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Copyright 1998 by EzRiter.

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THE ULTIMATE MIND CONTROL

"Dr. Richard McRichards, Code 10, SRL 2; Dr. Richard McRichards, Code 10, SRL 2"

"Oh, no," Dr. McRichards groaned in disappointment as he stopped, pulling his cock out

of the women he was fucking. "No, baby, I need you in me," she whimpered. "Please,

please, fuck me some more. I need your big cock."

"Inactive," he said, noting her strong resemblance to Yasmine Bleeth. He saw her eyes

flutter in response to the programmed command as she relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

He tried to stuff his stiff pecker back down inside his pants and tuck in his shirt. While

everyone knew he was very involved in quality control, there was no need to flaunt it. He

hurried down the hall toward the laboratory area.

"Doctor," he said to Bruce Davenport, his trusted assistant.

"Doctor," Bruce replied.

"What's the problem, doctor?"

"The $20,000,000 woman is in the building, doctor. They have her through preliminaries,

measurements, basic interrogation and IQ sections. She'll be in the SRL in a

moment."

Dr. McRichards looked around, noting the continual movement of people, all busy at their

jobs, which was to be expected in a well run, major company. He smiled thinking how the

company made $20 million pure after tax profit last year and he owned it, lock, stock and

barrel.

Next month should be the best month in the company's history. That's when the

conditioning of Lisa Winters would be finished and his client would pay him $20

million for her. It was the highest price he had ever received for a woman.

Lisa Winters. She was only seventeen but his client had specified her. His investigation

revealed a unique young woman. Besides placing in the top three in a national teen

beauty pageant and winning Miss Congeniality, she was the valedictorian in one of the

finest prep schools in America with an IQ of 172. Moreover, she was reputed to be

bubbly, positive, very sweet and very, very sexy.

"EMERGENCY! Security, Code Red 11, SRL 2. Security, Code Red 11, SRL 2."

"What the hell?" McRichards exclaimed. He grabbed a vapor protection mask off the

wall, snapping it around his head. He had not heard a "Red 11" called in years.

Pheronome overload. The smell of pussy. It could drive a man mad.

Security men rushed by him headed for the lab entry corridor. "I can walk by myself," he

heard a female voice say. His initial thought was of bell chimes. His second thought was

the sound of the Sirens, those mythical Greek characters whose voice lured men to their

doom.

All movement in the hall had ceased. Two men without masks ran screaming by him,

their minds overloaded, their trousers tented. Then, there wasn't a sound. He saw

security and other personnel backing up out of the corridor.

He saw her.

You must understand since Dr. Richard McRichards founded CyberPersonnel ten years

ago, quality control was the key to his success. Every single placement had to be a wild,

wonderful, hot, sweating, hard fucking woman. He had personally conducted quality

control of the approximately 10,000 women his firm had located, acquired, trained and

sold to clients around the world. Every one of them was special. Every one of them was

sexy, sensual, and beautiful.

Since his firm was now processing approximately five women a day, five days a week

and Dr. McRichards' quality control with each of them lasted approximately two hours, he

was spending fifty hours a week fucking the most beautiful, slutty, well-trained sex slaves in

the world.

It was a hard job but somebody had to do it. However, as a result, Dr. McRichards was

becoming jaded to the beauty of the female form. So, you can only imagine how good

Lisa Winters looked when Dr. Dick said, "Jesus Christ. Look at that!"

She was walking toward him like a lioness stalking her prey. His cock was hard as steel

and he was quivering. Every man in sight had the same response. Suddenly, her eyes

began to flutter and she fell to the floor at his feet, unconscious. The spell was broken.

The staff quickly returned to action. Lisa Winters was carefully lifted and taken to SRL 2.

"Bruce, I want a security report immediately. And I need damages. We must find out

what caused this."

"Immediately, doctor," came the response.

Dr. Dick watched through the glass window as Lisa was laid on the gynecological

examining table which was standard equipment in all the Sexual Response Laboratories.

He saw security attach the restraints to her wrists, then fit her feet in the stirrups, opening

her legs, making her available. The ankle restraints were quickly fastened.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Either feature by feature or considered as a package,

she was the most perfect woman he'd ever seen. Her head was slightly raised on the

pillow, her rich, full, red lips slightly parted as she slept. Her golden hair which sparkled

even in the labs flourescent lights lay around her like spun gold. Everything was perfect:

her nose, her dimples, her eye brows and lashes. He was so stunned by her face he had

not even looked below her neck yet, and, that's saying something.

He watched as the lab technicians putting all the measuring and evaluating equipment in

place. He moved to look toward that sweetness between her legs. A more beautiful pussy

he had never seen. It was a perfect rose. He could see the juice dripping from her and

the swollen, full lips.

"Walters!" he snapped.

"Yes, sir," his trusted aide replied, stepping to his side.

"Has she been sexually stimulated? Has anyone touched her?"

"I'll check, doctor."

Dr. Dick was mesmerized as he watched the young beauty laying so inert. Her eyes

began to flutter.

"No! Where am I?" she wailed. He ran to her side. "Are you from Mars? Have I been

captured by aliens?" she sobbed.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he removed the gas mask. Pheronome hit him like an ocean

wave, almost knocking him over. He tried to clear his head.

"Lisa?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. McRichards. You're safe. No harm will come to you here."

"I'm naked. Please, why am I naked and attached to this table?"

"We're going to run some tests on you, dear. That's all." She began to cry.

"Give her five ccs of BMC2 stat," Dr. Dick ordered the nurse at his side. The nurse

quickly drew the medicine from its container with a needle. She was reaching for Lisa's

arm when "Wait! That may be the problem!"

"What is, doctor?"

"BMC2. Has she been given any previously?"

"I'll check, doctor," the nurse replied.

"Dr. McRichards?"

"Yes, Walters?"

"No one has given her any sex drugs or sexually stimulated her."

Dr. Dick looked back at Lisa who had stopped crying and was watching them intently.

"Has anyone touched you sexually, Lisa?"

"Of course. I mean, I am seventeen."

"No, dear. I meant here, today?"

"No, sir," she answered, disappointment evident in her voice.

Dr. Dick led his team out of earshot. "It may be the whole sexual explosion was generated

by her naturally."

"No way! No woman has that much sexual power," Dr. Bruce exclaimed.

"No woman we have tested, you mean," Dr. Dick replied.

They looked back at the girl on the table who was staring at them.

"Reinforce her ankle and wrist restraints. Add upper arm restraints and around the knee.

Then, start the tests."

"Yes, sir," came the swift reply.

The Sexual Response Laboratory was designed to test, monitor and evaluate sexual data

about women. Besides monitoring blood pressure, pulse, heart rate, and other such

items, the Laboratory had developed other tests. The SEEG was the Sexual

Electroencephalogram to measure brain waves and chemistry. Several tests measured

the power of her kissing, the heat of her skin, the physical impact of her touch (in pounds

per square inch).

The PIP (Pussy Internal Pressure) test measured the amount and direction of force

applied by vaginal muscles at a depth of four inches. The DPIP (Deep PIP) measured at

eight inches. The PEP (Pussy External Pressure) test measured force at one-half inch

and included the effect of the inner lips. The PIT (Pussy Internal Temperature) test

measured the heat of the pussy itself at four inches.

The most sophisticated and newest test was the PIWA (Pussy Internal Wave Action) test.

This measured the effect of the internal pussy muscles to create a wave like motion to

draw the male cock deeper into itself and massage it there. Research showed the PIWA

factor to be essential to ultimate physical pleasure.

It was the POP (Pussy Odor Power) test McRichards believed to be the most crucial in

this instance. It measured the release of female phenormes at the labia and at five feet

away.

Dr. Richard McRichards stared down at his pants. He checked his watch. He had now

been constantly hard for almost two hours and just from watching Lisa Winters. Never in

his life had a woman had this effect on him. He noted the men in the area were all

tenting. The ones in the lab itself appeared almost to be in agony and they couldn't

take their eyes off her.

Suddenly, they saw Lisa's hips began to undulate. The lab technician grabbed for a

vapor mask. He was too late. His screams of madness filled the air as he buried his face

between Lisa's legs. The loud slurping sounds droned out her moans of desire as he

slurped away, never breathing, never wanting his intake of her to end, until he fell dead.

It was a horrible sight. They would autopsy to determine if he suffocated or died of a

hard . . . er, heart attack.

Lisa gasped and fainted, her needs temporarily met. Dr. McRichards called an

emergency security meeting. The staff was close to panic. His organization was in

danger. It was then his assistant had a brilliant idea.

"Capture her mother. Bring her here. Maybe she can shed light on this problem."

"Brilliant idea, doctor."

"Thank you, doctor."

"In the meantime, doctor, continue the testing with additional

anti-chemical-warfare protection."

"Yes, doctor."

Hours later, Dr. McRichards stood over Lisa Winters. He looked at this beautiful, sweet

young woman. Then, he looked back at his test results. Every test . . . every single

goddamned test . . . they gave her showed she was so far over maximum, they could not

measure it. No woman could have this much sexual power. He had to risk a personal

interview.

"Lisa," he asked, his voice muffled by the brand new high tech Vapor Lock 2000 gas

mask.

"Yes, doctor," she replied softly, her voice like the sounds of angels wings.

Why did he have the desire to fall to his knees and beg to kiss her pussy every time she

spoke? His audio testing procedures, which were still in development, needed to be

brought to production immediately.

"Have you had problems with men before?"

"Oh, no, sir. All men do what I want them to."

"I know that!" McRichards thought. "No, dear. I mean, do you cause men to go mad, into

convulsions, that sort of thing."

"Just once. My mother taught me how to control it." He fought the desire to kneel.

"Your mother?"

"Yes. She's really the beautiful and sexy one in the family."

"WHAT!!"

"My mother's the beautiful and sexy one," Lisa said.

"Noooo!" he thought.

The mother had been captured. She was in the building. McRichards ran from the SRL. The first

thing he noticed was the deathly quiet in the hallway. Where was everyone? Then, he heard the

sound of laughter. It was coming his way. Quickly, he injected a dose of anti-chemical

protection into his arm. The noise was getting closer.

Then, he saw her.

If Lisa Winters was a Mercedes, Stella Winters was a Rolls Royce. If Lisa was a

princess, Stella was a queen. She was the mold from which Lisa was made. But, now

thirty-five and in the full flower of her feminity, she made Lisa pale by comparison.

He knew it was all over. He knew it was too late. A life times work . . . destroyed. Dr.

Richard McRichards could not move. Stella was walking toward him, her eyes holding

him in place like a tractor beam from the Enterprise. He could only do what men have

done for millenniums when faced by insurmountable danger. He prayed.

"Please, God. Don't let her undress."

Stella's mouth curled in a sweet, shy and very sexy smile as she stopped before the

frozen scientist.

"Dickie," she said softly. He felt the chains surround his mind.

"Here, let me remove that ugly old mask. Now, isn't that better."

Pheronome flowed over him. He thought he would lose consciousness but her finger

under his chin kept him alert.

"It's OK, Dickie. I won't hurt you," she said as she kissed him.

The feelings of being enveloped in pure goodness, like returning to the womb, flowed

from her lips to his. Her nipples against his chest were a counterpoint, like two small

electric prods sending raw power through him. He felt faint from the blood rushing from

his head to his cock which was filled to bursting.

"Is my daughter safe?" Stella asked.

"Yes," he whimpered.

"I knew you were a good man and wouldn't hurt my baby. Thanks for keeping her safe,

Dickie."

The pressure of her fingers on his arm was the equivalent, in terms of physical

characteristics, of a light summer breeze, but, it was the equivalent of three NFL linemen

holding him when measured in control of the subject.

"How can I make you happy, Stella?" he gasped.

"I'm just like any woman," she said shyly. "I need a big strong man to care for me. I need

a husband, Dickie."

Lisa Winters dropped out of high school. Now, executive vice president and director of

male operations at CyberPersonnel, she and her mother were responsible for the

changes in corporate policies and operations which had doubled Company profit is a

year by training and selling men as well as women.

Like her step father, she believed quality control was the key to success. For that reason,

she did it personally.

Naked, legs spread, Lisa was in her office on her quality control testing apparatus (called

a bed when not for official company use). Between her legs was a man who was a dead

ringer for George Clooney and had a foot long cock.

Lisa was hot and sweaty. She had orgasmed eleven times with Subject 00769, as the

man had been renamed when taken by CyberPersonnel. But he had been sold to the

woman Prime Minster of a major foreign power and CyberPersonnel wanted him to be

perfect. This was an opportunity to penetrate new markets, so to speak. She groaned

and tightened her legs around him as orgasm twelve flowed over her.

"Now, take a deep breath," she ordered, pushing the man between her legs. She felt the

breeze tickle her clit as he inhaled. "Like that smell, 69?" she said, calling him by his

nick-number.

"Yes, Miss Winters," he moaned. "I can never get enough."

"That's the whole point," she thought. She kissed his cheek and dismissed him.

"Please, Miss Winters, we have been screwing for an hour and I have not orgasmed.

May I cum?"

"Your new owner will be here shortly, 69. I am sure she would love having your huge

balls unloaded in her."

"Thank you, Miss Winters," he whimpered as he left for the Exit Station, carefully holding

his bloated and painful balls.

Lisa slipped on a robe to go see her parents. When she exited her office, two

technicians walking by fell to their knees, sobbing. "Damn. I need to shower. I can't let

my pheronome interfere with smooth corporate operations." Now clean, her blonde hair

still wet around her head, Lisa walked through the halls of CyberPersonnel.

"Hi, Dr. Bruce. Where are mom and dad?"

"They're in their office, Lisa," the doctor replied, feeling his erection snap upward as his

knees buckled and he kneeled.

She opened the door and smiled, seeing her step father naked and on his back, her

mother over him, his cock buried in her. Lisa could see the barely perceptible movement

of her mother's body. Dr. McRichards looked as if rigor mortis had set in, totally stiff and

death like.

"Mom, how long has it been?"

"Three hours and five minutes, honey."

"Isn't than a long time for a man to fuck? I mean, has he been in you the whole time?"

"We're going for a new record. Anyway, he loves it. Don't you, Dickie?"

Stella brushed her nipple across his cheek. She enjoyed seeing him jump when she did

that. It was as if she had put a cattle prod to his skin.

His involuntary twitch was his only movement . . . except for a smile which grew across

his face.

The End

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