The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations in which it is

legal. If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read. This is a copyrighted work. Reposting or

any other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder,

except may by posted as part of a review or posted to free-access, noncommercial archive sights.

Copyright 1999 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please! Give me your comments.

Dear Reader, This is a mind control (MC) story and non consensual (NC). There is no violence

and relatively little sex. The story idea came from a reviewer's comments on a MC story posted

in Simon bar Sinister's late, lamented, mcstories site. Enjoy. E.Z.

 

CATHY'S SENTENCE

James Warrington Thompson, multimillionaire and captain of industry, sweated as he sat behind

the mahogany desk in his elegant office and contemplated the events of the last two days. He

awaited the arrival of the person he hoped would save him. When his secretary announced the

visitor, Thompson fought to control himself. His hand shook when he extended it in greeting.

"Mr. Thompson, I'm Phillip Zim," the visitor said. His voice was well modulated and polite.

"I'm glad you could come on such short notice, Mr. Zim. Please have a seat."

"Thank you," Zim answered as he sat in the large, high-backed leather chair in front of the desk.

"Have you talked with Hermann Weller today?"

"Yes. I visited with Hermann again. He assures me I'll be pleased with your services. I'd no

idea his wife was one of your subjects."

"Mrs. Weller's a delightful woman, Mr. Thompson. That's to be expected. All our subjects are

as delightful as she. All our clients are as satisfied as Mr. Weller. We perform first class

services and we guarantee the results."

"I first heard about your company from Hermann two days ago. I know nothing about you. My

normal investigative procedures didn't even reveal your name."

Zim grinned knowingly. "In our profession, it doesn't pay to advertise. We've been in business

forty years and we operate worldwide."

"Worldwide? I had no idea you were so big," Thompson replied.

"There's quite a demand for us," Zim said. "We offer two basic services, Mr. Thompson. The

majority are engagements like yours. The client has identified a specific subject. We contract to

acquire and mold her to his specifications, including modifications."

"Modifications?"

"Yes. Breast enhancement, hair coloring, rhinoplasty, liposuction, that sort of thing. Lip

enhancement is rapidly gaining in popularity with the new surgical techniques which have been

developed."

"Are most of your subjects modified?"

"All subjects have some physical modification. Our basic program hones the subjects to their

best natural appearance using diet and exercise. The property is instilled with a strong desire to

maintain a perfect shape after her return to you. She will continue the diet and exercise program

without instruction or intervention on your part."

"All hard bodies?" Thompson said with a grin.

"Predominantly. We offer the Victorian option. With that option, the subject is programmed for

little to moderate exercise. Rather, she controls her shape primarily by diet. She'll have a soft,

voluptuous feel. Part of this option is corset training, which gives the property a narrow, wasp

waist, emphasizing an hourglass figure. These subjects are lush rather than hard."

"Simply amazing," Thompson said. "May I ask how the training's done, Mr. Zim?"

"That's proprietary information. However, part of the secret of our success is evaluation of

subject's personality. We might recommend the direction her appearance should take, or

management of her after her return."

"I don't understand," Mr. Thompson replied. "I thought she'd be whatever I wanted."

"She will. Have no doubt about it, our training provides perfect control. However, if we can

meld features of her natural personality into the final characteristics you desire, the results are

much better. In all honesty, Mr. Thompson, the results do vary. Melding her existing personality

with the desired one creates a much happier and more positive subject. There's no negativity in

her, no part of her fighting to resist.

But - if we can't meld the two, we imprison the existing personality within her mind. The new

personality we create controls her inwardly and outwardly. In that circumstance, the existence of

the old personality within can cause conflict and, sometimes, depression. I wouldn't be overly

concerned. We believe this exists in less than three per cent of our subjects."

Zim stopped. He could see the confusion on Thompson's face. He waited until Thompson

looked at him again.

"We have one other option, although we normally try to dissuade our clients from selecting it,"

Zim continued.

"What is it?"

"We can destroy her inhibitions. The subject becomes a sex machine. She'll be a stereotypical

slut."

Thompson laughed. "Why don't you recommend that? Isn't it what most men want?"

"Not really. Most of our customers want a woman who's wildly sexual with them, but them

alone. They want love, comfort and companionship much more than they want sex. They want

someone acceptable in any social situation, someone to show off to their friends. This option I'm

referring to produces a true and complete slut."

Zim grimaced remembering a distasteful event.

"In one instance," he said, "we processed a subject for a client who had requested this option. He

returned her to us in ten days. During that time, she seduced thirty-four men, including three of

his business partners and the entire crew who maintained his landscaping. We disposed of her to

someone else."

"Good lord," Mr. Thompson said. "Who would want such a woman?"

"They make excellent call girls or corporate whores," Zim replied with a smile.

"What other services do you provide?"

"We operate a training ranch in a South American country where we inventory about three

hundred subjects. They're selected for their beauty and intelligence. We acquire them around

the world and train them there. Ages of the subjects range from ten to nineteen. It's easier to

mold the personalities most often desired when one begins early and has time. We sell them

when they're ready. Of course, the subjects are virgins when they begin their new lives."

"A beautiful, virgin sex slave. It sounds like a fantasy," Thompson said with a deprecating

laugh.

"It's a fantasy many men are living, Mr. Thompson. Now, I need some information."

"Don't you want to hear why I'm doing this?" Thompson asked.

"That's your business and we don't inquire. To us, it makes no difference. The results are the

same. May I ask some questions?"

James Thompson shifted in his chair to stare into space. Phillip Zim waited patiently as the clock

on the wall ticked away the minutes.

"Go ahead," Thompson said wearily.

"Name?"

"Name. Oh. After talking to Hermann, I believe there'll be two of them."

"Two? Why?"

"They're sisters. Their parents are dead and they have no other family. If both are taken, there'd

be no family members to question the changes in them."

"Wise decision, Mr. Thompson. Let me tell you about another service we provide. If you choose

to have us mold both of them, we offer a reduced rate for the second subject. Also, any subject

custom trained by us can be resold if you desire. Sales proceeds, less our standard commission,

is remitted to you or you may have credit against a new purchase. You might keep one for

yourself and sell the other."

"No. Not just yet."

"The service is always available. To continue, what's the name of the primary subject?"

"Mary Catherine O'Brian. She's called Cathy."

"Age?"

"Twenty-five."

"Physical description?"

Thompson answered. Zim continued his questioning, recording the answers in his laptop

computer.

"Good," Zim said, the questionnaire on Cathy complete. "Let's talk about her sister."

"I don't know a lot about her. Her name's Christine. She's about twenty and goes to UCLA. I

have her address and a snapshot."

"That'll have to do, I suppose," Zim said. "Shall we discuss the cover story to explain their

disappearance?"

"Cathy has few friends in spite of her intelligence and talents. She's a loner. She's already

announced she's resigning, moving to Paris, and taking Chrissy with her."

"Good. That'll explain their disappearence. When they return, there shouldn't be any problem.

They'll be programmed to support any reason we wish for their return. May I borrow your

phone?"

"Certainly."

Thompson watched as Zim quickly dialed. He spoke in hushed tones and a foreign tongue before

turning to Thompson again.

"Our Zurich bank received the wire transfer for the primary subject's training. We trust you to

advance the balance tomorrow."

"Of course."

"Good. We can begin."

Thompson collapsed in his chair after seeing Zim to the door. The interview had drained him.

He wished . . . No. The die was cast. He was lost in thoughts when the door burst open. She

strode toward his desk with arrogance and disdain.

"Who was the suit?" she asked haughtily as she sat in the chair recently occupied by Mr. Zim.

"A business prospect. What are your plans?"

"I've changed them. Chrissy and I leave for Paris tomorrow."

Cathy watched his face, seeing the distress come and go.

"I've enjoyed outwitting you, Jim. Don't take it personally. It was business. You had money. I

wanted it." She laughed cruelly. "Think of me when you authorize the monthly transfers. Think

of me and all that secret information I have."

"You're a bitch!"

"You're a fool and I'm a rich bitch now. I'd like to say you were fun, but you weren't.

Goodbye," she said as she stood. "Maybe we'll see each other someday."

"Yes, we will," he replied under his breath as she walked toward the door.

James Thompson was unable to sleep. He walked the halls of his expensive home. He jumped

when the phone broke the stillness of the night.

"Thompson here," he said when he picked up the receiver.

"Just a short report, Mr. Thompson. The two subjects were acquired. We'll be in touch with

you."

"I'm looking forward to it," Mr. Thompson said before he disconnected. That night he slept

soundly for the first time in days.

One month later, James Thompson again waited in his office for the arrival of Phillip Zim. The

men greeted each other. Phillip Zim began.

"I have a long progress report." Zim said as he opened his laptop. He read over his notes. James

Thompson was quiet and composed.

"Let's start with the younger sister, Christine, or Chrissy, as they call her. Have you ever met

her?"

"No, I haven't," Thompson replied.

"Delightful young woman. She's more beautiful than her sister. Our probes of her mind found

her to be the ideal prospect. She has submissive characteristics we're melding into your

objectives. You can thank Cathy for that. Cathy has spent her life making Chrissy subdued and

submissive, thinking she'll be the beneficiary. Directing those tendencies toward you is easy.

She'll be the ideal wife or mistress. As to her physical characteristics . . . "

Zim consulted his laptop again.

"Ah, yes. Our staff recommends no special modifications at all."

"No modifications?"

"None. We've processed many subjects over the years. We don't believe surgical modifications

to obtain some so-called ideal is best either for the subject or the client. She's beautiful with a

wonderful figure. Even her hair is ideal. It's a lustrous raven. I think you'll be very pleased."

"And Cathy?"

"Chrissy popped open like a ripe melon under our procedures and told us everything. It was very

interesting. She hates her sister, but's afraid to displease her. This is a plus for you. Besides

directing those characteristics to you, when Chrissy understands you control Cathy, she'll be

more at ease around her. Yes, her personality will easily meld with your objectives."

"And Cathy? What are your recommendations for her?" Thompson said coldly.

"Cathy has a very strong personality," Zim replied. He appeared embarrassed.

"Are you telling me you cannot deliver, Mr. Zim?"

"No, sir. We guarantee our results."

"Then, what are your recommendations for Cathy?"

"We need further time to evaluate her, Mr. Thompson. Our recommendations will be deferred

until then. The training program in contract situations is six months to a year, as I informed you.

It's only been a month, Mr. Thompson. You must have patience. Do you have any other

questions?"

"None," Thompson replied.

"We'll proceed then," Zim said as he stood. "I won't contact you for several more months."

Time passed slowly for James Thompson, even though it was filled with activities. Thoughts of

Cathy and Chrissy seldom left him. Four months passed from the women's acquisition before

Zim called him to schedule another meeting. Thompson set it for the first possible moment. Zim

was smiling when he arrived.

"I have another progress report, Mr. Thompson," Zim began. "First, Chrissy. She's exactly as

you ordered: the archtypical trophy wife. She's demure and classy, yet sensual and feminine.

She'll be a magnificent lady in the living room and a wildcat in the bedroom. And, as important,

she'll be completely loyal and faithful. You're fortunate indeed."

Zim sat back with a self-satisfied smirk. "In fact, another client wishes to have her. He's

prepared to offer top dollar."

"She's not for sale," Thompson snapped, angry at the suggestion.

Zim blanched. He was contrite when he spoke. "We never interfere in negotiations between

clients, Mr. Thompson. I'm bringing the offer to you as I must under company policy."

"Forget it."

Zim waited for his client's anger to subside.

"You've made a wise choice. She's very special. Her training's almost complete. She'll be

available in three weeks, or we can deliver them at the same time."

"No. I want her as soon as possible. Now, Mr. Zim, how about Cathy?"

Zim grimaced as if he had bad news to reveal. He shrugged his shoulders before opening his

laptop.

"Cathy's been difficult, very difficult, but the conversion has begun. How would you describe

Cathy, Mr. Thompson? I mean her personality, not her body."

"Underneath her very charming exterior, you mean? She's cruel. Manipulative. Hard.

Dominating and controlling."

"Yes. True. Very true. Dominanting and controlling. Ruthless in her desire to control; vicious

in her need to subugate others. But - we found the seed of another personality buried deeply in

her psyche. That seed is the opposite: warm, soft, fun loving. Cathy doesn't enjoy sex, Mr.

Thompson. Cathy doesn't enjoy life. We can't find anything she does enjoy except the perverse

manipulation of others."

"She appeared to enjoy sex with me."

"Manipulation only. A way of controlling you. She doesn't enjoy sex, either with men or

women. Our procedures determined that. No. Cathy's a manipulator, plain and simple."

Zim stopped. For a moment he looked blankly out the window, then focused again on the screen

in his lap.

"We're growing that hidden seed, Mr. Thompson. We're building a new personality that will be

what you want. Cathy's dominant personality's fighting us tooth and toenail. Our procedures are

imprisoning her in her own mind. We believe, over time, with the right atmosphere at her

resident location, the personality imprisoned will gradually wither, disappearing into the

programmed personality."

Zim stopped. Again, he consulted his file.

"The new personality will be diametrically opposed to the old one. We recommend a completely

different body type and we recommend a different name. We suggest you call her Candy."

"Candy?"

"Yes. Cathy's a proud and arrogant woman, as you well know, Mr. Thompson. We'll isolate her

in a body she hates controlled by a woman she despises. That woman will be Candy."

Zim laughed. "Cathy even hates the name Candy. She'll be constantly humiliated by Candy's

actions and appearance. This will pressure her into complete capitulation. Once she surrenders,

she'll accept and appreciate what she's become, or the personality known as Cathy will

disappear."

Zim waited until Thompson nodded understanding.

"As I said, we recommend significant body modifications. Cathy's figure is very lean, even

boyish. She's a fanatical believer in the saying 'the leaner the better'. Do you realize she's five

ten and weighs only one hundred ten pounds?"

"Cathy's very proud of her model's figure. She dieted and exercised religiously."

"That's why the changes we recommend are so important."

"How do you visualize her when you are through, Mr. Zim?"

"We use computer modeling in these situations. Her height isn't something we can change. We

project her weight'll be one hundred fifty-eight pounds. Our bone-to-mass analysis indicates she

can carry the extra weight easily."

"A forty-eight pound gain? Cathy'll be mortified."

"Yes, she will. She'll be humiliated, but Candy'll love it. Instead of a bag of bones like Twiggy

or Kate Moss, picture Marilyn Monroe. Picture a nineteenth century courtesan. Voluptuous.

Lush. Rich."

Zim smiled. "We leave no stone unturned, Mr. Thompson. Candy'll love her body, her soft, full

woman's body. We don't recommend the standard Victorian option. Candy'll exercise to keep

her figure. The fat to muscle ratio is very important. However, we recommend corset training."

"Why?"

"To optimize the waist to hip ratio."

"What'll her measurements be?"

"The computer projects several possible combinations. Mr. Thompson, our studies, based on

forty years of dealing with this subject, indicate the importance of a woman's measurements is

vastly overblown. It's her face, her eyes, her sense of self and sensuality, that attract a man.

Take Marilyn Monroe and Michelle Pfeiffer, for example. They're totally different body types,

yet men flock to them. It's their attitude, their individual projection of feminity."

"True. You know, Mr. Zim, Cathy's figure wasn't my ideal. I prefer more meat on my women.

It was always her mind that attracted me."

"Of course. Most men prefer a woman shaped like a woman, but the mind is the true sex organ.

That is why the training takes so long, Mr. Thompson. We must control her mind, modify it,

make it want to do what we want her to be. Looks are an important part of that. Back to her

figure. Our experience has proved the hip-to-waist ratio is the only physical measurement worth

noting. As long as it's .7 to one or less, other measurements aren't significant."

"Any other recommendations?" James Thompson asked.

"Only one at this time. Cathy's hair is short and black. We recommend Candy have blonde hair.

The final color is yet undetermined. Our current thinking is a light golden color. Length would

be to her shoulders."

"Sounds delightful."

"Yes. We'll have more suggestions later, I'm sure. Well, Mr. Thompson. May we proceed?"

"Certainly, but keep me informed."

"Of course. Don't worry. The subject will be wonderful when we finish with her."

"But she won't be Cathy."

"Cathy'll be there, somewhere in Candy's mind."

Thompson grinned evilly. He said, "I have one request. I want to talk to Cathy after you return

Candy to me."

Zim looked surprised.

"No one's ever requested that before. I think we can do it. I need to consult with our

specialists."

"Please do. It's important to me."

Thompson was at his desk when the phone rang two days after Zim's visit.

"Mr. Thompson, can you talk?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

"Good news. Cathy'll be accessible though Candy. You can speak to her whenever you wish.

Cathy won't be able to speak back unless you give Candy specific instructions to allow it."

"Excellent. Anything else?"

"I want to make arrangements to deliver Chrissy to you. She's ready."

A week later, James Thompson waited impatiently in his living room for the arrival of Christine

O'Brian. It was half past midnight when he heard the van in his circular driveway. At the knock,

he swung open the door. Phillip Zim smiled at him. Another man was standing behind Zim.

Thompson escorted his guests to the living room.

The other man carried a woman in his arms. She was covered by a cloak and hooded. The man

placed her on the floor. Only the pink tipped toes of her bare feet were visible. The woman did

not move, except to tilt her head downward. Without speaking, Zim removed the cloak and

hood. Thompson's sharp inhale was audible. Zim smiled.

"Good night, Mr. Thompson. I know you'll enjoy her," Zim said.

Thompson returned from escorting Zim to the door to find the woman unchanged. Slowly, he

walked around her, admiring what he saw. When he took her hand, her eyes opened. Bright blue

eyes gazed softly into his. One step and she was in his arms, her lips raised to be kissed. They

were soft and supple. Her body melted into him. When he broke the kiss, her eyes fluttered, wet

and unfocused.

"Oh, Jim, I've looked forward to this moment," she whispered.

"So have I, Chrissy. Come. Let's go to bed."

She smiled happily, revealing a dimple and bright, white teeth.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said sexily.

Three months later, Chrissy O'Brian answered the door of the Thompson mansion. Her

expensive and conservative white pants suit spoke of money, class and breeding, and hinted of

carnal pleasures.

"Hello, Mr. Zim. Please come in," she said, her smile wide and genuine. "Jim's expecting you."

After escorting Mr. Zim into the study, she excused herself. Zim heard her humming as she

quietly closed the door.

"I hear things are going well," Zim said.

"Unbelievably! How did you hear?"

"From Hermann and from another man whose wife was one of our subjects. Everyone, it

appears, likes Chrissy very much."

"True. Particularly me. She's a wonder."

"It's been ninety days since we delivered her. Any flaws we need to correct? Any additional

training needed?"

"No. No. She's more than I expected. She's smart. Her sense of humor is outstanding, her

personality perfect for me. And, in bed, well . . . "

Thompson's words drifted off. Zim waited patiently as he had waited for other clients many

times before. Thompson smiled at him before speaking again.

"Funny. I've fallen in love with her."

"That's to be expected, Mr. Thompson. All the positive feminine characteristics are reinforced

and magnified; the negative ones are diminished or eliminated. How could any man not love

her? Honestly, I'm not surprised. Our programming's designed to produce an ideal woman.

Nature takes over. Her man feels about her the way you feel about Chrissy."

"I think I'll marry her."

"That's your choice. She's programmed to be the perfect wife, you know."

James Thompson's eyes were looking at a picture in his mind. He sighed absentmindedly.

Finally, he turned back to Phillip Zim.

"You're here about Cathy?"

"Yes. I have a progress report."

"Go ahead," Thompson said.

"It's been eight months since acquisition. Cathy's still fighting with all her powers, but those

powers are reduced significantly. Candy's starting to blossom. The weight gain's coming along

nicely. Candy weighs one hundred forty-one now. She exercises a great deal, running to build

her legs and derriere, weight training to sculpt her body."

"How did you get her to gain weight? I couldn't get Cathy to eat two ounces of prime rib."

"Women aren't naturally addicted to prime rib, Mr. Thompson. They're addicted to chocolate.

High quality chocolate. Dark, rich, high fat, indescribable chocolate."

"Of course! Cathy would squirm when she saw chocolate, like it was the devil himself. I've

seen her fight herself not to eat it."

"Candy doesn't struggle to avoid it. She struggles to get it. I've always thought the forbidden

fruit in The Garden of Eden was chocolate," Zim said with a laugh. "I have a progress report to

discuss with you."

"You've got my agreement to do whatever you wish to her."

"That may include surgical modification. We haven't made our final recommendations yet."

"I don't want to hear it. Do what you think best."

"Thank you for your confidence, Mr. Thompson. You'll not regret it."

About three months later, Chrissy O'Brian was on her hands and knees in the middle on the big

bed in the Thompson bedroom. James Thompson was under her, his cock in her mouth. She

pulled back with a slurp and wrapped her fingers around him. Her free hand brushed back her

long black hair so she could look at him.

"Something wrong, honey?" she asked in a puzzled, shy voice. "You seem someplace else

tonight."

"Come lie by me for a minute," he said, patting the bed.

"But I'm enjoying this," she replied with a sexy smile.

He gently tugged on her hair, pulling her toward him. She slipped beside him, entwining her

body against his. Idly, her pussy moved lightly back and forth against his leg.

"Are you unhappy with me?" she whispered, anxiety evident in her voice.

"Oh, never."

"What is it then?"

"I want to marry you," he said softly.

Chrissy O'Brian began to cry. She sobbed out a grateful and genuine acceptance.

Three weeks later James Thompson's phone rang.

"Thompson here."

"Mr. Thompson, Phillip Zim. I'm calling to make the final arrangements for the delivery of

Candy O'Brian, but first, congratulations. I hear you're getting married."

"Yes. Thank you. Chrissy and I are very excited about it."

"Shall I put Candy in our sale program for you?"

"No. I still want Cathy, I mean Candy. I have some things to settle with her."

"We'll arrive tomorrow night shortly after midnight."

James Thompson watched the clock as it crawled past midnight. His fianc‚, Chrissy O'Brian,

dressed in a silk, full length robe, waited patiently. Jim rattled the ice in his glass. When they

heard the car in the driveway, both went to the door. Again Phillip Zim stood on the threshold,

accompanied by a man carrying a woman concealed in a hood and cloak. The man stood the

woman in the center of the room. With a flourish, Zim removed the cloak.

"That's not Cathy!" Chrissy gasped.

"But it is, or rather, it was," Zim replied. "She's wearing earplugs because I don't want her to

hear us. Isn't she magnificent? Look at that body!"

"She looks like Dolly Parton only taller and bigger. Oh, my god, Cathy hates that kind of body,"

Chrissy said.

"Yes, she does," Zim replied with a thin smile. "But this isn't Cathy."

"I know. She's Candy. Your representative explained everything to us."

"Her final weight is one fifty-one, Mr. Thompson. Waist-hip ratio's a perfect .7:1."

Thompson cupped one of her huge breasts in his hand, feeling its weight and shape. A groan

came from beneath the hood and her back arched a fraction of an inch, offering her breast to him.

"Implants?" he asked.

"Yes. It was needed to balance her figure. We also performed liposuction on her waist."

"Excellent work. I can't see a scar."

"Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I'll give your compliments to the surgeon."

"Can I talk to Cathy?"

"In a few moments, Mr. Thompson. Do you have any questions about her handling?"

"No questions, Mr. Zim," Thompson said.

"Chrissy?" Zim said. She looked at him and shook her head.

"Your part in this is very important."

"I know. Don't worry, Mr. Zim. I'll discipline Candy when she needs it. I'm looking forward to

being her mistress."

Zim smiled at seeing the determination on Chrissy's face. She'd been trained to be submissive to

James Thompson, but dominant over the other women in his life if he desired her to be. Zim

slapped the hooded woman on the back of her naked thigh. Gracefully, she knelt. He removed

the hood and the earplugs. She was still. Her eyes were closed. Zim and his assistant left.

Candy didn't move except for her gentle breathing.

"Keep your eyes closed, Candy, but you may speak if necessary," Thompson said.

"Thank you, Mr. Thompson," the woman replied in a soft and sexy voice.

James Thompson unzipped his slacks. Candy shivered in anticipation when she heard the zipper.

He rubbed his hard cock against her lips. Greedily, she sucked him in her mouth. He put his

hand on her head to guide her.

"Open your eyes, Candy," Thompson said as his hand on the back of her head held his cock deep

in her mouth.

She looked up at him, smiling around his cock. He saw what he wanted. Sensuality.

Submissiveness. Happiness. He pulled his cock out of her mouth.

"May I finish sucking you, Mr. Thompson?" she said.

"Later, Candy. I want to meet your new mistress."

"Hello, Candy," Chrissy said.

"Hello, Miss O'Brian," she said, "or, is it Mrs. Thompson?"

"Miss O'Brian will do for now."

"Chrissy, go to the bedroom. I want to talk to Candy," Thompson said.

Thompson led the naked Candy O'Brian into his study. He sat in his easy chair and instructed

her to sit in the chair opposite him.

"Candy?"

"Yes, Mr. Thompson," the woman replied sweetly, her expression showing her eagerness to

please him.

"You'll be our maid and cook. You'll perform any other duties we give you, but your primarily

responsibility will be to provide sexual enjoyment for me and any other man I tell you to please."

"I know," she replied eagerly. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Do you know who Cathy is, Candy?"

"Yes, I do. This may sound nutty, but she's in here with me. In my mind, I mean. Sometimes, I

can hear her talking to herself. Sometimes, I can hear her scream."

"That's not nutty. She's in there with you. Never listen to her, Candy. Never follow her

instructions."

"I know that, Mr. Thompson."

"While you enjoy sex, Cathy's humiliated by it. While you love men, Cathy hates them. These

men you're going to fuck will think you're Cathy. I want them to think you're Cathy. Many of

them are Cathy's friends and business associates. I want them to believe she's become a wild

and wanton slut."

"Well, I don't really understand your plan, Mr. Thompson, but I'll do whatever you want. I'll tell

everyone my name is Cathy O'Brian and that I'm the biggest slut in town."

"I know you will, Candy. You're a good woman. Now, I want to speak to Cathy. You keep

control of your body and don't let it move, but let Cathy control your face and voice. Candy,

listen for me. When I call your name, you take complete control again."

"Okay, Mr. Thompson."

"Cathy? Cathy, can you hear me?" Mr. Thompson asked.

The face of the woman kneeling between his legs crumbled. Tears flushed down her face

making a mess of her heavy makeup. Sobs wrenched from her throat. Thompson sat, letting her

cry hysterically. He waited as the crying subsided. When she looked up at him, her face was a

distraught study in the absence of hope.

"Cathy, did you hear what I told Candy?"

"Don't do it! Please, oh, god, please don't do it! Jim, I'm begging you!"

"Begging won't help, Cathy."

"I'll give you back all the money and information I stole."

"I already have them. Candy told Mr. Zim where they were. It seems the two of you share a

common memory."

"You bastard!"

The voice was a scream, the face a study in hatred. The body was relaxed and calm, not moving.

Thompson's eyes narrowed. His anger was evident.

"Why don't you relax and enjoy your new life, Cathy?"

"Let a man control me? Let any man fuck me any way he wants? I'd die first!"

"That's too bad. Your mind's brillant. You and I would've made a hell of a team."

"It's not too late, Jim! Release me. Let me help you."

"No, Cathy. It's too late. Candy has your intelligence, your training and knowledge, but she's

not a manipulative bitch like you are. I'm going to enjoy Candy like I never enjoyed you."

"I hate you!" she screamed. "I'll hate you forever."

"Cathy O'Brian," he said. "For fraud, theft, and deceit in our relationship, I sentence you to six

months solitary confinement in your living prison. After six months, I'll review your case. At

that time, I'll decide what further punishment you deserve."

"God, no. Please, Jim," Cathy sobbed. "Have mercy on me! Please! Have mercy!"

"That is merciful, Cathy. You'll get to enjoy all the people Candy pleases. You'll learn to enjoy

life and sex and yourself."

"Don't do that to me! Let me have my pride. Please!"

"Cathy, take pride in your woman's body. In Candy's body. Take pride in the joy you'll bring

men and women by being with them."

"No! No! I hate sex!"

"Goodbye, Cathy. I'll speak to you again in six months. Candy!"

The face changed. The woman shook her head as if regaining consciousness. Slowly, the sweet,

slutty demeanor of Candy O'Brian reappeared. She tilted her head to one side, as if listening to a

voice from afar.

"She's screaming again," Candy said.

"Pay no attention. Let's go upstairs," Mr. Thompson replied.

"Oh, good. Can we fuck? I love to fuck, Mr. Thompson."

 

The End

Please! Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
E. Z. Riter