Taking Total Control: A Mesmerizing Bundle

by Nadia Nightside

  Even still, Joan tried to defy his will. Once he had the watch back, he'd take care of that permanently. But until that point, he just needed to lean on her a little bit.

  “I need you,” he said to Joan. His hands clasped onto her cheeks. “All of you. For the show. My career’s on the line. It’s too important. It won’t be enough unless I’m in control of everything. I have to be.”

  That was all true. But what was also true for Warren was that the thought of wiping his sister’s mind totally clean, even for a little while, was incredibly exciting.

  “Yes, Warren. Master. Of course.” Joan stepped back, looking worried. “I’m...I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not angry. Just worried. I want all my girls back home. All of them.”

  She nodded. “I’ll do it, Sir. I love you.”

  Warren smiled. That would do. For now.

  * * * * *

  It was rather enjoyable, having female slaves. Melinda could see now why Warren had grabbed so many. She hadn’t even considered using the watch for sex until she had captured Belle and Katie.

  As she reclined on the couch in her home, the two beauties massaged her feet now, doing a rather wonderful job of it. She promised them that if they did a good enough job, she would allow them to lick her pussy.

  Melinda was something of a demisexual, and needed a lot of time together with a potential lover before feeling the intimacy required for copulation.

  Perhaps, she considered, munching on a grape, that was why Carlos had been such a complete disappointment.

  Carlos was an inadequate lover, and the other two men were taken in the first place only for their money. Indeed, Carlos had only been brought into Melinda’s equation in the first place because she wanted someone with a little safety net of cash to support her as she transitioned through the divorce. The plan had never been to be with Carlos long term—which is why it was sort of amusing to her, during a hypnosis session, to find out that the poor dear had plans of making her his wife.

  She rolled her bright, gorgeous green eyes at the memory. As if. She wasn’t done with men, but she was definitely done with marriage. She wasn’t even thirty—what did she want with being attached to someone for the rest of her life?

  The doorbell rang. Immediately, suspicion entered Melinda's heart. Surely, Warren wasn't trying again to take the watch? Hadn't he learned his lesson?

  Katie perked up slightly. “Shall we get it, Mistress?”

  Melinda sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

  The two slaves had their minds a little too fucked at the moment to be of much use to Melinda in any capacity outside of physical service. Later, she would train them to greet others as if they were Melinda’s friends. Or perhaps cousins? Belle did look so much like her, after all. She walked through the house calmly, rather enjoying the way her feet felt so relaxed. The girls really were very good at massaging.

  Peeking out the window, she noticed that, curiously, it was Joan who stood at the door.

  Joan, who hated Warren. Who despised him. Who would do anything at all if it meant humiliating and demeaning her brother.

  In truth, Melinda had never been able to stand Joan. The bitch hadn’t bothered to come to her wedding, and had never sent a gift—never—not even with numerous reminders about where she and Warren were registered. Never a card in the mail, never a congratulations. Indeed, Joan always acted like she felt sorry for Melinda—which was the one sin that Melinda could never ignore.

  No one would pity Melinda. No one would hold her in contempt. She was above that. She was above everyone.

  When you’re above everyone, after all, then no one can ever have a thought that harms you.

  Melinda smiled, opening the door. Even if Warren had somehow gotten his sister to talk to him, Melinda felt confident of her ability now to completely wipe her mind. Maybe give her an attitude adjustment.

  Yes, maybe she would do that anyway? Joan was rather beautiful, after all.

  In fact, she looked a lot like Melinda. Just like Belle did.

  Wasn’t that...strange?

  Warren. What a pig. He did have a type.

  The moment Melinda opened the door, she noticed something was terribly wrong. Joan’s eyes—her entire face, really—looked blank.

  For a moment, Melinda was able to study her intensely gorgeous features. She had only met Joan a few times, and each time Melinda had been sort of drunk. Always at parties or get-togethers, Warren trying to drum up support for Joan by arriving at her insipid little journal release parties. Melinda drank to get through them. They were insufferably vain, cannibalistic affairs otherwise. The alcohol turned the insufferability down to a reasonable sufferable level

  Melinda had been waiting for Joan to say something—but so far, there had been nothing.

  She crossed her arms. “Are you going to just stand there all day, or say something?”

  Joan pushed open the door, arms jerking mechanically.

  “Joan?” Melinda was surprised. “What’s wrong with you...why is your face so blank?”

  She looked almost like she had been hypnotized, but there was a strange purpose to her expression, even with her eyes blank and empty. It wasn't like the hypnotized look that the watch gave—which is what confused Melinda.

  “Do not talk with the woman. Grab the watch.”

  Her voice was slow, robotic. It did not sound like Joan’s voice. It was deeper, slower, like she was trying to imitate someone else.

  She pushed Melinda aside and started scanning the interior of the house, head tilting this way and that.

  Melinda realized suddenly that the watch—stupid, so stupid—was right out in the open.

  “Grab it!” Melinda commanded her new slaves.

  The lithe, young Katie picked up a lamp, orgasming obviously at obeying. Belle, seeing her initiative, took the lamp in her hands as well, and they both smiled and thanked their Mistress for the privilege. Joan, meanwhile, saw the watch on the table and snatched it up.

  With no other recourse, Melinda tackled Joan. They tussled on the floor for several moments, tugging hair and pushing with one another.

  Finally, Melinda got the upper hand. She shoved Joan away and grabbed the watch.

  Melinda held it up, swinging triumphantly as its light filled the room—but it had no effect. Joan snatched it, examining it close. She sniffed it, like she was some animal. Nostrils flaring.

  “Grab the watch. Return home.”

  She pushed Melinda into the gathered slave girls and they all fell down in a tangle. Katie and Belle immediately tried to cover Melinda’s hot, flushed skin in kisses, insisting on their love for her. Roaring in frustration, she pushed them away.

  But she was too late. Joan was gone—and the watch with her.

  And so too was Melinda's perfect future.

  * * * * *

  For nearly an hour after her return, Joan’s mind was completely blank still, and totally obedient only to Warren.

  Warren, being a generous sort, of course took this opportunity to have her suck his cock like the good girl he wanted her to become. The second she woke, he wanted her to see him with the watch in his mind, thus wiping out any vestiges of resistance to his will. To this end, he had Edith kneeling next to Joan, her eyes blank and watching the watch.

  He hadn't told Edith to do anything specific—merely to look at him and orgasm like the hot, fuckdoll good girl he had turned her into. Edith, body trembling and throbbing against his leg, of course obeyed. She had been obeying for close to an hour, now, tranced the entire time, her eyes blank of anything but worship, in the deepest hypnotic trance ever created. Warren wondered idly if it was unhealthy, and then he remembered all the times Edith had laughed at Joan's jokes about him, and encouraged her to orgasm harder.

  Joan, meanwhile, sucked mindlessly, her face absolutely blank as she worked up and down his pole. Warren watched her closely, having cum twice now already at the sight of his gorgeous sister's beau
tiful face—that face he had wanted to own for so very long—at his utter beck and call.

  Fuck, but it made him hard to watch a totally empty-minded vessel serve him like this. Catherine and Tasia stood behind him, safely outside of the radius despite all their protestations of wanting to serve like his sister and her lover. He didn't care what Catherine and Tasia wanted, though—he was in charge, now, like it should be. Besides, he would let them have their way soon enough.

  There was a knock at the front of the warehouse.

  Warren sighed. “So soon,” he shook his head. “I was wondering when Melinda would make her play. Catherine...be a dear.”

  “Yes, Sir. Master. Master, Sir. Yes. I'll get it.”

  He smiled at her fumbling, turning to watch her excellent ass in the tiny spandex outfit Tasia had dressed her in. Her pale skin, combined with that thick red hair, looked devilishly hot.

  After a few moments of straightening, he had pulled his pants up and stopped swinging the watch. Elsa collapsed to the ground, gasping and moaning.

  “M-Master...” she croaked. “Oh, Master, my Master...”

  Her hands stretched outward toward him. She was being a good girl. He'd have to remember to fuck her for her service later. Joan, meanwhile, was still mindlessly moving her jaw up and down in the air, sucking at air.

  “Cease,” he told her, “rest.”

  He pushed her down into Edith's arms on the arranged mattress, who immediately wrapped her body around her lover's, kissing and spilling tears of joy.

  Sliding a hand into Tasia's delectable ass cheeks, he approached the front office of the warehouse, ready to accept Melinda's surrender. Only, it wasn't Melinda standing in the office—it was, once again, was Larry with his girl Barbara.

  Larry was Warren's loan shark. He was a mean, stout man, fully capable of hurting others for a living. He was the sort you would see in a crime movie and immediately peg as the jerk who would do something terrible to the protagonist's family later on, and smile about it.

  Barbara was dressed up, if it was even possible, to look hotter than she had the day before. Her tiny tweed skirt barely covered her ass, and her midriff-baring pink sweater hugged her tits so tightly that if they were alive, they’d be suffocating. The effect was immediate on Warren, who felt his blood rising as his eyes fixated on the long, gentle turn of her neck down to her oversized breasts. Little droplets of highly conditioned hair swirled around her lovely, doll-like face, resting around her shoulders in liquid chestnut curls.

  Larry tore his lascivious eyes off of Catherine—looking so lovely in her own tiny outfit—and ground one fist into his palm.

  “You got my money, magician? I want my money.”

  “It’s Friday, Larry. I owe you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t care what day it is. I want my money, and I want it now. Or do I gotta teach you another lesson in respect?”

  “You know what, Larry? I do have something for you. Come right in.” He gestured. “Give me a second, all right?”

  Larry walked into the back, Barbara on one arm. Immediately, his eyes widened at the sight of the naked Edith salivating on the mattress as she watched Warren move. She rubbed her cunt furiously against the blank, motionless body of Joan, grinding her clit into Joan's back thigh.

  “Hey, uh...I didn’t mean to interrupt...whatever this is.” Larry put a hand to his chin, looking at Catherine and Tasia with a new light. “You know, maybe we could forget about some of the interest on your payments if uh, you know, you’re willing to be a good Samaritan and share a little?”

  “Larry!”

  “Shut up, Barbara. The men are talking.”

  “Y-yes, Sir.”

  Warren twitched at that. Barbara quieted instantly, like a dog beaten too regularly. Despite everything, he had no tolerance for a person living in fear. A man had to have some lines of morality, and his were drawn there. Despite all his other faults, all Warren was really doing was having the time of his life making these beautiful women have the time of their lives. They came constantly, their minds always pleasured, their bodies in constant, happy ecstasy. Obedience to him was pleasure, not terror.

  He let the watch slide down his grip, holding it like a grappling hook, or a flail. “Larry, I have something to tell you.”

  “If it ain’t my money, I ain’t interested in hearing it.”

  “It’s better than money.”

  He and Barbara laughed. “There ain’t no such thing, sonny boy. Sorry to be the one to break it to you.”

  The watch in Warren’s hand felt justified. It felt right. Tasia and Catherine obediently walked behind Warren, knowing what was coming.

  “Of course there is, Larry. Here, have a look.”

  “Look at...at...that?”

  In seconds, both Barbara and Larry were following the swinging watch with their eyes, utterly hypnotized. Totally under Warren's control.

  Warren considered for a moment. His first impulse was to humiliate Larry somehow. Make him pay for his terrible manners. But Warren had gotten himself into that situation. He had taken out money from Larry. He knew the risks. It would be asinine to humiliate him publicly—and would draw too much attention.

  He could use some muscle, however. One kept well in-check not even by his own hand, but by Barbara’s.

  “I want you both to imagine that the two of you are together in a theater,” he began. “You know there are other people in the theater, but you can’t really focus on them. They don’t matter. All that matters is what shows up on the screen.

  “On the screen, you can see me. Me, and all my girls. The girls you know, just by looking, that I deserve. There’s not a doubt in your mind. You love this story. You want it be real. It entrances you totally. You’re caught up in the world. A fanboy for everything about it. You want to daydream all day long about this luscious world and all its possibilities. Who will I fuck next? Who will be worthy enough to serve me? You think all day about it.

  “But you both know that the two of you are in a very special, very exclusive club. You’re both the true fans, the real fans, while other people aren’t in on it. They don’t understand. Either they can’t, because they’re not enlightened enough, or they don’t want to. Either way, you know that people outside our special little club—the club that includes me as a performer, my girls as my special acts, and yourselves as the fans—people outside of us, they won’t get it like you do. They won’t respect it. You have to protect it.

  “You need to protect me. It’s very important that you do. You know that the best way to protect me...” Warren grinned, stroking Barbara's lovely face. “...the best way to protect me is if Barbara is in charge. Barbara’s loyalty to me is absolute. She’ll fuck me anytime I want. She’s a true fangirl. And the two of you share your love of what I do, and you know how important fucking one another is to feel the worship of me in your veins. Barbara will only ever think of me while she cums. And meanwhile, Larry, you’ll only think of how good it is that you’re doing what you were made for. Fucking at my command. Living at my order. That’s what people are really meant to do. You know it, but you know it’s a secret. The movie makes it all so clear. You can see the narrative playing out, threads of story sliding over your mind and making them absolute.”

  He went on for a little while, reinforcing this narrative thread of obedience and loyalty, of the authority that Barbara held over Larry. Just to drive it all home, he slid Barbara down to her knees and had her start sucking Larry's thick, long cock.

  It was strange, but it got him hard, watching the tranced Barbara slowly, expertly, suck on Larry’s cock. Her lips were thick and pillowy, colored the same bright, cheer pink as his outfit. It was the power of it, Warren realized. Making others do what he wanted. Barbara was so absolutely under his control that even now, as she sucked Larry's cock, she thought she was blowing Warren. That's why her muted, happy moans were so joyful and enthusiastic.

  Ultimately, Larry came down Barbara's throat just as they both we
re exiting the trance. Barbara swallowed it all, wiped her mouth, and stood up calmly.

  “That was pretty good, right, Sir?”

  Warren nodded. “You did beautifully, Barbara. Now, about that money I owe you...”

  “It's disappeared. Gone. You won't have to worry about a thing. Larry will take care of it.”

  Fumbling with his still spurting cock, Larry finally seemed to notice that Warren was watching. Coughing and flushed, he arranged himself back into his pants.

  “Oh, I guess we should leave? You don’t want us in your office, huh boss? I guess we should just—“

  “Shut up, Larry,” said Barbara. “The adults are talking.”

  Larry gulped, a hangdog look on his face. His eyes went down to the ground. “Yes, ma'am.”

  Barbara gifted him with a cool smile and turned back to Warren. “Is there more for now? Or shall we return to the theater and see that it's properly secured for you?”

  An ideal servant, that was what he had tranced Barbara as. Gone was the ditzy exterior, a security measure to live in a world populated by who-knew-how-many-Larrys. All that was left now was this calm, serene beauty, completely assured in her service to Warren.

  “Yes,” he said. “That sounds good. Run along.”

  Barbara hummed happily with the order, and the two left, Barbara tugging Larry along by his earlobe all the while for speaking out of turn.

  There. That was done.

  * * * * *

  Shortly after Larry retreated, Catherine asked for a word with Warren. He had almost immediately pushed Tasia down to her knees, enjoying a soft, lick-heavy handjob from the young beauty.

  Warren smiled at her. “What is it, my dear?”

  Catherine loved how it was easy to call women by such demeaning titles when he owned so many. It wouldn’t be long before he owned Catherine completely—he had been saving her for last. With her enthusiasm for the process, he had been excited by the prospect of getting her input on how exactly she wanted her mind to be totally fucked over by his will. She was delighted to provide this for him.