Partner or Toy?

“So,” I inhaled after sexing Debbie to Nirvana a couple of days later, “what made you decide to come back when you did?  I mean, you have this power that can get you just about anything you want.”

“Life event,” she purred.  “I graduated almost two months ago.  I had my first interview last week, and I got another one tomorrow.”  Debbie rolled over to face me, that awesomely gorgeous, just-been-fucked expression in her eyes, and the blush of intense orgasm still on her skin.  “It’s time to take stock of where and how I want my life to go.  And who I want to share it with.  The answer came up you.”

I asked her about her interview, and she answered the question I was afraid to without me verbalizing it.  “I didn’t—and I’m not—gonna use my power.  I need to prove something to myself.  It took me almost four years to get this damn M.B.A., and I’m going to succeed on my own merits.”  The bedroom was quiet for a moment.  “So, are you afraid of me, Ray?”

“A little,” I confessed.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she returned with complete honesty.  Another silence.  “I can’t promise I won’t ever use it on you.”  I hummed in understanding.  “I can promise that I will try not to hurt you with it.  Is that good enough?”  I shrugged.  Honestly, what choice did I have?  I still wanted to be with her.  Debbie broke the somber mood by giggling, “But will you cook dinner tonight?  I’m not quite… there.  My mind and body still aren’t working quite right.  Somebody turned them into mush.”  No tingle, no coercion.  I said I would, and she swatted me on the ass when I turned to head for the kitchen.  I spun to see a great big grin on her face, which was answered with an unbidden one of my own.


I could see storm clouds come in the door with my wife the next evening, and it made me nervous.  “Gotta call from my last interview.  I didn’t get the job,” she tersely said before sitting down on the sofa.  “So… I went there after my interview and caught up with the person who interviewed me.  I wanted to know, kinda informally, what was lacking.  I mean, I graduated cum laude, and I thought I interviewed real well.”  She exhaled noisily and the skies around her head darkened even more.  “You know what it was?  My old supervisor—you remember, dickhead.  He basically told her not to hire me because my work ethic was lacking and that I didn’t work well in team settings.”

I nervously asked if she would consider using the power to change things.  “No,” she sighed, deflating.  “It’s actually not that easy.  First, I have to be there in person to use it, and I can’t really control more than one person at a time.  When I try, it’s real hard to make even just one of them do something.  There’s no way I could control her and the people in HR and her bosses at the same time.  I haven’t been able to figure out a way to make my commands permanent, either.  They start to fade pretty fast if I’m not there, so every day I’d have to erase doubts that might surface every night,” Debbie candidly confessed.  “Cognitive and emotional things are especially hard.”  I cocked my head.  “Well, take sex, for instance.  Sex is easy.  I mean, it’s a very strong, basic drive.  That’s—pushing someone to do something they want to do, just changing the target.”

“On the other hand,” Debbie continued, “making someone do something that they don’t want to do—something that requires active thought—that’s hard.  It takes a lot more effort on my part.  It depends on what barriers that person has against doing what I want them to.  Like, it wasn’t that hard to get you to call me ‘Mistress,’ and only slightly difficult to—bottle you up the way I did,” she said, making me turn bright red.  “I’m guessin’ that you felt pretty guilty about what you did, and so… you felt like you should have been punished.”  She gave me a smile that was so sincere that it put me at ease and waved her hand dismissively.  “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything stupid.  This just makes me all the more determined.  Besides, it’s kinda like with you.  I want a job that wants me.  Not one that I’ve—pushed—into wanting me.”


We made our anniversary pilgrimage to Paris that Saturday, but I had to plan a decidedly less extravagant trip because it was at the last minute, and Mr. Scary’s money was running out.  However, my darling wife filled the gap admirably.  She used her power to get some of the perks without paying for them.  “They have rules,” she explained, “but they’re flexible.  I couldn’t get us first class and the Presidential suite, but a free upgrade to business class and the best available double room in the house for a happy anniversary couple?  No problem.”

Debbie regarded me carefully as we relaxed with champagne in our room after our traditional anniversary dinner.  Finally, she softly asked, “Ray, how did it work, the mind-control you had over me?  Did you like, spin a crystal in front of my eyes and give me post-hypnotic commands?  Was there some sort of trigger?  Did you do it to other people?”  There was no sense in being disingenuous, so I told her about “Ten-Gamma-ten.”  She seemed relaxed throughout, more curious than anything.  “So, you never made me do anything bisexual or loan me out to a buddy, right?”

“No,” I replied, “that would have been a little too high-profile… too out-of-character for you.”  She cocked her head.  “When you’re mind-controlling somebody,” I explained, “you generally don’t want the whole world to know that they’re being mind-controlled because they are acting too far out of character.  About the only anomaly to your behavior was that you started smoking, which is rare, but not unheard of.  And you expanded your social circle, which you seemed genuinely happy about.”  Debbie smiled at me, and told me a couple of stories about her friends from her old job.  She still kept in touch and saw them from time to time.  I refilled her glass and gave her a warm kiss.  “My turn?”  Debbie gave me a long, slow kiss, and it took me a few seconds to remember what I was going to ask her.  “Do you remember any of it?”

She shook her head.  “Not really.  I don’t remember you giving me any commands.  I don’t remember one single, ‘Yes, Master.’  It’s like I can tell what’s changed, but I don’t think I can do anything about it, and I can’t remember how it happened.”  Debbie smiled.  “Some of it, I don’t want to change.  I’m smarter, I feel sexier than ever, and… I’ve lost a little weight.  I like walking now.”  She lazily reached for her cigarette holder.  “And I like your fascination with smoking so much that I’m still doing that.”  Her eyes went horny as she carefully placed a More into the holder.  “As-tu du feu?” Debbie purred, her throaty voice full of come-hither.  I lit her cigarette and settled in for the show.  “Everything sounds sexier in French.  Je vais fumer pour toi, et puis, tu vas me baiser très fort, ma chère.”


We came back after only a few days in Paris—my work was heating up again, and Debbie wanted to get back to her job search.  She felt a little guilty about not contributing to the household.  She didn’t get the job she had interviewed for before we left.  While her doubts about being able to use her power to get her job, along with her determination not to use it for that, remained strong, she was not beyond using her power to find out why she didn’t get it.  “I didn’t have a chance,” she explained a few days later after persuading the interviewer to talk about the decision.  “They hired a district manager’s kid.  MBA whiz kid, 4.0 across the board.  “They told me that the strength of my academic record should be encouraging, and they are going to keep me in the file if they have an opening.”  I gave her a hug and told her that it would all work out.  “I could use a little sex pick-me-up, though, Ray.”

All that power, and she was still vulnerable as ever.  “C’mon,” I grinned, “meet’cha in the bedroom, sexy.”  Debbie hadn’t used the power on me since her auspicious return—at least not that I could tell.  She walked in with a More in a holder and asked me for a light.  “Why don’t we do it without involving my fetish,” I suggested.  “I fell in love with you, and that should be plenty to get me going.”  Debbie’s surprised expression gave way to a squeak of happiness and she pounced on me, engulfing my cock with enthusiastic glee.  Her red hair swirled in my lap, then she suddenly slowed down her crazed efforts.  Her tongue danced on the head of my cock, sending more blood to it.  She smiled and released it to the air, her hand wrapped gently around the expanding base.  Debbie lowered her head, recapturing it, sucking gently, making me harder, more ready for her.  When I was fully erect, Debbie let go of me and stood to remove her clothes.  I stroked myself lightly, keeping myself ready for her, and I watched her reveal her body with hunger and need.

She was panting softly when she rejoined me on the bed, and we kissed, slowly, deeply.  Debbie quickly rolled onto her back as we broke the kiss and raised her legs high.  I entered her, probing at first, because she was tight, only moving slowly, but her grip eased, and suddenly she felt perfect, wet enough to move easily, with maximum friction around the head of my cock.  Too perfect.  I felt my orgasm flash through my body and—suddenly, I focused on her eyes, and Debbie softly said, “Wait for me… it’ll be better… make it back off…  Think about it and stop it for a while…  It’ll be better, I promise…”  I felt the tingle, and I followed her instructions… and the point of no return moved further into the future.  “Ohhhh… that’s it,” she cooed approvingly.  “You did it—”  Debbie hiccupped as my thrusts became longer and smoother.  “That’s not me…”  Eyes locked, hips moving in perfect counter-time, we made love.  Debbie’s face blossomed into that shade of red, and I felt her tighten inside, as her eyes became distant.  Then they rolled around in her head and her verbal expression turned into involuntary squeaks, followed by a long, low, guttural moan heralding her orgasm.  My hips slowed, but as soon as she relaxed from her orgasm, I began giving her long, slow strokes, and this time, when my orgasm approached, I did nothing to stop it, and neither did she.

“Debbie—oh god, Debbie,” I gasped, and then everything was a blissful, intense white.  I regained my senses to find myself panting, kissing Debbie sloppily, haphazardly, randomly, and I was still hard inside of her, my hips slamming forward of their own volition, pushing myself as deeply as I could go, urging the last feeling and the last drops from my body.  After one final, massive shudder, I began to soften, and Debbie released my cock from her most intimate embrace as she gave me a deep, wet kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered, smiling, her hair disheveled.  “And I love that you want me for me.”

I fell off her, unable to focus, barely able to think enough to process what she had said.  “I love you, too,” I gasped, just because that was what one said after incredible sex with one’s wife.  She had done—something—to me, that had allowed me to control my orgasm’s approach, and even back it off from the very cusp of the point of no return.  Nothing even remotely came close to the intensity of the sheer physical joy of a release so controlled.  I fell asleep before I could act on a momentary thought of asking her how she had done it.

I was awakened by Debbie’s second blowjob of the evening, a gentle one, without frenzied lust.  She smiled when she saw that I was awake.  “No… Debbie… please…” I whispered.  “Let me please you.  Come straddle me.  I want you to.”  This was one thing that she never wanted to do, because of her self-consciousness about her size.  “Sweetheart?”  She reluctantly moved forward, hesitation on her face.  “Let me do you,” I urged.

The sound of Debbie sighing my name in ecstasy as she swung her leg over my head and sat on my face was as thrilling as any experience I had had in my life.


Debbie plopped onto the sofa next to me as I was half-watching a baseball game on a lazy Saturday afternoon.  “Can I ask you a question?  I want to ask you about mind-control.”  That got my attention, and I turned off the television.  “So that mind control site on the web is all sexual fantasy, right?  There sure seem to be a lot of people who get turned on by it.”

“I take it you know that it’s not just geeks who can’t get any writing those stories.”

“Uh-huh,” Debbie said, “and that surprised me.  But other than giving me a couple of—ideas—it didn’t really do anything for me.”  She was headed for a point and I just had to wait for her to get there.  “But, I guess it did—does—something for you.  That means you’ve had a lot of chances to think about it, right?”  I nodded.  “So how do you do it?  I mean, assuming you can control someone, how would you go about it?”

It wasn’t a question I had expected, and so I asked her why she wanted to know.

“Well…”  She looked at the floor.  “One of my old co-workers is getting a divorce.  Her husband left her last year because she was… he told her that ‘she wasn’t hot any more.’  See how hot he looks after having three kids.  Anyway, I was thinking—”

“Stop right there,” I interrupted.  “You were wanting to know if you could fix it and make him go back to her.”  Debbie nodded eagerly, a hopeful smile blossoming on her face.  “It’s a bad idea.”  Her face fell.  “Not because you can’t do it, but because you need to be discreet about it.  Think of people as dominoes and the space between them indicates how well they know each other, how close they are.  Each person they know is a part of another string of dominoes.  The closer they are, the more chance that if you knock one over, more will fall.  Unless you can simultaneously prop up all the other dominoes, taking over the one you target is going to have unintended consequences.”

Debbie nodded, seeming highly interested in my explanation.  I continued, “If you could do it in the real world—the object would be to wiggle the domino so that you’ve moved it to where you want, without the other dominos falling as a result.  And if the domino realizes what is happening, it may fall down on its own to alert the other dominoes that something isn’t right.”

“So how—pardon me for asking this—did you change me the way you did without setting off alarms?  Until I… got my memories back, I must not have showed any signs of being abnormal,” Debbie said.  “Surely my mother would have noticed.”

“The only thing she saw was her daughter head-over-heels in love with a reasonable, intelligent young man,” I replied.  “I never made you act out-of-character in public.”

“But how did you make me want to… do what I do?  How on earth did you get me to start smoking?” she wondered.

“There are back doors into and holes in everyone’s psyche.  What you can’t do explicitly with a command, those ‘ins’ may allow the person to accept your commands because it might help them get what they want, especially if the desire is strong enough,” I explained.  “You keep at it, reinforcing it with your behavior, and at some point they won’t know that it was your doing.  It’s so tangled up with their needs, desires, and who they are, that it’s almost impossible to separate it after a while.”

Debbie leaned back into the sofa, her eyes bright with interest.  “So,” she said, removing a More, “I smoke these because—?”

“Because at heart, you wanted to be sexy… almost irresistible, and you had a thing for me.  I told you that was how to get me to see you that way, and get me.”  I lit her cigarette, and she made a big, showy, french-inhale with a devilish smile.  “When you saw that it worked, it was reinforced every time you repeated the behavior.  The fact that it gained you acceptance into a larger support group just gave you more incentive to continue.”  I thought for a moment, and then resumed, “As far as I am concerned, in the real world, you don’t necessarily want the person you are controlling to know it.  It works well in fantasy… but I’m not sure that it’s good in real life.  The number of people you’d have to control would probably spiral exponentially.”

“Sooo… if I want someone to do something, I need to look for their weakness, and then use that to get them to take my commands and make them their own.”  I told her that was it.  “Would you teach me how to do it, how to mind-control somebody?  After all, you’ve got real experience at it.”

My jaw dropped.  “Mind control involves a non-consenting third party,” I said incredulously.  “Morally, it’s reprehensible, and I’m not proud of what I did to you.”

“But you’re thrilled with the results,” Debbie accurately retorted.  “I’d even let you have control for a while.  Think of it as a chance for you to indulge a very personal fantasy.”

“I’m not comfortable with the idea of being involved in doing it to someone else.  I lost enough sleep over you,” I complained.

“Not enough that you didn’t do it,” she pointed out.  I flinched inside.  “Ray, I’m not out to rule the world—I can’t.  But I’d like to make things better for… other people as much as I can.”

“It’s easy to say you’ll set limits on what you’re going to do with it, but the temptation can be overwhelming.  You can easily lose yourself,” I said, shaking my head.  Then I added for emphasis, “I know I did with you.”

“But you’ll be there to make sure that I don’t—cross the line,” she begged.  “What good is having a power if you can’t do some good in the world with it?”

“When all is said and done, my being there won’t help, because you could very easily control me into going along,” I sighed, drawing one of the most hurt looks I’d ever seen on Debbie’s face.  She pouted, and silently begged me with her eyes, but I remained firm.

As we were cleaning the kitchen after dinner, Debbie looked at me and said, “I know why you’re going to teach me about mind control.”  I opened my mouth to interrupt, but she continued, “This power makes me a freak.  I will use it, because I can.  I have used it for stupid things like sex and travel perks.  What happens if I get more ambitious?  If I don’t learn how to control it, someone’s going to figure it out and then what happens?  I can’t control my way out of every situation, and if like, the government were to find out…”  Her voice trailed off and she had my complete attention.

Debbie resumed, “I can imagine that any government would love to take me apart so they can find out how to create an army of mind controllers.”  It was all I could do to keep my knees from buckling.  She had no idea of how perilously close she was to being in that exact scenario.  “I need to learn because I need to keep our secret.  I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want anybody or anything taking me away from you.  I’d like to have several full years of uninterrupted marriage, which hasn’t happened yet.  If being able to use my power from time to time doesn’t excite you enough to teach me, the problems that could happen should worry you enough to do it.”

I carefully weighed my options before answering.  It was clear that blissful ignorance wasn’t going to work—for a variety of reasons.  If I taught her how to effectively, discreetly use her power, I could be creating a superhero—or a supervillain.  Debbie’s personal appetite for power would ultimately decide which she would become.  I looked at her, searching for some clue about how the power would affect her once she wasn’t afraid to use it.  Would she become power-mad?

“I’ll never leave you for another guy,” she said.  “Even if I could use the power to control emotions and make someone else fall in love with me.  Because the one person I can’t control and make forget is me.”  She gave me an incredibly sweet kiss on the cheek, radiating sincerity.

I gave in.  “All right.  I will help you learn how to use your power to control people effectively.”  If I was making another deal with a second devil, at least this one was fetching and charmingly naïve about it.  Maybe there was hope.  “But you have to find the people to practice on.  Please don’t… use me.”

“I won’t,” she promised, brightly.  That was all I could hope for, a promise.


About a month later, I came home a little late from work to find Debbie in the living room with another woman.  “Ray, this is Suzanne, from my old job.  I hope you don’t mind that I invited her to dinner.  Suzanne, this is my darling husband.”

“Hi Suzanne,” I said, greeting the sharp-faced, rotund woman I had only met once before, at our wedding.  “It’s nice to meet you again, and I’m happy that you’re joining us for dinner.”  Tonight would be a chance for Debbie and Suzanne to catch up with each other.  I spent the evening listening to them laugh over old times.  It was good to see Debbie make connections with her friends.  Maybe there was hope for us to be “normal.”

I lit their after-dinner cigarettes; Suzanne smoked Capri 120’s, which was—interesting, fetish-wise, but she wasn’t quite attractive enough, and she wasn’t my wife.  I cleared the table and went into the kitchen as they continued to chat.  Debbie appeared behind me shortly thereafter, and gave me a hug.  “You’re ignoring our company,” I smiled.

“No I’m not,” she chirped.  “Suzanne’s the friend I was telling you about.  The one with the ex-husband.  She’s been feeling really down about things, so I thought I’d cheer her up.”

“That’s sweet.”

“So do you think those Capris are sexy, too?” Debbie grinned, impishly brushing the front of my pants lightly with her hand.

“Why?  Thinking of changing?”

“Not—exactly.  C’mon back, leave the dishes ’til later,” she whispered.  I excused myself temporarily to take an Advil to get rid of the slight headache I had developed.  Leftover from work, I mused, before joining Debbie in the dining room.  Suzanne was smoking another Capri, french-inhaling slowly.  Wow, I thought,  That’s a lot like the way Debbie does it.  Debbie was smiling, and asked Suzanne, “Do you think Ray is good looking, Suzi?  Is he sexy?”

“Yes,” she responded.  The question had embarrassed me.  Distracted, I barely noticed that there was something about the way Suzanne gave her response that wasn’t quite right.

Debbie turned to me and said, “Just watch the way she smokes, Ray…  That’s all that matters now.  Indulge your fetish, baby.”  Just like that, I couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away from Suzanne, and Debbie returned her attentions to her friend.  “Would you like to feel sexy again?  Can you see how my husband is looking at you?  Doesn’t it make you feel sexy?”

“Yes…”  Suzanne’s answer was blank and slow, drawn-out.  My cock was inflating very quickly.

“All of that frustration… all of that horniness… feeling like you’re not attractive, Suzanne… wouldn’t you like all of that to go away?  The feel of flesh on flesh… desire… just for you.  Ray… showing you how attractive you are,” Debbie husked.  I wanted to complain and argue, but every time Suzanne raised the ultra-slim Capri, my cognitive function declined, my cock surged, and I was powerless to do anything about it.  “Can you feel your body get ready, Suzi?  How hot it feels to be sexy for someone?  And Ray is good at sex, Suzi… he knows how to make you feel good… do you want to feel good?”

“Mmmmm... hmmmm…”  Suzi’s hips were rolling around in her chair, and I could see a faint blush rising.  She wasn’t pretty but… ohhh that french-inhale…  I was wrapped in the straitjacket of my fetish, and all I could do was get hornier.

“See how hard he is for you now?” Debbie purred, her seductive voice in full flourish.  I looked down to find that my pants were off, even though I had no memory of removing them.  “Doesn’t she look hot now, Ray?”  I nodded, feeling incredibly hard—possibly harder than I had ever been in my life, and incredibly horny.  Suzanne narrowed her lust-fogged eyes at me, and licked her lips.  “He thinks you’re hot and sexy… do you want him?”  The answer was obvious, because Suzi was determinedly rubbing herself through her jeans.


I lay on the bed having just had sex with Suzanne with an intensity that had previously only been reserved for Debbie.  Suzi was getting dressed while my wife talked to her.  “Now Suzi, remember how attractive a sexy man found you… the sex was great, but his face is fading… fading as in a dream, but you know it was all real, the heat, the passion, the hunger for you.  You will not remember that it was my husband, but a friend of ours.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Suzi responded.  Now that I wasn’t distracted, the blankness was obvious.  My wife was mind-controlling her friend from work!  My cock surged powerfully yet again, much to my disbelief.

Debbie left the room with Suzi.  When she returned, she looked at me and giggled, “You need a little more care.  I guess that Viagra stuff really works.”

With Suzi gone, whatever spell I had been under was finally broken.  “Viagra?” I said.  “I didn’t take any Viagra.”

Debbie giggled again.  “You should really go into teaching.  I followed your advice and it worked perfectly.  Since when do you take just one Advil for a headache?”  My jaw dropped while she continued to explain, smiling, “I just gave you a slight headache, and then played with your perceptions a bit.  Took a lot more work than getting a few free samples of Viagra from the doctor.”  Before I could get indignant at having been mind controlled, she knelt and took me into her mouth.  “Wow,” she said between licks, “This is rock hard.  I know what I want right now.”  Debbie gave me a devilish look.  “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you with it.  Are you hurt?  Be honest with me.”

I sighed, angry at having been used, resigned to accepting it, and somewhere deep inside, I also silently admitted to myself that fucking Suzi had been a lot of fun.  “Other than the fact that my cock feels like a steel rod?” I finally said, not really answering her question.

“I’ll take care of that,” Debbie husked.  “You might not make it to work today.”


“Let me get this straight,” I said to Debbie over breakfast the following morning, “you—mind-controlled Suzanne into being so dominated by her repressed sexuality so that she didn’t care that I was your husband and that you were in the same…”

“House,” she finished for me, since I had no idea of where she was while I was having crazed sex with her friend.  Nor had I cared.  “You were talking about taking advantage of needs and wants, and that’s what I did,” she replied.  “It worked quite nicely.  And you were just too damn easy.  It was fun teaching Suzi how to do the sexy smoking things.  I kinda like those super-skinny Capris, too.  They’re a nice change of pace.  And it still gets you going.”  She paused.  “All kidding aside, Ray, I did it because she was horribly depressed.  And you are great in bed.  Best I’ve ever had.  What her husband said… it was—”

“I understand that, Debbie.  But did you have to use me as your personal penis?”  The last part just came out.

“Who else would I trust?  Who else do I know so well?  And who else… gets excited by mind control?”  Debbie looked at me.  “I’m not gonna lie and say it was easy for me to have you screwing Suzi in our home, either.  But… she was falling apart inside, and it was something that—traditional—therapy wasn’t going to be able to fix.”  She stood, walked over to me and leaned on the table, her arms on either side of me.  “When I do something like this, I’d rather have you as a partner, not a toy.”  She headed towards the bedroom.  “Partner or toy?” she repeated over her shoulder.  “Remember, I know what you like.”  She reappeared in the hall, naked, posed with her long holder.  “Capris don’t work in this, so you’re gonna hafta settle for the usual,” she sang.  I felt my cock respond eagerly but that was the only thing that was.  Damn blue pill.

This story copyright © 2006-2008, The Flying Pen

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