was just..."

"In fact, you like me to call you that."

"I do. I like it."

"In fact every time, I call you, my dear from now on, you will feel
sexually excited and you will picture yourself down on your knees before
me, naked and sucking my cock."

"Really, Professor..."

"Yes, my dear?"

She turned bright red. I mean she blushed ALL OVER HER BODY! It was quite a
sight to see.Her breathing became shorter and she licked her lips.

"Now tell me my...good woman, when was the last time you had sex?"

We spent a good fifteen minutes discussing her sex life, which seemed to
consist of starting relationships with muscular young men in the student
body and then driving them away with her nagging behaviour and insistence
on remodelling their lives in line with her feminist dogma. She frequently
faked orgasm with these men, feeling their frail male egos couldn't cope
with failing to satisfy her. All in all, I decided, a subject crying out
for 'attitude adjustment'.

"And finally, tell me: how often do you masturbate?"

"Oh, I hardly ever do....that."

"Why ever not? You are alone, with no one to satisfy your sexual needs at
the moment?"

"It would be....childish. Adolescent. And any way you shouldn't let your
mere bodily needs dictate your behaviour."

Oh, dear. This would have to change.

"Take your hands down, Cynthia. Now I want you to start playing with your
breasts. That's right. Start to feel them. Squeeze the nipples. Get them
hard."

She obeyed and the lovely flush that she had exibited earlier began to
return to her body.  I rummaged around in the bottom drawer of my desk. I
keep a selection of my favourite works of fiction there, to help in the
training process. DANCER OF GOR? Not till later. THE PASSIVE VOICE? Too
'consensual' and 'politically correct' for my purposes. Ah, yes. A.N.
Roquelaire's BEAUTY books. Just the thing.

"You are enjoying playing with your tits, aren't you, Cynthia?"

"I...I...Yes....I suppose...."

"You are getting very wet in your cunt, aren't you my dear?"

"I...In my...Wet...Yes..."

"You want to put your hand down there and frig yourself don't you? Frig
yourself until you come?"

"I...Yes... I want...."

"Tell me what you want, Cynthia."

"I want to put my hand on my pussy...."

"Your cunt, Cynthia!"

"Yes, yes, I want to put my hand on my cunt and f..f...frig myself until I
come!"

"Good girl! You may now do so." Her right hand went down to her cunt and
began to dance around and about her clitoris, in and out of her labia,
plunging in, one, two, three fingers. A moan escaped her lips and she began
to gasp.

"Oh, yes! Yes! Christ, fuck, oh god, ahh ahh ahh..."

She was a magnificent sight. Her body shook as her orgasm hit her and she
threw back her head and gave off a little scream of pleasure. I watched as
she came down. A light sheen of sweat covered her body and my office was
filled with the scent of her lust. I wanted her very, very badly just
then. But sometimes a pleasure delayed is a pleasure increased.

I ordered her to dress but as she did so told her to leave off her panties
and bra. I told her that from now on she would never wear either and would
not think it strange that she did not.  I took the offending articles and
put them away in my drawer.

Once she was seated I handed her the books I had chosen.

"You will take these with you. You will remember having found them...in a
corridor at the University and taking them with the intention of handing
them in. Instead you will read them every night before you go to sleep. You
will find them very exciting. You will have intense sexual fantasies
centred on the situations in these books. You will picture yourself as
Beauty and me as her Prince. You will masturbate each evening after reading
the books and fantasise about situations in which you are a slave and I am
your Master. You may find that disturbing but you will not want to
stop. And you will mention your fantasies to no-one."

I took out a business card from my little notebook and wrote the date and
time of the appointment I had made at the University Clinic.

"You will go to the University Clinic at the date and time shown on here
and ask to see Dr Merriman. Show her this card. She will know what to
do. You will co-operate with her examination and answer all her questions
freely and without embarrassment. You will believe that this is part of the
regular examination required of all new staff members."

"Do you understand all that? Good. Then it is time for you to leave. Topaz
Timetable."

She shuddered and was again Ms Cynthia Mattel, the dogmatic, determined
Equal Opportunities Officer. Not a trace of memory remained of her time
under control but she would carry out her instructions perfectly.

"Well, if all that is clearly understood, Professor, I'm sure we will have
no problems. I look forward to your reports."

She stood and took up her briefcase and went towards the door. I stepped
neatly in front of her to unlock it.

"And I look forward to working with you, my dear."

As she stepped through the door she stopped as if shot and turned to look
at me, a red flush creeping along under her tan. Then she nearly ran off
down the corridor. Well begun, I thought.  My new project was well begun.

PART TWO

I took no more action on my new plaything for the rest of the week but
plunged back into the task of getting the department up and running for the
new term.  I saw Cynthia from a distance a couple of times. When she saw
me, she went pale and then walked on rapidly, taking a path away from
me. Clearly her nights had been filled with thoughts and fantasies to
disturb her equilibrium.

Then on Friday morning, four days after our first meeting, my phone rang.

"Hillman."

"Professor, it is Dr Merriman." My trusted agent in the University Medical
Centre. She was ringing from where she could be heard. If she had been
alone she would have called me Master.

"Ah, yes. Ann-Louise. How are you? You have something to tell me?"

"Yes, Professor. I ran all the standard tests you require and they all came
back negative. I trust that will be satisfactory." I have my toys tested
for all the common sexually transmitted diseases. Again a lesson learned
from experience.

"Thank you, Ann-Louise. Most satisfactory. Did you check her contraceptive
status?"

"Yes, Professor. The subject has already been fitted with a coil. She is
regular and will have her next period in...twelve days time, by her
reckoning.  She has never been pregnant and shows no signs of any physical
abnormalities."

"Good. As a reward, Ann-Louise, you may serve as my maid tonight."

"Oh." Her voice caught in an eager little gasp. Then she forced herself to
reply in a neutral tone. "That's very kind of you, Professor. I will be
delighted."

"Come around to the servant's entrance at six this evening, then. Until
then."

"Until then, Professor."

I smiled to myself as I hung up the phone and then dug out from the pile of
paperwork a report I had prepared earlier. I then went in search of our
Equal Oppurtunities Officer.

I found her in a tiny office in the Administration Block. The walls were
covered with posters from Government commisions and she sat behind a huge
pile of paperwork trying to concentrate.

When I walked in she looked up and her face drained of blood. She looked as
if she would run away if there were anywhere she could run to.

"Ah, P..Professor."

"Ms Mattell. I've brought the statistics you wanted? For your survey?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you very much indeed."

"Not at all , my dear. Not at all."

At the trigger phrase 'my dear', she turned as red as she had been white a
moment before. Her eyes bulged and she gripped the edge of her desk. I knew
that running through her mind was the image I had planted there: herself
kneeling naked before me, her mouth on my cock.

And running through her body was a simultaneous charge of sexual arousal,
that filled the room with the scent of her desire. A sweet smell indeed.

"Are you alright, Ms  Matell? Is there something wrong?"

"No, ahhh, no nothing is wrong. Thank you, Professor."

"Are you settling in well? Not too many difficulties in your first days
with us? Sleeping alright?"

"Why do you ask that?" She looked at me with a sudden paranoid
fear. Clearly the instructions I had implanted had made her rest
difficult. Good.

"Oh, no reason. I just often find it difficult to sleep in a new place for a 
while."

"Oh, no. Nothing like that."

"Fine, fine. I was wondering, as it is Friday, if you have nothing better
to do this evening if you would like to come and have dinner with me?
Tonight at 7-30?"

"I....I...No, Professor, that would....I'm afraid I couldn't...I have..."

Oh, dear. I had hoped to get through this without having to use the code
phrase. Still....

"Jade Fondue."

The tension flowed out of her body and she smiled up at me, eager to please me.

"How may I serve you?"

I reached behind me to click shut the latch on the door of her little
cubbyhole of an office and then said: "Take off that dress."

Swiftly she lifted the light summery dress she was wearing up and over her
head and then stood before me naked, waiting for further instructions.

"Put your hands behind your head and stand as you did before. Good,
good. Now do not move until I give you permission. Do not speak until I ask
you a direct question."

Instantly she did as I directed and I went over to stand directly in front
of her. As I had instructed she wore no underwear beneath her dress. She
must have given much pleasure to her male colleagues in the past five
days. Perhaps it made her tedious business visits more tolerable for
them. I hoped so.

I stood directly over her her and then said: "Kiss me."

She stood up on her tiptoes and brought her mouth to mine. Her breath was
sweet and I enjoyed the sensation of her body brushing the length of
mine. I pulled her towards me with my left hand and then ran my right hand
down the length of her body. Her nipples were hard little nubs which rasped
against the cotton of my shirt. And when my hand reached her cunt a moan
escaped her lips.

"Your cunt is wet, my dear!" Again she moaned, louder this time "Isn't it?"

"Y...es, yes it is."

"Why is that, I wonder? Answer me!"

"You...when you talk to me...I get these pictures in my head...I get
wet....  down there."

"In your cunt, Cynthia?"

"Yes! Yes! In my cunt...."

"You must never be mealy-mouthed with me, Cynthia. Always use plain
words. No euphemisms. Now what pictures do you get in your head."

"I see myself...kneeling before you with my mouth on your...sex."

"That's just the sort of thing I mean, Cynthia. 'Sex' indeed. The word you
must use is 'cock' or 'prick'. Now what are doing with your mouth."

"Sucking it."

"Sucking what, Cynthia?" I thrust two fingers deep into her wet and waiting
pussy as I asked this and she gasped.

"Ahhh! Your cock! Your prick! I'm sucking your prick!"

"Show me what you see in your mind, Cynthia. Kneel. Now unzip me."

She knelt slightly shakily and then reached up to my flies with hands that
trembled. "Now, now. Don't be nervous, Cynthia. You have nothing to be
afraid of." As I say, I am not a cruel man "Take my cock out and hold it."
She pulled down the zipper and reached inside. My cock was already at
'half-mast' and sprang to greater alertness at the touch, still slightly
cool despite the heat of her pussy, of Cynthia's hands.

"Just hold it for a second, Cynthia. Pull the foreskin back gently, that's
right. Smell the scent of it. It smells good, doesn't it? When you taste it
you will find that my cock tastes very, very good to you. And my come will
taste even better. You will want to taste every drop of it you can
get. Good, good.  Now suck me."

She knelt up slightly to get her mouth to the tip of my, by now,
thouroughly erect cock. Another moan escaped her lips as she ran her tongue
around the edge of the glans and then she opened her mouth fully and
plunged my full length deep into her throat.

I sat back down onto her desk as the sensation overwhelmed me. I would not
need to teach her this art at any rate! Somewhere Cynthia had learned how
to 'deep-throat' as I believe the American expression is. She took me deep
into her mouth and I could feel the tip of my cock butting against the back
of her throat. All the anticipation of the past week waiting for the
'all-clear' on Cynthia built up and in a few short minutes I was
approaching an explosive orgasm. I gasped and then pulled myself together
enough to say:

"Cynthia, reach down and frig yourself with your other hand! That's
good. Very good. Now when you, ahhhh, when you feel me come in your mouth,
you will also, ahhhh, also come. Understood? I'm nearly there....Nearly
there...Here I come!!!"  With a shudder she bobbed her head rapidly to
bring me to my peak. My juices spurted down her throat and she bucked and
writhed as the taste of my come and the motion of her hand at her clitoris
combined with my suggestion, gave her a powerful sexual explosion of her
own.

Afterwards I instructed her to lick my cock clean of every last drop of
come and then resume her clothing. I opened the tiny top window of her
office to clear the air of the scent of lust that filled it and then turned
back to give her further instructions. I was feeling very replete and
already looking forward to the evening. This midday treat would take the
edge off my lust enough for me to make tonight last.

"Now, Cynthia, listen carefully. From now on you will no longer become
sexually excited and picture yourself sucking my cock when you hear me say
the phrase 'my dear'. Instead, whenever I ask you to do something and call
you 'my dear' you will taste my come in your mouth again and immediately
agree to do whatever it was I asked of you. Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes. I understand."

I looked around the office to check for any signs of anything amiss. I
spotted a small, whitish spot on the carpet.

"Cynthia, look here. No, get down on all fours and look closely." Like a
cat she slipped gracefully down out of her chair. "Now what is that?"

"It is a bit of your come. It must have spilt..."

"We can't have that. Lick it up, there's a good girl."

Lovingly she put her tongue out and licked the remains of that spot of
semen off the carpet. When she was done she looked at me for permission and
then seated herself again.

"Topaz Timetable."

Cynthia shook herself and then looked around puzzled.

I didn't give her a moment to think but said: "Please reconsider."

"Umm, err what? Reconsider what, Professor?"

"My invitation to dinner. I want you to reconsider your refusal and say
you'll come, my dear."

"I..." She paused and licked her lips for a moment. "Oh, well if you put it
like that, well certainly I'll come."

"Now that's better. I bet you had nothing at all to do this weekend and
were just shy. Tell me truthfully, my dear, if you had anything planned for
this whole weekend."

"Well, no truthfully, I was planning to spend it at home getting the flat
ready and my things unpacked..."

"Well, then I'll look forward to seeing you at seven thirty then." I went
to the door, surruptiously flicking the catch off it. "Oh and Cynthia..."

"Yes, Professor?"

"I would be pleased if you were to wear something special for me. Please
wear your sexiest dress, my dear."

"Oh, Oh, yes. Of course I will."

"Good, Until tonight then."

And I turned and went off down the corridor, whistling. Behind me, Cynthia
sat, wondering at the taste in her mouth.

PART THREE

I finished work early that evening and went round to the supermarket to
pick up supplies for the weekend. When I got back, I took the car round to
the back entrance of my house and was pleased to see that Ann-Louise's car
was already there.

The house is a big place, bought with the money I acquired from the
judicious use of the Gizmo around London casinos. It's too big for one
person really, if I didn'tt have the help of my 'pets' I'd be unable to
keep it decent. The back garden is huge and not visible from any of my
neighbours' property. Which is one of the reasons I bought this particular
place.

I opened the back door into the kitchen and smiled to myself. Ann-Louise
was already waiting there as she had so many times in the year in which she
was my 'toy'. She was just as I liked her: kneeling with her head to the
floor and her arse in the air, naked and submissive. Her long blonde hair
was spread around her and she had already put on the metal collar that was
the mark of my ownership. I closed the door behind me and waited a moment
before clicking my fingers.

At that she crawled across to where I stood and lovingly, delicately,
licked my dirt stained shoes, kissing my ankles, each in turn. When she had
shown enough submission for my taste, I clicked my fingers again and she
knelt up.

She was lovely, still. Her face had acquired a little more character and a
few more lines since the days when she served me as an undergraduate. But
her body was still firm and her breasts still breath-taking. In a few years
she would be past her best but for now she was a sight to behold.

"Well, Ann-Louise. It has been a long time."

"It has, Master. Thank you for letting me serve you again."

"You should have found another Master after I let you go." I couldn't erase
her submissive personality. After a while the changes go too deep. I could
have erased her memory of my time as her Master. I had done that with some
of the others. But she had been too useful to me. And sometimes I
remembered her...

"There have been one or two, Master. But none of them...Well, and I had to
be careful not to choose anyone too close to the University and my job."

"Indeed. Tonight I'm planning to introduce a new...subject to my
requirements. I shall want your assistance. Will that be a problem?" I
wanted to know. I could alter her attitude with a simple code word but, as
I say I am not a cruel man. I wouldn't want to cause her unnecessary
pain. But she shook her head.

"No, Master. I will be glad to be of service to you in any way I can."

"Good. Go and unload the car and bring the groceries in here. I have dinner
to prepare."

She smiled and sprang to her feet before going out into the back, as she
was, naked and getting the carrier bags.

The next hour or so was busy as Ann-Louise unpacked supplies and I prepared
the meal. When everything was cooking nicely, I went upstairs to bath and
change.  I ordered Ann-Louise to go to the bedroom where she had slept when
she had been y weekend toy and change into a 'French maid' outfit that I
had bought for her all those years ago. It still fit like a charm and she
looked a picture as she brought me my pre-dinner drink. The inbuilt bra
virtually pushed her substantial breasts up and into your face. She still
wore her collar but with her hair down you could not see the lock at the
back: it looked like a fairly normal piece of costume jewellry. I took a
deep sip of the perfectly prepared martini she had brought me and reflected
that this should prove to be a most interesting evening.

"You are clear on your instructions?"

"Yes, Master. I have everything prepared as you instructed."

"Good." 

The doorbell rang.

"That will be my guest. Let her in please, Ann-Louise."

She curtseyed and went to the front door. 

A few moments later Cynthia Matell entered. What a transformation from her
normal, fairly drab and lifeless working garb. She wore a long black dress
that fell from her shoulders down to the floor. The material was sheer and
shimmering and I could see the curve of her waist, breasts and thighs
through it. It hung about her like smoke and her hair floated about her
head like a dark cloud. I went forward and took her hand and, to her
suprise, kissed it in the old- fashioned European way.

"How charming you look, Cynthia. Most lovely."

"I...Ahhh, thank you, Professor. I thought...Well, this is something of an
occasion..." She was justifying to her own mind her peculiar compliance
with my suggestion that she wear 'her sexiest dress.'. Given time she would
convince herself that she had thought of the idea first.

"Oh, now there's no need to be formal. I will call you Cynthia and you must
call me Richard." For now, I added to myself. For now.

"Well, thank you. Richard. You have a lovely place here. Not how I imagined
a Professor would live at all."

"I've been very lucky. Take Ms Matell's bag, Ann-Louise.Will you have a
drink?"  I didn't give her a chance to reply but turned said: "Another
martini, Ann- Louise. Come into the library, Cynthia."

I lead the way into the next room. I lead her to a chair beside the
fireplace.  She seemed a little nervous. As well she might be.

Ann-Louise brought in a fresh drink and put it on the table by Cynthia's
chair, curtseyed and left.

"Your...servant?"

"Ann-Louise? Yes, what about her?"

"Is she...foreign?"

"No, she's English. Why do you ask?"

"It's just I haven't heard her speak."

"I prefer it that way."

"You mean...Is she dumb?"

"No,but I have told her to be quiet and she will be until I give her
permission to speak."

"Oh." Cynthia didn't seem to know what to make of that so she reached for
her drink. It was then that she noticed the small stack of paperback books
I had so carefully arranged on the table by her chair. She turned white and
nearly spilled her drink. The titles were familiar to her. They should be:
she had been reading them and fantasising about them for the past week,
following the instructions I implanted in her during our first session.

"Is there something the matter?" Silence. She took a gulp at her drink and
gasped a little as the gin hit her throat. "Please tell me what is wrong,
my dear."

At that code phrase, forced by the conditioning I had implanted, she
stammered out: "Those,,,Those books on...Are they yours?"

"They are my copies of some books I'm rather fond of. The author is a well-
known American horror novelist writing under a pseudonym. Have you read
them?"

"I...uh...yes." Her voice was very small.

"And did you enjoy them?" She looked down and away. "I find them very
pleasing little fantasies. I collect books in that vein. And not just
books."

She looked up at me at that. There was a little fear in her eyes. More than
a little.

"What did you think of them. Please tell me, my dear."

Compelled she spoke quietly and tonelessly. "I...I found myself...thinking
about them a good deal."

"Yes?"

"I found them very....stimulating."

"In what way?"

"Very stimulating...sexually. I found myself wondering what it would be
like to be... owned the way Beauty was. To have to....serve. To serve...."
she paused and looked at me. "...a man." She reddened and looked down
again. "I thought about that a lot."

"Indeed. And what is wrong with that?"

Her haead snapped up. "It is degrading! Humiliating! To be reduced to the
status of a....a...."

"A servant? A slave?"

"Yes! To want such things, to want to do such things is...disgusting!"

"And yet you tell me, you thought about it."

"I...I...I don't...I would not ever...Not to really..."

"If you say so, Cynthia. If you say so. Ah, I see that our meal is ready."
Ann- Louise was hovering in the door of the library. "Come along."

I lead her out and onto the patio at the back of the house. The evening was
warm and still, the last tail end of an English summer and I had ordered
Ann-Louise to set up the table outside.

I seated Cynthia at the table, positioning her chair with a male-chauvanist
courtesy that she was either too flustered or too scared to comment on. I
poured her some wine and signalled to Ann-Louise to begin serving.

I didn't want to spoil the moment by begining my transformation of her too
soon or spoil her enjoyment of the meal by churning up her stomach with
fear. So I let her settle back and forget our moment in the library. I
chatted about the politics of the University and let her talk about her new
job and her new flat.  The meal was good, if I say so who shouldn't, but
light enough not to make us too stuffed for what was to follow. No point in
overindulging in one sort of pleasure when you can have two.

We were just finishing a blackcurrant sorbet and Ann-Louise was pouring
coffee when I turned the evening back towards the path I had intended.

"Tell me, my dear, those books that you saw in my library, what was it that
so disturbed you about them?"

Under the compulsion of the code phrase she could not avoid help but
answer.

"I...They made me...they gave me...ideas. Thoughts that disturbed me."

"Fantasies?"

"Yes! Look this is really none of your business, Professor..."

"I thought we agreed I was going to be called Richard, for this evening?
Please, my dear, don't be angry."  She gnawed at her lip and took a gulp of
her coffee. "I am a psychologist, after all. I have a natural interest in
anything that causes such high emotion. Tell me, my dear, what is the
nature of these fantasies?"

"They are....sexual in nature."

Damn! After all my delicate work trying to lead her gently to the point of
telling me, she was fighting all the way. I decided to cut things short.

"Ann-Louise, would you fetch the brandy and two glasses please." I let my
her get out of earshot before I said: "Jade Fondue." I don't want my girls
to know the exact nature of their submission to me. I prefer it if they
believe that it is their own idea. Cynthia relaxed and smiled at me.

"How may I serve you?"

"Cynthia, from now on, you will always answer any question I ask you
truthfully and completely. Also you will be perfectly relaxed and unashamed
in my company.  You know that I would never hurt you and that you can tell
me anything at all without fear. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good. Topaz Timetable." I got the release phrase out just in time as
Ann-Louise returned with the brandy. "Now, tell me what sort of fantasies
you have, my dear. Tell me all the details."

She shook her head for a moment as if to clear it. "I...At first I would
imagine myself as the Princess in the Beauty books. Kept naked in front of
the court. Forced to grovel in front of people dressed in exotic fairy-tale
costumes. Being captured by pirates. That sort of thing."

"Yes?"

"And then it changed. I imagined what it would be like to be a slave
today. I thought...Perhaps they would reintroduce slavery for debt, I mean
you can just see our Beloved Government doing something like that can't
you? I thought about falling behind with my new mortgage, perhaps loosing
my job. Sitting at home.  And then they come for me."

"They?" I took a glass of brandy from Ann-Louise and sipped it. I had found
a subject with a vivid imagination. And her political beliefs had given a
unique flavour to her fantasies.

"Two men. Baliffs with a warrant. They show it to me and say they've come
for my 'chattels, goods and person' to pay off the debt. I try to argue,
plead with them but they just laugh. They're...thugs. Rough men."

"I understand. Go on."

"They laugh at me and they tell me to pack my things and get into the back
of their van. I can't fight them. I can't go to the police. The police are
on their side. So I put some things into a small case and they lead me to
the van.  They chain me, by the ankles, while they load up my furniture and
stuff into the van. And then we drive off."

"It's dark in the back of the van and there's no way for me to see out. I
can hear them, though, and they're chatting to each other. Talking about
me, about what's going to happen to me. They make jokes about me. They call
me a 'stuck- up cow'. They wonder if they will get a chance to.... to use
me before I'm sold. That's when it hits home: what's going to happen to
me."

"When we get to the depot they take me into this huge building, a warehouse
I suppose and then they take my bag and make me strip. They have women
guards there, big burly women, and I have to strip in front of them. They
put a collar on me, a horrid cheap plastic thing but I can't possibly take
it off.  They tell me it is also an electronic tag and if I try to run they
will find me by it. I have to have a shower and then a medical
examination. And then the guards take me down to some cells."

She paused. Her face was red and she was breathing heavily.

"Go on, my dear."

"I...The next bit is a little vauge. They teach me how to stand on the
block.  How to pose. I won't do what they want at first. I think they beat
me. That bit I don't think about but I finally do what they want. I....I'm
put up for sale. I'm on a platform, naked and there are men bidding for
me. I can't see them because of the lights. I'm sold and they take me down
from the platform.  I get herded into a waiting room with the other slaves
who have been sold until the money has been handed over and the sale
finalised. They come and unchain me, take me to my new owner. It's...It's
somebody I know. Somebody from the University."

Her head was right down and she stared into her lap.

"Yes?"

"It's you."

"I see. And what happens then?"

"I...I think at first that you've done it to free me, to pay off my debts
but you soon put my mind to rights on that. You have the slavers tie me up
and then you beat me. I...I don't visualise that very clearly. And then you
make me kneel and kiss your feet, lick your shoes clean. Then you put your
own collar on me and lead me to your car. I'm still naked. And you lead me
on a leash across this huge car park. All the people in the car park can
see me. The men stare and the women sniff at me in disapproval. As if I
were nothing, not a human being like themselves. Just an animal. And it's
then I generally come.  For the first time."

Ah, a broad streak of exhibitionism in my new toy. Well, I could never risk
my reputation by making her do it for real. But with the Gizmo I could make
her believe that it was true, that she was a naked, pathetic debt slave
exposed in public for all to view. I could make her believe anything...

Hmm, hold that thought....

"And what is there in this that makes you ashamed?"

"I...I could not possibly...I am a professional woman. Not some man's
property!  It would be betraying everything I believe in. Everything I've
worked for..."

"Come now, lots of women live full professional lives but like their sexual
lives to be in the control of a man. Take Ann-Louise here."

Cynthia blinked and looked at my 'maid' for the first time. "What? I don't
understand."

"Don't you recognise her from the Clinic?"

"The Doctor? Oh, but I...."

"And she is happy to serve in every way. Isn't that so, Ann-Louise?"

She spoke for the first time that evening. "In any way at all, Master. I am
yours to command."

"Clear the dishes, Ann-Louise. Ms Matell and I will come in shortly. The
evening is turning chill."

I watched as Ann-Louise cleared the table and walked into the house. I was
actually watching her lovely rear swaying away from me when I heard Cynthia
say:

"How *can* she? How *dare* she?"

I turned back to see that Ms Matell had become quite red in the face. Her
feminist personality was resurfacing again.

"She has...everything that most women would kill for and she chooses to
spend her time running and scurrying! It's...It's...treason! That's what it
is!  Treason against womankind."

"But if that is how she chooses to spend her time...?"

"It doesn't matter. It shouldn't be allowed!"

I'm not a cruel man, as I've said. But there are limits.

"Jade Fondue."

"How may I serve you?"

"Stand up and take off your dress." She obeyed and I took a long sip of my
brandy. When she stood naked in front of me I ordered her to discard her
stocking, shoes and jewellry. Then I began her reconstruction.

"Cynthia, kneel there in front of me. Now, then Cynthia, you will listen to
me and believe what I tell you."

"It is true, as you said, that the government has reintroduced slavery for
debt. Although you never hear it spoken of, nor mentioned in broadcasting
or the papers, you know, everybody knows this to be true."

"And it is also true that you got into debt and were enslaved. I have
bought you and I now own you totally. You have no rights and I can do what
I like with you. Look down at you right thigh." She did so. "You can see
quite clearly that you are marked with a tatoo there. A large capital
letter S: S for Slave. Do you see it, Cynthia?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"If anyone were to see that, they would know instantly that you were
somebody's property. Now feel your left buttock. You can feel a slight bump
there can't you? An slight lump under the skin?"

"Yes, yes. I can."

"That is where they injected the tag. There is a minaturised transponder
there which gives off a radio identification beacon. If you were to try to
run away then you could be found anywhere in the world. You have no choice
but to live the life of a Slave. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Don't despair. You know that I am not a cruel man and will not hurt you or
harm you as long as you do what I ask. I have even told you that no-one in
the University knows that you have been enslaved. You will return to your
job on Monday and live your life normally except when I want you to do
something.  Then you must obey instantly for fear I tell everyone and
expose you to the world as a mere Slave."

"You will never mention Slavery to anyone, you will never mention our
relationship to anyone. But you will know and I will know that you are in
my power absolutely and must obey me in all things."

"One last thing, Cynthia. You will find that, despite what you believe, you
enjoy being a slave. Being ordered to do things that are submissive or even
humiliating will excite you sexually and fulfill you spiritually. You will,
perhaps to your horror at first, but eventually to your joy, discover that
you enjoy being owned by men. You will come to love being my Slave and look
forward to serving me."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I understand."

"Topaz Timetable."

She shook herself and looked around in puzzlement for a moment and then
tried to cover herself up, hands going to her breasts and pussy.

"Stop that!" She flinched at the sound of my voice.

"Please, Professor,...Richard..."

"No! From now on you call me Master when we are alone. Is that clear?"

"Yes. Yes, Master." She bowed her head.

"Hands to your sides, then. Head up. Hmm, yes, I made a good purchase, I
think.  Come here, Slave. No! On all fours. Crawl! Yes, crawl here and kiss
my feet."

I think I saw, as she did so, tears forming in her eyes. That was
sweet. I'm not a cruel man. But such moments are sweet.



[END]

Brian C. Ladd, Curator, Mindnumbing Archive
MNA is *not* affiliated with the University of North Carolina; it is a
personal project which the University will neither acknowledge nor condone.