Chris’ Story

I was sitting by myself in the outdoor patio to a coffee shop one afternoon.  Melissa and Sheila, my resident nymphets, were visiting Melissa’s parents, who had accepted Melissa’s lesbian lifestyle a long time ago.  I saw no need to reveal to them that their daughter was now the bisexual slave of a radiation-mutated mind controller, as was her partner, so I was a bachelor for a few days.  Not that I couldn’t change that if I had wanted, but sometimes it was nice to be celibate for a while.  At least that was what I was thinking until a young big beautiful woman walked onto the patio, sat, and lit up a long white super-slim cigarette.  I silently cursed Giselle and Marianne for giving me their fetish, and watched her take her first drag.  She had a big-boned body, wide hips, big breasts, curly golden-blonde hair, and she was definitely cute.  Smartly, professionally dressed, not extremely fat, but big, and smoking a Capri 120, she had definitely piqued my interest.

About halfway through her cigarette, she raised her head from her book, turned her head, and looked over at me, as if she had sensed that I was looking at her as a sex object.  Which I was.  She was not amused by my attention, and gave me that “fuck off” look.  However, she had made eye contact with me, which let me take up residence in her mind, and any question I had about what I was going to do vanished.  So much for temporary bachelorhood.  I knew the what, but the how… there were so many possibilities.  I could have just grabbed her thoughts and shaped them the way I wanted.  I could have had her begging me to take her in public.  I could have made her orgasm very obviously and very loudly on the spot.  I could have quietly turned her into a mindless zombie; only able to obey my commands… what the hell, I had a few days of solitude.  I would play with this one for a while.

I waited for her to finish her cigarette, her thoughts indicating that she was going to get up and leave, with my obvious interest having altered her original plans.  I was at her side as soon as she went to crush the cigarette out, introducing myself with a soft, “Hello.”  I could feel her anger flare as she snapped her head around to make a nasty retort, but I sprayed it with mental fire extinguisher, and I enjoyed her momentary puzzlement at not doing what she thought she was going to do.  “May I sit with you for awhile?”

“No” rang in her head, but I held the bell, and, after a pause, she said, “Yes.”

“I’m David.”

“Chris,” she tentatively replied, feeling some obligation to a minimum of politeness, even though she was not happy about conversing with me.  The question of “why am I spending my time with him,” ran through her mind, but I gave it nowhere to land and take root.

“I saw you, and I thought to myself, now there’s a pretty woman.”  The flattery, if somewhat bold, charmed Chris despite herself, and the distraction allowed my hold on her mind to become a little more firm.  “So, I’d like to know if you would like to have dinner with me, on me, tonight.  No strings attached,” I pleasantly said as guilelessly as I could.  Except for the ones I have attached to your mind, I thought.  “Would you please give me your address so I can pick you up at six-thirty tonight?”

Chris stuttered, looking for a way out, but I had closed all of the doors to her exit strategy, while keeping a lid on her fear.  “I’m… I’m sorry… but I have … plans… for tonight,” she managed, although she was still unable to say no outright.  I asked her what time those plans started, and made her feel that she needed to be honest with me.  I also let her think that she had found an exit strategy.  “Well… actually… not until about ten or so.  So I couldn’t spend a long time over dinner.  I have to get ready and all.”  I wasn’t inclined to find out what she had planned, or who she had it planned with, because our conversation had gained some curious looks from the college kids at the next table who were on the web.  I had time on my side, so I could find out more at my leisure.

“That’s all right,” I replied, “at least that way you know I won’t be able to do anything—ungentlemanly.  Dinner and nothing else.”  Well, that was a lie, but she had no way of knowing, and I wasn’t allowing her to be suspicious.  Her ten o’clock would have to wait, whoever he was.  And he would be waiting a long time.  “What do you say?  I’ll make it someplace good.”

She wanted to say no in the worst way, but I had found her guilt switch, and turned it on to full.  With the additional weight of her conscience nagging her, Chris acquiesced.  She did not want to hurt my feelings because she thought I had been such a gentleman to this point about everything (which was largely an illusion I had created), but she was also flattered (which wasn’t.)  “All right, you can take me to dinner, but I really do need to make my appointment tonight.”  She gave me her address while still under the compunction to be honest and transparent with me.  I walked away, taking a little bit of perverse joy at her bewilderment over what had just happened as I released her thoughts to be completely her own.  Did I really agree to go to dinner with that guy?  And why did I give him my real address?

***

When I arrived at her apartment, she was wearing the same outfit as earlier, although she was freshly made-up.  We arrived at Masterson’s, and Chris commented that it was a little more—formal than she was expecting, although what she was thinking was that I was spending money so that she would feel obligated to put out.  She had already started to fortify her will on this so that the guilt switch wouldn’t work.  I really didn’t care about that because I had her firmly in my grasp and I could make her do anything I wanted.  Anything at all.  She was on edge, though, making it difficult for me to casually leaf through her mind as I had originally planned and subtly turn her thoughts.  Since the whole point was to avoid turning her into a zombie slave, I needed to set her more at ease.  “I don’t usually do this… David,” she began.

“That’s all right, Chris.  I don’t know why you did, but I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t extremely pleased.  As I said earlier, I find you very attractive.”

She blushed, but the flattery didn’t have as much effect a second time.  “I don’t know what came over me,” she said, “I’m not that type of girl.  But you seem like a nice enough guy, you got me here without any detours, and I’m going to be taking a taxi from here to my—other engagement, so I guess I’m OK.”

I told her that I was harmless at this point, and that boldly approaching a woman in a coffee shop was not something I’d ever done before, both of which were true.  “But there was something about you that made me want to… at least try.”

She smiled, genuinely flattered this time, becoming more at ease with the situation.  But her ten o’clock time limit still held firm in her mind, and whatever was going to happen was very well hidden in her thoughts.  Chris was very careful to maintain a certain distance, and there wasn’t much I could do to change that, short of commanding her outright.  Given my inability to manipulate her gently, I did the only thing I could: had a normal dinner with a charming young lady.  She was a real estate agent, having started at the company as a secretary when she was a young girl of twenty, and had learned the ropes to become one of their top agents in seven years.  It was easy to tell why; she was disarmingly charming, friendly and the sense of distance I could pick up from her mind did not come across in any way that a normal person could detect.  It was a leisurely dinner, but at about nine, even though Chris’ demeanor did not change, her appointment began to grow in importance in her mind, but I could not detect exactly what was going to happen at ten: it was as if she had locked it away somewhere that even she could not get to.  About the only thing I could pick up was a very strong sense of relief at the fact that she would soon be free of me.  What was unusual was that it wasn’t motivated by fear—I hadn’t sensed any fear of me since shortly after we’d arrived at the restaurant.  I could tell that I had managed to be charming and gentlemanly enough that Chris was accepting everything at face value without any tampering on my part.  If she had been pressed about it later, she would even have admitted to her friends that she’d had a nice time.  So why was she so relieved?  I excused myself to see if she was going to call someone and listen in on it through her mind, only to be disappointed.  Chris merely checked her watch and fidgeted a little, debating internally over whether she should ask for the check, pay, and leave without waiting for me to return.  She rejected that alternative on her own—it was clear that she liked me enough on some level that she felt obligated to end the evening with class.

Thoroughly curious now, I returned to the table and made a show of checking the time.  ‘It’s after nine,” I began.  “Guess it’s time for our dinner date to end—unless you’d like to continue this.  I am having a pleasant time.”  I waited to see if the door to what she had planned would open and give a glimpse of what her plans really were.

“No, David, I’m sorry, but I really do have to leave you.”  Her thoughts on what was to come were still frustratingly non-existent.  She didn’t want to tell me any more than that, but now I wasn’t sure if she knew what she was going to be doing after ten p.m.  Maybe I could force it out of her, but we were in a very public place, and the self-challenge was seduction, not outright enslavement, so I asked Chris if I could give her a ride to her next engagement.  “Well,” Chris sighed, her resistance worn down by my politeness and lack of aggression, “it’s a—private—party.”  There was something going on at ten p.m., but I was too busy checking to see if she was lying to have been able to see anything other than a momentary flash of light from a very dark corner of her mind.  “I couldn’t even bring my best friend with me,” she continued.  “So thank you, but no,” Chris said, finishing with an apology.  “I wouldn’t feel right about making you play chauffeur and driving me all the way there when I know beforehand that I can’t get you in.”

I accepted that, outwardly thanking her for being so honest and nice, while being puzzled as all hell about what was under such a veil that even she couldn’t access it right now.  As we stepped outside, I hailed her taxi.  She gave me a lady’s handshake and a smile before climbing in, heading for her mystery appointment.  However, her female taxi driver was my newest complete thrall and so I would know, via her thoughts, exactly where Chris was going.  I was shocked to find out that Chris asked the driver to take her home; something wasn’t adding up here.  She told me that she had a private party to go to, and I knew that the compulsion to tell me the truth was still very strong.  I got in my car and drove to her apartment—her car was there, and so was she.

Chris stepped out of the door a few minutes later, and when she saw me, surprise turned into shock and then to fear.  She had thoughts about stalkers.  I held up my hand and said, “Relax,” while releasing a large amount of endorphins in her brain.  Her rising panic temporarily quelled, I looked at her; she’d touched up her makeup again, but she’d also changed into something more casual, more sexy and… no underpants?  Her thoughts had also changed: sex was on her mind, showing itself as a faint, steady glow coming from that dark area I’d been unable to see earlier.  This was now beyond a curiosity.  “You look nice.  Where are you going?”

“I—I—I’m waiting for—a taxi,” she stammered, her fear slick in my loose mental touch.

“I think you want to cancel that taxi, and ride with me to my house,” I pleasantly said, now intrigued enough that my self-challenge went down the tubes, and I increased my hold on her.

“I—I don’t—I…”  Her voice trailed off as Chris struggled mightily against my control aided by the adrenalin rush of her fear.  “Yes,” she finally said, her voice soft and distant.  They always lose.  She made the phone call as soon as we had climbed into my car and spent the ride desperately trying to put the glow in her head out, removing all thoughts of sex.  Once again I was surprised, because she couldn’t control it.  By the time we got home, the glow was a little stronger, and Chris was completely focused her now-frantic efforts.  The question of what she was doing with a total stranger and why she was about to walk into his home didn’t even register anywhere in her thoughts.

I stopped in the kitchen and picked up a bottle of champagne and two glasses before leading her into the body of the house.  Chris was stunned by the size and elegance of my home, which temporarily distracted her from her internal struggle.  “You—live—here?”  I nodded, and directed her upstairs to the master bedroom.  Her fear suddenly surged, but her panicked thoughts were not only of what I was going to do with her, but of what she might happily allow me to do as well.

Damned odd, I thought.  Chris was turning out to be more interesting than I had originally thought.  I bade her to sit in one of the plush chairs (she liked the way it felt despite herself) and poured her a glass of champagne, while she eyed the bed with near-panic.  “So, Chris, tell me about your—party.  Where were you going dressed all sexy?”  I asked while giving her no choice but to tell me the truth.  Let’s see if that glow means anything…

“I—I was—I was going to the Esquire Theater.”  It was a battle, but she finally confessed.  Like I said, they always lose.  The Esquire was an adult theater, the last of its kind in the city.  “There was a-a-a….”  Chris didn’t want to say it, and the battle to keep whatever it was concealed against my irresistible will was raising her blood pressure.  I commanded her to tell me to keep her from hurting herself, still more curious than anything.  “…A—gloryhole party—for the regulars—tonight,” she exhaled.  Shame, guilt, and embarrassment flooded her thoughts at the admission.

“And I take it you’re one of the regulars?”  She barely acknowledged it, refusing to meet my eyes.  Now that’s one I haven’t seen before.  Interesting…  “Chris, why do you go to gloryholes?”  Her head was still hung, and she didn’t answer me.  While she was compelled to tell me the truth, she didn’t have to answer.  I very carefully began to shrink the breach in her mind spewing all the negative emotions.  She needed them; it was a part of her normal self to dislike, no, disavow, her sexual inclination and hunger.  Seal it off, even temporarily, and she could lose access to it for good.  The one thing I held myself to was to leave my victims with no unintended consequences.  In this case, Chris could wind up losing any sexual restraint in all situations, rendering her an indiscreet nymphomaniac.  There was even a possibility that the attempt to reconcile her heretofore strictly segregated sexual self with her normal self could literally drive her insane.  I calmly waited for the flood of negative stuff in her head to turn into a quiet, but steady, creek, and for the related panic to subside enough so I could regain some control without hurting her in the short- or long-term.  I asked her again, softly, gently.

“Because,” she paused to swallow loudly.  This was going to be a painful admission for her.  “I love feeling the lust.  The sexual hunger.  And I can believe that it’s all for me, because it’s just me and that cock in the room.”  Quite unintentionally, her voice had acquired some husk with the words, “just me and that cock in the room,” and I got a feeling that there was more she wasn’t saying.  I asked Chris what else there was.  The shy, ashamed voice returned and replied, “Because at the end, I know it’s over, and it—it doesn’t feel like a rejection.  I’m in control of the situation, I know when it ends and how it ends and I make it happen.”

I could see where she might have had some negative experiences with guys because of her size.  But prying into that could take a lot of time and energy to little effect.  Chris looked so vulnerable, so wounded, sitting there full of shame and guilt, but there was a glimpse of a sexual wildcat lurking just beneath the surface of all that.  However, her view of her role in sex and her sense of undesirability was something I could fix much more easily.  And have a lot of fun while doing it.  “Take your clothes off, Chris.  I want to see your beautiful body.”  She mouthed the word, “No,” even as her hands went to work.  She stopped, her face bright red, with her bra remaining.  “All of it.”  Her hands did my bidding and Chris was too ashamed of her nakedness to even notice that she’d been controlled.  “Now I’m going to do something for you, Chris,” I growled with an edge of lust, “I’m going to let you see how your body affects me, how you affect me.”  She gaped at my body, my cock only in the earliest stages of inflation.

“I want you to take yourself back to your home,” I began, laying a clear path to her memories and enhancing them, making it easy for her to narrate without active thought, “and you’re getting into the cab to go to the Esquire.  Tell me what’s happening in your mind, in your thoughts.  Let’s start with, why do you take a taxi when you can just as easily drive?”

“I like… to get myself ready… for the night,” she began, her voice soft and far away.  “I hide my hand under my throw and masturbate gently in the back seat… just enough to get me a little wet.”

“Show me how you do it.  Show me what you’re doing and feeling while you tell me,” I whispered, driving my will into her.

“No,” Chris gasped, fighting it.  “Please…”

Yes, my beautiful, sexy Chris,” I urged in a guttural whisper.  She complied, her eyes quickly becoming faraway.  I watched her masturbate lightly, almost absent-mindedly, for a couple of minutes; she wasn’t kidding about just enough to get herself ready.  “Tell me what happens next, when you get there.”

“I… I check in with the usher… he knows me… and then I go into the theater to see how many guys are there.  Then I give the usher five dollars and let him touch… play with… my pussy… in the back row, until I’m good n’wet.”  I saw the flush begin to blossom across the top of her chest as she gasped.  “Then he gives me a key to the ladies’ bathroom.”  Chris’ leisurely masturbation became more purposeful.

“And what do you do in the ladies’ bathroom, Chris?”

“I take off my clothes… and get ready for the night.  I put my throw on the floor, take out my lube, and I wait—I wait for that first cock of the night.”  The dim glow in her head suddenly flared as if someone had opened a partially closed door facing west on a bright, cloudless, summer afternoon.  “The first cock,” she said, her voice becoming louder and throatier.  “I love that first cock of the night.  Big, small, it doesn’t matter.  I make it hard.  I suck it, lick it, stroke it, and it gets hard for me.”  Her sexual self had emerged; I could see it in her eyes, no longer shy and half-closed, but now open and alight.

She continued her narration.  “It gets nice and hard and I hear him moan on the other side of the wall and I suck and stroke and lick and if it gets big enough I turn around and I fuck it and he moans louder and the cock I made hard is in my cunt and I’m rocking back and forth making it harder and I’m wetter and it gets bigger and it starts moving inside me and it moves faster inside me and I rock and make it real big the cock for me and then it jerks and I feel that hot sticky cum running down my legs and I made him cum and cum and it lands on my throw and runs down my legs and.. and…  AUUGGGGHHHHH!”  Chris’ body twisted in the chair, her free hand flailing for a moment before joining her other one in its frantic masturbation.  Her eyes rolled back once before squeezing shut and her mouth opened again without making any noise until she issued a very high-pitched squeak, followed by a long, drawn-out, throaty, groan in that feminine alto only found during the instant before a powerful orgasm.

Ohhhhhhh… FUCK!” she shouted, her head snapping back and forth.  Her left hand flew to her right breast and mashed it while her right pressed forcefully on her clit.  Chris’ eyes opened and rolled upwards again as her head lolled back, her ass lifted from the chair and thrust sharply in time with a few high-pitched squeaks before she collapsed back into the chair, her body drained of all energy, arms and legs limp, chest heaving, and her eyes open, but staring into a mural of shifting, beautiful colors.

It was, without a doubt, the biggest, most spectacular, self-induced orgasm I had ever seen.  I hadn’t done a thing to her since she’d started her monologue about the first cock of the night, except to take a brief peek at what she was seeing as she lay there afterwards.  I looked down at myself: I was rock-hard.  I took one look at the still-recovering Chris, and decided I would make up for cutting her afterglow short at another time.  “Chris,” I firmly said, seizing command of her brain, “look at me.  Sit up and look at me.  First, I want you to look at my cock.  This is the cock that is hard for you.  This is your first cock of the night.”  The almost-painfully bright glow in her mind came back in seconds, and her eyes were glazed and hungry, focused solely on my cock.

“This time, there’s no wall, you can see me, and I can see you,” I continued.  The fire started to go out of Chris’ eyes and the glow dimmed.  “But the first cock of the night is still hard, still ready for you.  You’ve made it hard because I watched you and you are hot.  I want you, Chris.  Not just your mouth and your pussy.  Me and you.  All of us, together.  Watch me.  Want me, not just my cock.”

Chris’ mouth parted and her tongue peeked out as she leaned forward in the chair.  I walked across the room, and she reached eagerly for my cock.  Her hand was soft and warm as she began stroking, and I moaned.  Chris leaned forward and began to bob her head along half my cock.  “No wall, Chris.  You have all of me.  All of my desire.”  She hesitated with her arms quivering, reaching for my cock, and then me, but unable to touch either.  She chose that moment to look into my face, and what she saw broke the stalemate.  The light flared into full brilliance again, Chris wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me to her, sending my cock all the way to the back of her mouth.  She gasped, drooling, and looked at me with need.  Then she began to work her mouth along my rigid length, licking, sucking and going deeper, and deeper, finally taking me into her throat.  She pulled back and repeated the action, giving me a lustful, mischievous stare as she released my cock to the air.

I pulled away from her and pushed her back into the chair.  Getting on my knees, I pushed her legs apart, focused on her face.  She looked at me with hopeful wonder as I positioned myself at her entrance, feeling the heat and moisture emanating from her.  The chair allowed me to position any woman for sex easily, and with a practiced ease, while I was still looking into her eyes, Chris became another in a long succession of chaired women.  She moaned again as the head of my cock passed her outer lips, her eyes rolling.  I thrust slowly, leisurely, drawing blissful sighs from her with every motion.  Her eyes never left mine.  Chris whispered, “Fuck me, David.”

***

Chris lay on her back, legs lifted high, whimpering, trying to reach me as I fucked her ass with deliberation.  It was now two in the morning, and her gloryhole party had long since been forgotten.  Chris had been one long, extended orgasm, with her biggest explosions answering mine: I’d cum twice already, and her asshole was going to be the recipient of number three.  Her face contorted yet again, eyes rolled, mouth in an “O”, and then… “AAAUUUGGGHHH!”  As soon as she relaxed enough for me to move, I started to fuck her ass with abandon, and the room was filled with my loud panting, and Chris’ returning cries of, “Ohh—fuckme—ohhhhh—fuckme!”  I felt the tingle and I regained enough control to whisper her name.  She focused on my face again, and I linked us; she could feel the tingle triggering the contraction deep within, and her eyes went wide in shock.  The burn shot through me in the next instant and into her.  I shouted my final orgasm to the room, but Chris wailed, and wailed and wailed until she finally melted into the chair, unconscious.

***

I woke up first the next morning, and watched her sleep, beautiful, still lightly flushed, and looking at peace, until she finally stirred around nine a.m.  “You can stay as long as you like, Chris.”

She blinked, sleepily at first, and then suddenly sat up, unconcerned about her nakedness.  “What did you do to me?”

“I made you hot and then I made you cum until you passed out.”

“No, you were in my head!” she cried.  “I mean, I felt you cum—both on the inside and outside of me!  “What are you?”

“I’m the man who recognized your sexual animal, and I’m the man—” I grabbed her hand, and simultaneously tapped the pleasure centers in her brain, making her gasp and shudder.  “—who is going to teach you how to tame it so it serves you, and you do not serve it.”  I looked into her eyes.  “And so does it matter what I am, Chris?”

She panted, “Does it mean that you’re going to fuck me like you did last night?”

I leaned to her ear and whispered, “Over and over and over again.”

Chris bolted from the bed, visibly excited.  “I gotta pee first.”  When she came back, she climbed onto the bed and reclined sultrily.  “Am I as hot in the daylight as I am at night in the dark?”  I looked down and she followed my eyes.  Her answer was growing obvious.  “You really think I’m sexy, don’t you?” she asked rhetorically, resettling herself on the bed to accept me once again, eyes aglow, body flushed, legs spread and inviting.  “Ohhhhhh,” she happily sighed, her eyes rolling up into her head yet again.  ‘I think I’m in loooooove…”

Chris moved beneath me, perfectly matching every thrust I made with a counter of her own.  “Do the head thing… let me feel what—OH!”  I partially granted her wish, allowing her to feel my physical and mental desire for her.  “Ohhh… myyyy… god… that’s—all for me?” she whispered in awe.  I smiled and whispered back the answer she already knew.  She pulled at my ass, urging me deeper, her beautiful eyes alight with delight and joy.  “I love the feel of a cock cumming inside me, David.”  I started thrusting harder and faster at her to grant her wish, and when I screamed, I knew that I was done for a while.  Chris had worn me out.

After a leisurely lunch, I finally had to shut myself off from Chris’ mind to avoid her intensely lustful thoughts.  It was my turn to be flattered, but I was completely out of sexual energy.  Not even the sight of her reclined fetchingly in the comfy chair gracefully smoking a Capri 120 raised so much as a stir.  She looked at me and then asked me the question that had been on her mind since lunch.  “So…  David.  What about all… this?  I figure that this place is worth a couple million.  And who else lives here—I saw the other bedroom with girl stuff in it.  No sign of a job, no nothing.”  She held up her hand.  “I’m a real estate agent.  I notice these things.  It’s my job.”

“Fair enough,” I said.  “I’m going to tell you the truth outright because I think you are the second woman I’ve ever met who can handle it.  I can control women’s minds from the inside.  It’s a side effect of an accident many years ago involving radioactive isotopes.”  Chris sat, looking at me with interest, and no sign that she thought I was a fruitcake.  ‘The house is a parting gift from one of the women I’ve controlled in the past.  It was freely given to me by her, and she was the other woman who knew the truth about me.  I was, and still am, very flattered that she held me in such high esteem.  I did not control her into doing this in any way.”

“I can understand how she felt after just one night with you,” Chris interjected.  “How long was she with you?”

“Six years,” I answered after allowing myself a brief series of happy Jodie memories.  “To answer your second question, I currently live with two young women who are out of town, my own little harem, and I also have a female driver who is—not usually one of my toys.  Finally, I make my living money from investments, and I do very well.”

“So, did you mind control me?”  I couldn’t find any sign of hysteria or forced calm in her head.  She was very good at hiding things from herself, though. 

“I… pushed you in certain ways,” I admitted.  “Outright control, no.”

Chris nodded thoughtfully, and waited a few moments before saying anything again.  I sensed the fear rise in her as she asked, “Soooo… am I good enough to be in your harem?  Can I call you—‘master’?”  She was afraid that I would answer no, that I would not take her, and she desperately wanted to be mine.  “Willingly or unwillingly.  If you need to control me, you can.”  There was a hesitation.  “Can you?”

“I can.  And yes, you are good enough to be a member of my harem, although I must admit, you are the first to ask.  Ever.”  Her face began to break into a smile, but I held up my hand.  “My harem girls are subject to my will and perform for my amusement on occasion.  Are you bisexual?”

The question seemed to startle her, but she recovered, and her thought was, “either I tell him the truth, or he’ll just read my mind.”  Chris swallowed loudly and bravely replied, “No.  I’ve never even thought about it.”  After another pause, she added, “I’ve never even really found women attractive.”

“You’ll learn,” I replied.  I pulled on the strings attached to the pleasure centers in her brain, gently at first, but with increasing force.

Her eyes went wide, and then her body began to move as the flush rose again.  Chris moaned in heat, and she closed her eyes as she surrendered to the feelings.  “Ohhhhh… yes…”  She gasped as the sensation became more intense.  Her eyes opened and Chris looked at me purposefully, in complete control of herself.  “Yes—master.”


This story copyright © 2008, The Flying Pen


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