Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... STANDARD WARNING This story is of an erotic nature, I wouldn't dream of telling you what you can or can't read but if the law, in your part of the world, says you must not read this sort of fiction then please go read something that they'll let you. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------- Miserable Monica by Duke of Ramus A Piece of my Imagination --------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------- Monica was the senior secretary, and the oldest of the female staff, in the company I was working with. Monica was in her late forties and had been with the firm for over twenty years, longer, in fact, than the office junior, Emma, had been alive and she was as miserable as sin. Now whether she had always been like this or it was something that her, rather turbulent, life had forced upon her was open to debate, and it must be admitted that we did debate this on a Friday lunch-time down at the pub. Most of the women where of the opinion that Monica was a bitch, that she always had been and always would be a bitch. This may have had something to do with the fact that as the oldest, and longest serving, she tried to dominate anything within the company concerning the women. She did this regardless of whether she was involved or not, uniforms for the factory floor, where the next social event should be held, whether a young girl should be taken on, all fell within her remit as far as she was concerned. As you can imagine this attitude, and the abrupt way she put her point across, upset most of the girls. The men had a slightly different point of view. Yes, she was a bitch and a miserable sod and she did spend most of her time moaning about anything and everything, but and it was a big but, her tits were about size 40D, which did tend to distract us somewhat. Unfortunately for us she kept them well covered at all times. Now I'm a mutant, a genetic freak, both of my parents had the ability to influence people by the power of their minds, not very much, just an ability to bend peoples will to a more agreeable state. This was a conscious ability, not something that just happened, they knew they could do it and had used this power to improve their lives, and mine. This ability had been reinforced in me, I could, just by thinking at a person, get them to do whatever I wanted, and unlike hypnosis I could actually change the way people acted and felt permanently. My parents had educated me well in the cautious use of my abilities, pointing out that there were limits to what I could do and how many I could control at once. Their experiences had saved me from many disasters as I'd made my way through my early years. They were on hand when I discovered how twisted and dark the mind of even the most outwardly honest and kind person could be, when I was shocked to find how much time people spent dwelling on sex, and much of it what, even they themselves, would call perverted and shocking. They offered me strength and support when I needed it, before letting me free to live my life the way I wanted. I had used my powers to get my business started, it came in useful for cutting out the bullshit that many people sprouted when you asked what were simple questions. It gave you the ability to actually provide what your customers wanted not what their mouth's said they wanted, because of this my company became well respected and grew. I was able to pick and choose my staff carefully, knowing in advance what their personal plans were, I was able to 'help' them achieve better results by solving some of their internal problems, this enabled them to become part of a successful team and allowed the company to reach a size I was happy with. Now I could pick and choose my customers and only did what work was required to keep me comfortable and the company profitable, without having to worry about it. I was working for the company Monica worked for as a part time consultant on their computer systems, two or three days a week I went in and helped keep the system running smoothly, I would sort out new hardware and help with any problems that the users had, and as Monica was a user of one of the machines I'd felt the sharp edge of her tongue more than once, often because of things she herself had done wrong. One final attack of verbal abuse over the results of another of her mistakes had finally succeeded where most other people had failed, she had managed to make me angry and so I started to plot my revenge, to actual set about to 'correct' her social failings, (OK get my own back). Having sat and planned for a while, my parents training having made me cautious, I had decided that she needed to be humiliated, publicly, with as many people who she had bullied or abused present as possible before I adjusted her mind to a more agreeable form. This required that everybody from work be present and the easiest way of achieving this was at a works function of some sort with me invited to attend. I approached all the right people and made my suggestions to them and a summer dinner/dance was arranged. I had to do a bit of leaning on people to get them to agree to the party being a solo affair, no partners to be present, except for those who were both employed by the company. I had decided that Monica's downfall was to be a two part operation, in the first she would be seen to criticise people for their behaviour, and the second part, obviously, was for her to perform in the same way, or even worse. I had already decided who my accomplices were going to be, even if they didn't know it yet, the first was Monica's former husband, well one of them anyway, he used to work for the company but had left to set up his own engineering business, he'd left Monica at the same time. He still did work for the company and so got an invite in the same way that I had. He was a bit of a lad, very fit and enjoyed flaunting his body, I was just going to help him along a little. The second set of unwitting accomplices were a couple who worked for the company. They had been going out together for a year or so and were as horny as hell, they had difficulty keeping their hands off each other at work so there should be no problems helping them to perform after a couple of drinks. All I had to do now was wait for the function to come around, and that did prove difficult, I found I was enjoying the feeling of anticipation, probably more than I was going to enjoy the actual act. I was even being nice to Monica, which I think worried her a little. The big night eventually came upon us. My first instruction was to Monica before we left work on the Friday, I told her that she would be dressed as sexily as she could for the party and to definitely wear stockings. She, of course didn't know that she had been instructed, she would just decide it was a good idea when she was getting ready to go out. I arrived early to ensure that I got the sort of seat I wanted, I was going to have a good time and I didn't want to miss any of the entertainment. I watched as people arrived, you could se many of them flirting with their colleagues, something that wouldn't have happened if their partners had been present. Monica showed up about half an hour after I'd got there, I'd already got Emma and a couple of the other girls to sit at my table so when Monica made her way towards us it seemed perfectly normal. Monica had dressed in a blue suede suit consisting of a wrap around skirt and matching blouse, she was wearing four inch high heels and a leather handbag, all in matching blue, a very expensive looking outfit. I knew she was wearing stockings because I had told her to but you couldn't tell that when she walked towards us. She had shoulder length dark wavy hair which nicely framed her face, her boobs pushed the blouse forward making a very pleasant valley for us men to gaze down, if you could get close enough. The evening started very well, we were sat around the table, drinking, waiting for the entertainment to begin, Monica was on vodka and orange whilst I had a single lager shandy, I was definitely staying sober tonight. The compare came on stage and the evening's fun began, we had a comedian who wasn't to bad a group then took the stage and invited us all to dance whilst they played. Monica passed a few bitchy comments about the two girls who fronted the band, they being blonde and wearing short skirts meant that they were bimbo's as far as Monica was concerned. The group was on stage for three quarters of an hour, and at the end of their first session Monica was telling anybody who would listen how bad they where. We were spared slightly when the meal was served, but she kept up a steady stream of complaints throughout the meal, she also kept drinking, quite a bit more than she realised. By the time the meal was finished she was totally pissed, I stopped her drinking anymore at that stage, I didn't want her to pass out before she'd had her little performance now did I. Once the meal had been cleared away we all settled down for the bands next session. Monica could clearly be heard moaning as they took to the stage, a lot of people, including the band were giving her evil looks but she seemed oblivious to them. The band started it's act and most people, away from Monica, seemed to be enjoying it, her ex-husband took to the dance floor and started to strut a few of the younger girls started to add vocal encouragement to his show, urging him to 'ger em off' I gave him the faintest of nudges and away he went. First his shirt was whirled around his head, eventually ending up flying in the direction of his chair, then he hoped around as his shoes and socks came off, then he undid his belt and everybody cheered when he approached Emma, hooked his belt around her neck and led her onto the dance floor. From where I was sat I could see him giving her instructions so when he moved back from her slightly she went down on her knees and started to undo his trousers, his audience were chanting 'Yes, Yes, Yes...' in time with the music. Just as his trousers hit the floor, and before Emma, or anyone else for that matter, can get near him Monica goes charging onto the dance floor, bowls Emma over and grabbing her former hubby drags him away. The crowd that had gathered around jeered her as she left. People settled down and started to dance after that little bit of excitement and the band slowed the pace down, switching to smoochie tunes. Couples started to get together and you could see a lot of cuddling happening on the dance floor. My second set of accomplices were already up there and her tongue was so far down his throat I was surprised I couldn't see it sticking out of his bum. He had both of his hands under her blouse, having a slow, thorough feel of her tits, as he moved his hands around her back I could see her stiff nipples showing through the material of her top. As the time went by I lowered their inhibitions a touch and he started to undo her blouse, she had her hands working on the front of his trousers, squeezing his stiff prick. Her tits had just popped out and her hand had slid inside his trousers when Monica walked back into the hall, she went ballistic, calling the poor girl every type of slut under the sun, such was her belief in her power that everybody just stood there and let her do it. The two of them left with the girl in tears, Monica stamped over to her table, seething, people turned their backs on her as she moved past. She slammed into her seat and grabbed her drink, now was the time to start, I moved into her mind and pulled all the right levers, as she gulped at her drink her body became infused with the alcohol, it having a much greater effect than it would normally have done. She blinked hard and looked around, I watched, silently amused as she put down her drink and gave her tits a quick squeeze, her nipples perked up under this treatment. A quick thought at the leader of the band and then back to Monica, who clambered to her feet and then, unsteadily, up onto the table, she tottered there and looked around. People started to notice, and stopping what they were doing watched her, swaying, again she squeezed her tits and then the band started to play 'the stripper'. Monica just went with the music, her fingers went between the buttons on her blouse, gripping the edges she tore it open, her arms coming swinging backwards where she dropped the tattered remains of her blouse behind her. Her hands returned to her tits, which were now covered by a beautiful, blue lacy bra, she forced them together, jiggling them up and down for everybody to see. She slipped her hands behind her and unclasped it. She then pointed her arms straight out ahead of her and then, with her legs held straight she started to bend from the waist, as though she was touching her toes, the bra was pushed from her body by the weight of her magnificent boobs before dropping off her arms onto the floor, she jerked back upright her tits bouncing in front of her. She spun around, her eyes lidded, allowing everybody to see her splendid tits, then her hands moved to the side of her skirt and after a little fiddling she released the clasp holding it shut. She twisted the skirt around her hips, bringing the split to the front and then moved it around the back, giving everyone a quick flash of her stocking tops. She removed the skirt like you would pull the string from a top, spinning herself around with the skirt held at arms length in one hand. Her G string matched the bra, just a little piece of lace at the front and a piece of string which disappeared, invitingly, between the cheeks of her arse. She dropped her skirt on top of her blouse before parading around the edge of the table, looking down at all her colleagues who were clapping and encouraging her to continue. She stopped facing me and then with her legs spread shoulder width she again bent forward until she could look back through her legs, she then slipped her thumbs into the elastic of her G string before pulling it down, it caught at her crutch and so the elastic was pulled tight down to her knees, she gave a little shimmy and the elastic snapped down to her ankles. Still bent over she stepped out of her knickers and ran her hands over her bum cheeks, parting them for her audience. As she stood back up her hands moved over her pussy, giving it a quick rub before she turned around her arse now pointing at me. She stepped back to the middle of the table and started to sway with the music, moving up and down, her feet stationary on the table. On the table, between her legs, was a wine bottle, on one of her journeys downwards her pussy touched the top of the bottle. She looked down, smiled and then shuffled sideways slightly, then she positioned herself carefully before staring to insert the bottle into her pussy. The people watching started to applaud, which just encouraged her to move faster. As she raised her pussy off the bottle you could see where her juices had smeared the neck of the bottle, she kept dipping lower and lower, more and more of the bottle getting coated as she performed. A chant of 'more, more...' went up and Monica responded by sinking lower still. Suddenly she stopped moving, her stomach could be seen rippling and her mouth was wide open, unlike her eyes which she'd screwed shut. She held this position for about thirty seconds before her eyes slowly opened, a smile crossed her face and she slowly started to move again. Monica now seemed determined to get the whole of that bottle into her cunt, she was covered in sweat, little rivers trickling down between her tits and her arse cheeks, her mouth open, dragging in gulps of air each time she dropped down on the bottle. Then and almighty cheer went up as her arse hit the table, the bottle totally engulfed in her cunt. She held that position a smile on her face before slowly starting to rise, but this time she clamped the bottle in her cunt, you could just see the base, a green circle with her pussy lips stretched around it. When she was upright she turned round slowly, bent slightly forward so that everybody could see that the bottle was fully swallowed. Once she'd done the full turn she squatted back down , and with a show of stomach muscle, ejected the bottle back on to the table. A torrent of her juices followed the bottle, soaking the surface of the table. Monica stood back up, and after giving her appreciative audience a curtsy, climbed down off the table. She grabbed her clothes and moved over to where I was sat, she pulled on her blouse then wrapped the skirt back around her waist, the rest of her clothes she stuffed into her handbag before sitting down opposite me. Once she was seated took a firm grip of her mind and allowed her to realise what she had just done, I felt the shock that coursed through her as each event was replayed in her mind. I held her mouth firmly shut but her head was allowed to turn, and she frantically scanned the people around us. She was rewarded with a great many smiles and even the odd wink, but nobody seemed to disapprove of what had happened. I made her compare what she had done with what she had been stopping others doing earlier, made her realise how much of a hypocrite she now looked, I heaped humiliation on humiliation, torturing her battered mind until I felt a final shudder as her defences to her spirit crumbled. From here I started to re-build her in, what I hoped, would be a better form, more caring and forgiving that she had been for such a long time. This wasn't going to be a quick job, and I knew that it would take more than one session, but the major changes I could do now. Her speed of verbal response was slowed down, to allow her time to think before she spoke, her willingness to listen to others was increased as was her amusement level, she would now listen to people, think, realise that they were joking and so not dive down their throats. Her sex drive was also tweaked, or to be more precise her inhibitions were lowered, Monica had obviously been hurt in the past and had built a wall between her sexual self and the outside world, this was now lowered quite considerably. All that was left now was for her to meet the new Monica, so I said "Monica, would you like to dance with me." Whenever I'd suggested something similar before she'd just scowled and brushed me off, this time she looked at me and, with a strange glow in her eye's, slowly nodded, yes she would. Monica's future now looked a lot happier, as was mine, one of the consequences of the number of sessions it took for me to complete her change meant that we became very good friends, maybe I'll tell you about some of our adventures sometime.