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From: corvidae1@aol.com (Corvidae1)
Subject: "Control Subject" (Fdom, mc)
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Disclaimers: 

If you're underage and/or sexual material is illegal where you live, stop
reading this.

If you find stories involving sex and/or dominance and submission offensive,
please stop reading (though one wonders what you're doing here in the first
place!)

All rights reserved.  Reposting and archiving is permitted, so long as you cite
authorship and don't charge anything for the privilege.

Special Thanks to Tigger for general advice and support. And, as always, my
sweet and spicy Lady Sara.
 
* * * *

Control Subject

By L. Corvidae

   The chair was not unlike the kind you'd find in a dentist's office - except
for the straps. I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could, easing myself
into the plastic covered cushions as Nurse Johnston finished pulling the last
of said straps tight.

   A foam-padded "crown" kept my head locked into a position where I could only
stare straight ahead, which was a pity, since it meant that I saw very little
of the pretty young nurse as she went about her activities.

   "You know," I quipped, feeling more than a little agitated, "I thought this
was just going to be counseling or something."

   Nurse Johnston hovered back into view for a moment and favored me with a
warm, sweet smile.

   "You can get 'counseling' anywhere, Mr. Talbot," she informed me with her
charming, songbird voice. "Our clinic offers results."

   "I.. I know... it's just... I'm feeling awfully nervous right now, I gotta
tell you!"

   "I'm sure you are, Mr. Talbot," she replied, still as sweet as ever. "That's
why you came here, because you were afraid. Afraid to live out your very
special kind of dreams."

   The pulse in my temples sounded like the galloping hooves of a herd of
buffalo.

   "I know... it's just..." Squirming around in my special "couch" I was
suddenly acutely aware of just how tremendously restrictive all those straps
were.

   "It's just that you're afraid now, and you want to stop. Of course. It
happens all the time."

   "It does?" I asked, suddenly flooded with relief.

   "Oh, yes," she assured me.

   "Then... we can stop, you'll let me go?" I asked hopefully.

   "Don't be silly, Mr. Talbot. You're already in the catalog."

   "Catalog? What catalog?"

   "For the auction, of course."

   "Auction? Nobody said anything about an auction! Please, you have to let me
go!" Panic was creeping into me laike a fog rolling off the bay. My heart was
racing like a runaway train.

   "When you came here, we guaranteed that you'd end up in the D&S relationship
you'd always dreamed of, but were always too afraid to pursue, did we not?"

   "I thought you offered some kind of matchmaking service! Jesus Christ,
nobody said anything about *selling* me!"

   "You hardly need to get so upset, Mr. Talbot." The calm in her voice had
somehow transmuted from soothing to terrifying. "It's not like you'll be
shipped of to some brothel in Thailand. We screen our prospective buyers even
more assiduously than we do our clients, I assure you. Most are really just
average women who are tired of all the bullshit between the sexes and just want
a man they can be assured will be faithful, considerate and obedient. The
Dommes who want a piece of meat that can't safeword only make up about ten
percent of our clientele, fifteen, tops."

   I began to wail.

   "Now, now, crying won't do you any good," she chided me. 

   I was still trying fruitlessly to escape from the clinic's fiendish chair
when she swung what looked like a TV set mounted on a swivel arm into view.
With a flick of the switch, the screen flickered to life, presenting me with
the incongruous image of one of those cursed "Have a nice day" smiley faces.

   "Please," I begged, "whatever you're going to do to me... don't!"

   Nurse Johnston just smiled as winsomely as ever and leaned over me. Her
breast brushed tantalizingly against my forearm while she gave me a tender kiss
on the forehead.

   "See you on the other side, Mr. Talbot," she said, and then turned up the
volume....

* * * * * * * * 

   I stood with a rigidity that dedicated Marine Corps drill instructors would
appreciate. I was aware, of course, of my nakedness, and also acutely aware of
the small room filled with softly chattering women, just beyond the curtain.

   A strong, feminine voice called the group to order, and began to speak.

   "Thank you all for coming this morning, ladies. We appreciate you taking the
time to attend this small lecture on our product before you go today's auction
and make a purchase. It really does help you get an understanding of what we're
about here, as well as what, exactly, you'll be buying in to. Anyway, it's our
tradition to use the one subject whose taken to the imprinting the strongest
and use him as our 'demo model,' so without further ado, allow me to introduce
male, catalog number 575!"

   A voice at my ear whispered, "walk!" and I found myself striding out onto a
small platform in front of a group of fifty or so women. At least, I assume
they were women by their voices. Bright lights shining up at me made the whole
venue beyond the stage dark and shadowy.

   The air was filled with ooh's and ahhh's and even a few sharp whistles.
Chuckling good-naturedly, the clinic's spokesperson requested that the crowd
settle down a bit so that she could demonstrate  my "features."

   "Notice the way 575's cock just hangs there, limply?" she said to a chorus
of catcalls. "How many times have you wished you could do *this* ?"

   I remember hearing her say a word, but the moment that word settled into my
brain, it melted away like a snowflake before the sun. Suddenly, I could feel
my cock begin to stiffen and rise as the crowd voiced their amazement.

   "And, of course, how many times do you wish you could do *this,* too!"

   She said another word and just as suddenly my cock began to shrink again,
until it was once more dangling flaccid and useless between my legs. There was
much laughter and many cheers.

   "But don't take my word for it ladies, let's put 575 to the test!"

   Applause greeted the lecturer's suggestion and from behind the same curtain
where I'd emerged, now came a nubile young beauty, every bit as naked as I was.
Her full, firm tits jiggled as she flounced across the stage to intercept me,
and there were even a few "boo's" from jealous audience members.

   When she reached me, she stopped and suddenly bent forward, grabbing her
ankles. Bent over as she was, I had a perfect view of her firm, smooth ass and
her wet, succulent, young pussy. She waggled her tail suggestively just inches
away from where my cock continued to dangle loosely.

   Having failed to arouse me on sheer visual splendor alone, she righted
herself, and moved in to kiss and suckle at my nipples. Slowly, with practiced
ease, she drifted down my abdomen, and finally took my wet noodle cock into her
mouth.

   At that moment, my muscles locked me into place every bit as rigidly as the
straps on the chair had. Her mouth was like an oven, a seething pit of burning
acid; and a million piranhas bit at my manhood.

   Unable to pull away, or even give voice to the horrible pain I was enduring,
I simply scrunched my face up into a grotesque mask of purest agony.

   "I forgot to mention our other little 'control' feature: any woman other
than you - hurts."

   A low ripple of impressed murmuring went through the crowd as I suffered a
thousand fiery agonies to my cock. Mercifully, the lecturer called off my
tormentor, and as she pulled away, the assemblage gasped in amazement as my
cock, despite her most skilled ministrations, remained as loose and useless as
a dead worm.

   "Yes? You, there."

   "Can you make it so it hurts when they're with us? The owner?"

   "Yes, if you wish. In stage two you can fine tune his sensitivity as high or
as low as you desire. For instance, if you'd like to fuck his nice hot hardon
without him ever feeling a thing, that can be programmed, too."

   More impressed rumblings.

   "What about him touching himself? I mean, I'm not holding it for him when he
pees!" 

   Laughter.

   "We give them the 'punishment' encoding because it seems to give most women
considerable peace of mind to know that their male won't even want to *think*
about having sex with another woman! But yes, he can hold himself while he
pees. He just can't have an erection or even an orgasm without your say-so."

   "But we all just heard the words you used to command him. Aren't they all
coded the same?"

   "In stage two he will be coded to your specific voice pattern as well as
your own personalized set of command codes. That way, if someone else were to
accidentally say your code word for 'get hard' at a tea party, you won't be
embarrassed."

   Still more laughter.

   "You'll have the opportunity to code all sorts of behavior in your male in
stage two. You can make them go blind, deaf, cause them to stop breathing - for
all you breath control fans out there. It's all included in the price, so don't
worry about that."

   "You said we could control his orgasm!"

   "Would you like to see?"

   "Yes! Yes!" the crowd cried

   "Well, first, let's turn him to the side, so this doesn't turn into a
Gallager concert!"

   The reality of everything that was happening around me was slowly beginning
to settle in. This was no dream! These... women... had the ability to make me
do *anything!* My heart was again beating furiously in my chest and my mind was
drowning in fear. Oh, sweet Jesus, I was a fucking slave! An automaton, with no
will of his own. I wanted to scream for help, plead for mercy, but no one would
give me the command to speak!

   She said that word again, my *command* for becoming hard. Then, a second
later, she gave me *another* command. The sperm shot from my penis in a thick,
syrupy explosion. At least - at *least* - they hadn't programmed out the
massive endorphin rush that accompanied cumming. In fact, it was the only time
my preprogrammed discipline wavered even the slightest as my body trembled,
ever so slightly, at the moment of orgasm.

   "Do it again!" an audience member cried.

   "Again! Again!" they chanted.

   "Okay, just remember, there's a reason God didn't give men the capacity for
multiple orgasms."

   She gave me my cum command again, and my body endured a second, if lessened,
jolt of unmitigated pleasure.
 
   Suddenly a member of the audience called out the command, too, and I was
thrust into a third unbidden climax. This time, however, the pleasure was
accompanied by a sensation I'd never felt before: a hard, sharp stabbing pain
in my testicles, as if someone had stuck me there with an icepick. Cold, stark
terror filled my heart, and once again only my face showed any signs of
distress.

   "Okay, now, no more of that," the lecturer chided. "If you want to torture
somebody, buy them at the auction, this afternoon."

   "Now," she continued, "for those of you who are *real* control mavens, we
offer similar coding for *all* biological functions. Of course, in such a case
it's essential that you take your responsibilities as maleowner, *very*
seriously!"

   "How do we know they won't just snap out of it someday and, God, I don't
know, kill us or something?"

   "Our subliminal encoding technique is especially effective because we only
use it on males who already feel a desire to be dominated on a deeper,
subconscious level. They simply have been unable to overcome all the societal
counterprogramming that tells them they are somehow 'wrong' for feeling the way
they feel. Also, we do extensive psychological profiling beforehand, and any
specific concerns or 'triggers' we might have uncovered are listed in the
catalog. Specifically, we make a point to indicate which individuals will
perform better in the long run in a firm, but affectionate environment, and
which will do better in an abusive one."

   "You also list their sperm count, too!" someone called out, sparking edgy
laughter.

   "A lot of our buyers are interested in a perfect father as well as a perfect
lover. We felt that would be the best way to give them what they want. Are
there any more questions?"

   A soft voice, from very near the front of the crowd asked, "What about
love?"

   "How do you mean?"

   "You can make them *do* all theses things, but can you make them *feel*
things as well, specifically, love."

   "You know, it's funny. I don't think that's ever come up before. I suppose
the question is, 'what's the difference?' I mean, if he does all the things
that a man who loves you would do, what does it matter how he really feels
inside?"

   The woman didn't answer, and the Q&A session ended. Someone told me where to
go, and I did.

* * * * * * * *

   Waiting in line before the pre-sell exhibition, I stood a perfect, rigid
attention as a parade of curious women drifted down the line of fifty of us or
so. They would pause, briefly, check out my entry in the catalog; and
occasionally give a command or two.

   One woman shrieked at me when I came all over her new shoes.

   "Silly bitch," her friend said, laughing. "Shouldn't have told him to do
that!"

   As I waited for the auction to come around and my fate to be sealed, I
slowly began coming to terms with my situation. The truth was, the clinic's
spokesperson had been right: on some deep, subconscious level I *had* always
wanted to give myself over completely to a woman. Of course, like anybody else,
I had wanted to be able to *choose* who that woman would be, not have someone
thrust upon me by outrageous fortune. Still, Nurse Johnston had been right,
too. Most of the women I saw *did* seem pretty normal, and most were fairly
attractive; each in their own way.

   I wondered if my new owner would ever allow me to talk to them, to speak
with them, to let them see a little of the person I had been before I'd become
their... toy. You would think having a robot around who always only said and
did what you told them to would get boring after a while.

   But maybe they'd just take a real lover and leave me behind at home to do
the dishes and mop the floors.

   Because I was locked into position, I could not see the cold, wet thing,
just below my field of vision, as it pressed itself rudely into my exposed
crotch.

   "King, no!" a soft, feminine voice called out plaintively. I had a quick
glimpse of a pretty face, with dark sunglasses and blonde hair, before she
disappeared from view altogether. It occurred to me that her voice sounded
almost exactly like the girl in the audience who had asked about love.

   Had it been her? I couldn't say. I stood, pondering the issue for a long
time until at last I heard them call out "Male 575!" and I found myself walking
out onto another stage, only to be blinded by another set of lights.

   The bidding was done by pushing a button on the arm of one's chair, which
caused a little green light to flash. Because of my "celebrity" as the "demo
model," there were quite a few green flashes at first, but that soon diminished
as my price went steadily higher.

   Finally, like Daisy's light, there was but one lone green star in the
darkness, and I was pronounced, "SOLD!" I was led offstage, and down a corridor
to another suite of rooms with the same chairs as before. Even Nurse Johnston,
was there; pleasant and lovely as ever as she strapped me back into the seat.
This time, however, she didn't bring on the screen right away, but rather put
an IV drip into my arm. It usually took a day or two, she cheerfully informed
me, before my new owner would iron out all the parameters she wanted encoded
into my brain for stage two.

   So, I waited. 

* * * * * * * *

   "Honey, I'm home!"

   The sound of Leslie's voice caused my heart to swell to the point where it
almost burst. I ran immediately from the kitchen to the front hall, just to get
a glimpse of her.

   King, of course, bounded into me as always, his long, straight tail wagging
furiously. Leslie moved a little more slowly, even though she knew her way
around the house backwards and forwards. A lifetime of bumping into and
tripping over things that "weren't supposed to be there" had taught her that.
Not that *anything* would be where it wasn't supposed to on *my* watch, but old
habits are hard to break.

   My whole body seemed to catch fire as we kissed. Had there ever been any
woman as beautiful born on earth?

   "What did you do today, my lovely?" she asked me.

   "I vacuumed and dusted the house, cleaned the bathrooms, mowed the lawn,
watered your flowers, downloaded that information you wanted from the internet
and converted it to Braille for you, and I fixed your favorite dinner,
vegetarian enchiladas!"

   She blessed me with one of her glorious smiles.

   "You have been a good boy today, haven't you?"

   I almost started to cry from the sheer joy of hearing her voice, let alone
that it would be so sweet and complementary of me!

   I could only vaguely remember a time in my life before she had been a part
of it, a part of me. It always seemed such a dark and unhappy time, so I gave
it little thought.

   "Well, since you've been good today, why don't you fix yourself and King
some nice, big bowls of Mighty Dog, all right, my pet?"

   I beamed, filled with joy.

   As always, I was allowed to set my bowl down next to Leslie's chair and eat
my supper at her feet. At one point, unable to contain myself any longer, I
looked up at her, totally uncaring of the gravy that was dribbling down my
chin.

   "I love you so much," I said.

   "I know my pet," she said, smiling quietly. "Believe me, I know."

The End ;)


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
"I've noticed that when we play games with girls,
 you get captured a lot." 
                 Calvin

"Some of us are just irresistable."
                  Hobbes


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