The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“What?! No fucking way, Nobes! This is tradition—you can’t back out! It’ll end the whole era!”

I sighed into my mangorita. Even that couldn’t cheer me up. I was probably the only guy who’d ever sucked one of these down without a smile on his face. “I know it, Jenksy. But it’s just, I can’t afford it. It’s embarrassing to it, but that’s God’s honest truth.”

“What? I thought things were tight at work! What happened?”

I shook my head irritably. “It’s not work. Well, not just work. I got in a little fender bender a couple months back, and it set me back bigtime.”

My old friend gaped. He knew I was a responsible sort, most of the time. “Oh shit! What happened? Nobody got hurt or anything, I hope?”

“No, I was totally fine. The other driver, this… let’s call her a ‘lady,’ she shows up at court with this laundry list of grievances—”

“Court? It went to court?!”

I chugged down some delicious salty mangorita. Mmm. The bar at this Applebee’s was my favorite bar in town, honest to god. “Yeah. I offered to pay the lady out of pocket, but she had to be a bitch about it—and you know I don’t use that word lightly.”

Jenks sucked the barbecue sauce from his caulibuffawingies off his fingers, talking as he slurped. “I know, brah. My boy Noble’s way too damn smart to get me-tooed by some smug cunt.” The bartender thought she hid the dirty look she gave him, but come on. She wasn’t even all that hot—a gentleman’s 6 at best. Who the hell was she going to give smug looks to? I swear, some women go around looking for excuses to get offended.

“But yeah, she had to go make a big case out of it. I was below the legal limit, but to hear her lawyer tell it, I’m some sort of menace to society. So yeah, between that and this promotion I was supposed to get that seems to have been stolen out from under me, I’m drowning. It sucks, man. Wish it’d been me who’d gotten t-boned—I’d be paying for the whole damn trip for the lot of us.”

“I know, man. But what’s going on at work, over at ACI? I thought you said it was in the bag. You put in your time, they couldn’t function without you, et cetera?”

I took another long sip and signaled our waitress. (Twice; you’d think she wasn’t hoping for a good tip the way she was spending all of her time on the table with that lady with the three kids and ignoring me and Jenksy.) I waved my swiftly emptying glass and gestured for another.

“Bah. On this one, it’s my own damn fault. They’re announcing the new IT manager next week. I was a shoe-in—they’ve been grooming me—but then…” I dove back into the slush that was left of my mangorita.

“Then…?”

“I’m ashamed to it it, but it was really just a case of venting at the wrong time, wrong place. OK, so I’m in the breakroom, talking to Elisabeth—she’s been there forever, pretty much totally obsolete but a super nice lady, big grandma vibes—and we got to talking about the promotion, and she asked if I wasn’t worried if was gonna go to this girl Jordana.”

“Jordana… That’s a hot name. Don’t spoil it for me with rebuttal.”

“No, she earns it. Here, check this out. This was her at the Christmas party.” I scrolled hastily through my photo gallery until I found the pic and slid it over. “Not fucking bad, eh? Not that I just see her as some hot babe or anything, of course. We’re coworkers, so it’s strictly looky no touchy. Just… right?”

Jenks ired the image for a lengthy moment, as a body like Jordana’s deserved. “Daaaamn. Looks like she wasn’t exactly posing though, brah.” He laughed and slid it back.

“Eh, she didn’t know what she wanted. Everybody was pretty blitzed that night. I know I was. But anyway, so Elisabeth asks if I’m not nervous, since Jordana’s chummy with our manager. Mentor and protégée, they call themselves, but all it really means is a private club for the big tit brigade. So yeah, I’m like ‘hell no! They’re not gonna promote somebody who suckered them into three months of time off in one year.’ Like, her parents died, sort of unexpectedly, so like I totally empathize, it must have been just awful, my heart goes out to her—but three months, Jenksy. And who do you think had to pick up all that slack?”

“My boy.”

“Exactly. Well, me and the rest of the team. And Sandra—that’s our boss, the so-called mentor, this tasty but super blah Asian chick—she did a ton of it. Which goes to show how biased she is. Kept trying to dump it off on us, but I didn’t sign up to do somebody else’s job. Especially not some lazy ho who can’t keep her shit together professionally when she lets her personal life blow up all over her workload.”

“Amen. You gotta be true to yourself. Dog eat dog, Nobe-dawg. But all that, it sounds like you should have the promotion dead to rights.”

“Right, right. So the problem was, I saw Elisabeth in Sandra’s office later that afternoon, and I just know she was snitching.”

“Snitching? For what?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you know I’m not a sexist or anything.”

He tapped his beer to my mangorita rim. “Totally.”

“But like, you know how women in the workplace can get. Pack mentality and all that. Like, the way Elisabeth looked at me, and then Sandra’s eyes went right after hers… I don’t know, but I just have this feeling, like she took what I said and turned it into some kind of slam, like I was saying Jordana needed time off because she’s a girl, like I said girls can’t handle their emotions professionally. Which is not at all how I phrased it, but I just know that’s what she said. And Jordana is really buddy-buddy with Sandra. I hear they even hang out outside of work, so you just know I don’t have an honest shot.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think, No-bro.”

“It’s worse. They’re like this, you know, fucking… hot girl boss bitch sisterhood thing. Like just because they both have big tits and decent faces—Sandra’s pretty hot, but Jordy hardly ever wears makeup, kind of a butterface.”

“Yuck.” He wiped a dribble of beer off his chin with his sleeve.

“They’re officially in this together. But they got that whole, ugh, mentorship thing, like Jordy can’t just do her job without trying to score some 1-on-1 suckup time with the boss, make a little clique like they’re still the hot chicks in high school. I’m not saying I don’t like working with women—I do, I so do, feel me?”

“Oh you know I feel you.”

I downed my mangorita, wincing at the delicious tartness. “But women bosses, every last one of them is a fuckin’—”

“Hey, fellas. How’s everything tonight? Everything satisfactory?” asked a sudden female voice over my shoulder. I turned to find the restaurant’s manager stepping around the corner. Shit. She probably heard me. I swear, I have such shit luck with the timing on that kind of thing. Nah, scratch probably; she definitely heard me, as her customer service smile was faltering in real time.

We assured her everything was fine—though I didn’t forget that I still didn’t have my third mangorita refill—and she waddled off. Not before she gave me this thinly veiled Look, though, but I guess without context it wasn’t fair to blame her.

“Anyway, yeah, between the chip Jordana’s had on her shoulder where yours truly is concerned ever since I hit on her—same party—and she got all pissed off even though it’s a compliment in my book, and then Sandra and her woke women empowerment trip…” I sighed. Then snapped my fingers impatiently at the bartender. Seriously lady, like your job is so hard? “I’m sunk. I just know it.”

“Man. That’s such bullshit, man. I… man. That sucks so much ass, man,” he commiserated over a mouthful of saucy wing. “Cabo. It won’t be the same without you. Aiden and Chris and Dobby and everybody are gonna be so bummed.”

I finally got my mangorita. Barkeep just set it down and didn’t even apologize. I demoted her to a 4 and mentally deducted another 10% from her tip. Generous tipping was something I prided myself on, but only if it was earned. “I wish I could. But I’m no beggar, you know? I may be a victim of reverse sexism, but I still got my pride.”

Jenks was quiet for a moment. Then I realized he was watching the game. Worthy. I had $200 riding on this one on DraftKings. (I know, gambling, but every man’s allowed one vice, right?)

Finally, on mangorita number six and beer number god knows what for Jenksy came another shovelful heaped atop my pile of misery. That manager lady came along and told us we were cut off, and needed to pay our bill and leave. We weren’t even yelling, really, and come on, who misses four fucking free throws in a row?! I was cursed. She was probably still just mad about her little misperception from earlier—though it only proved my point about women bosses. Not that I’d ever say that out loud or anything.

Jenks and I shuffled out to the parking lot with the manager b-word (see? I told you I don’t like to call women bitches) on our heels. She then planted herself in the Applebee’s doorway like a statue. She didn’t even offer to call a taxi or ride-share or whatever for us, even though she had every reason to think we needed it. I walked Jenksy to his car and asked—twice—if he was good to drive, which he said he was. I was skeptical, but not my place to tell him how to do. I was gonna have enough trouble with my own car. Good thing I hadn’t gone and gotten that breathalyzer installed yet. That judge was such a bitch.

“Fuckin’ Cabo, man,” he repeated. “Shit. Fuck your fucking boss, man. We should the Knife on her—” His eyes suddenly widened. “Shit! Fucking shit. Forget I said anything.”

Now there was something. Something I was in fact not going to forget.

Jenks, he wasn’t some basic corporate nobody like me. (Not to slight my own potential, mind you, but I’m humble enough to know where I stand, for now.) No, my buddy worked for one of the tiny bigtimes, one of those niche elite companies that do the big contracts for the big bucks. ACI had a government contract, but it was updating their payroll software for some of their civilian contractors. Boring as fuck, the kind of “so what do you do for a living” answer that doesn’t get you a second date. (That’s why I embellished sometimes, but I figured, if it was meant to be, they’d forgive me—maybe even thank me—for spicing up their life with a little fable or two or three.)

Jenks’ outfit, though, they had the kinds of government contracts where they did a profile on you, pried into his life and made sure he didn’t pal around with anybody with Russian or Chinese or Al Qaeda connections, that kind of thing. Beyond Top Secret. We pestered him about it all the time, kind of a running joke, but this was the first time he’d ever given even a whiff.

What the fuck was “the Knife?” And why did he say we should use it on Sandra? No, not use, . Some kind of malware, as a reprisal for ing me over? Spyware to ferret out some dirt on her? Or… what? There had been some kind of twinkle in his eye, but I didn’t know what to make of it.

Now, Jenks is my friend. I say that because I want to be clear, I’m not proud of what I did next. But he wouldn’t have slipped up like that if he didn’t deep down want to help a brother out. I honored that impulse on his part as I coaxed him into letting the good times roll, taking him out for a good old-fashioned titty bar crawl. Finally, when he was good and blitzed and had come in his pants at least twice under the grinding pelvis of this gorgeous Asian bitch with the hot little mosquiter bite titties…

“Shit, maybe we should use the Knife on her, too!” I laughed, raising my glass to the scowling stripper. Whatever. If you shell out double for a lap dance, a tiny little smack on the ass was pretty much your due, at least in my book. I watched her, but thankfully it had been enough she didn’t go full hypercunt and summon a bouncer.

Jenks’ head was reeling, his eyes glassed over. I hadn’t seen him this drunk since college. “What? The Knife? What’d you… Knife? I mean, what do you know about the Knife?”

“Just what you told me earlier, man.”

“I… told you… Yeah, right, I said… Shit, you can’t tell anybody about that, OK?”

“Of course, Jenksy! It’s me. Noble. You know you can tell me anything and I’ll take that shit to the grave.”

“No I know, Nobes! I know. You’re grood. Err, good. You’re like the mother I never brothered, or…” He stopped, laughed as he half-processed what he’d just babbled. “Fuck. But shit, yeah, we can’t tell anybody.”

“No yeah, never, never ever, brah.” I put an arm around him, kissed his sweaty forehead. “Tell them what, though, exactly…?”

Long story short, the Knife was basically what we all assumed the government’s been working on, namely, some seriously spooky subliminal mind control shit. Once Jenks got to talking, he couldn’t stop. Talking, and crying. He seemed pretty sure once this got out it was going to “end human civilization as we know it.” Really melodramatic about it. Men crying made me really uncomfortable, but I didn’t give him any shit or anything. I could give him one night of being a pussy in exchange for what he showed me.

Especially since he had a copy of it on his phone. Apparently it had been eating at his conscience for a while now, so much that he’d even been thinking of leaking shit to the press. I didn’t concern myself with the ethics of it—not my place—but I let him vent like a true brah.

I know, I know, it wasn’t right of me, but yeah, I waited until he fell asleep on my sofa and borrowed a copy. I was only curious—not like I was gonna actually do anything with it. And borrowed is the operative word here. I’d delete it as soon as I was done checking it out. I was a programmer like Jenks, something we’d bonded over back in our fraternity days, but like I said, he was next level. The code was too, way beyond my piddly skills. But the design was solid. Just install the malware on somebody’s phone, tablet, whatever; input some simple text on the app on your own device; and the Knife did the rest.

It was still in its infancy, he’d said, between sobs, as I drove us home. (Don’t worry, my drunk ass took the back roads. If I hit anything, it was just gonna be a deer or a raccoon or whatever.) Knifing took weeks of exposure, and even then, bad hearing, the fabric of the recipients’ pockets if you were doing it with a cell phone, fucking tinnitus, you name it, could fuck up the results, render it barely effectual. But if it did work, it could put an idea in somebody’s head.

“And I mean all the way in his head,” Jenks had said, sniveling. “I’m not part of the psych team, but it’s, like, wavelengths or frequencies or whatever, they get past the brain’s filters, so it burrows inside, like, like… like… if you were raised Catholic you know? Like it’s been part of you, inside your head, from before you knew how to think, so even when you see some article about a hundred new accusations or whatever, you’re still Catholic and you still love and fear God. You can’t shake it.”

“So they don’t even know they’ve been Knifed?”

“No.” Jenks’ head dropped back into his hands. “Seriously, Noble, this shit is… Do you that girl, Alexis, who said at that party, that I put something in her drink? I mean, I didn’t, but like, I knew she was too drunk, man. I knew it, but I…” His body shook with sobs as my mind wandered in and out of plans for how I might implement it. “But this is the first thing I’ve ever done in my life that I think is truly… evil. I can’t believe I…” I nodded, patted his back, helped coax him to sleep. He’d forget all this in the morning and feel better for it.

There was no way the Knife worked. No way. Though… there was only one way to be sure, I told myself as I fell asleep back in my own bed.

The next morning, I drove Jenks back to get his car, still thinking it over. (His hungover ass asked me if he’d told me about anything weird last night, but I just played dumb and told him all I ed was a badass night full of good booze and decent lap dances. Classic Jenks, always blacking shit out.) He’d said I should use it on Sandra. Jenks wouldn’t suggest that if he thought it wouldn’t work. Or if he thought it’d have any kind of nasty side effects, scramble her brain or anything. So it could be done.

Not that I was going to. I mean, I might occasionally put a toe over the line, but I wasn’t a total nutjob.

Besides, he’d said the whole point was that it was subtle, that it took weeks and weeks of exposure to even make someone suggestible. Sandra was finishing outside interviews for the position this week and would make the announcement next, so I didn’t have that kind of time. It was a relief, really, not to have to worry about the temptation to abuse the power.

Such power.

But yeah, no way. Even if she left her office unlocked all the time (which she did) and she usually left her phone sitting there unattended (to remind us we weren’t supposed to be attached to our phones during work hours) and the Knife came complete with a means of slicing right through basic bitch security like a lock screen (which it did, easily, tantalizingly easily)...

No way.

I mean, OK, I went ahead and installed it. Just to make sure Jenks wasn’t punking me, playing some big prank pretending to black out and filling my head with silly stories of sci fi voodoo apps. But nope. The Knife went right in, as d. The app on my phone prompted me to input “alpha level override input,” which I thought sounded like a pretty cool CIA mind-fuck app way of putting it.

I wasn’t going to use it, though. Just because Sandra was looking for excuses to screw me over in the name of her sexist feminist woke-ass man-hating cause, it didn’t mean I had to stoop to her level. I was a good guy, ask anybody. (I mean, don’t ask my ex-girlfriends, but only because I have a type, and it’s apparently thin-skinned girls who don’t know how to keep a man.)

“Morning, Noble,” Sandra said, holding the elevator for me. It was only the next morning after I’d installed it. I hadn’t done anything with it.

(Well, I’d put in a command for Smile more, just to be funny. Not like it could be wrong to make somebody smile, especially somebody as good-looking and as blandly expressionless as Sandra.)

She smiled as she hit the button for our floor. A tiny smile. A coincidence, I was sure. God, why did that make me rock hard? I had to fold my hands in front of my crotch. (Not to brag or anything, but I have a pretty big dick. It’s actually kind of annoying sometimes being such a dude. Not that it was super long, but it was girthy as fuck and that was what mattered.)

“Morning, Sandra. How’s it going? Still doing interviews?”

That thin smile of hers sharpened, became knowing, onishing. “I haven’t made a decision yet.”

I held up my hands, affronted, but with a laugh. “Hey, did I even ask? But since you bring it up…”

I was only joking, but then Sandra’s eyes flickered down, and I realized she’d seen my pants tent. Fuck. She forced one last smile, briefly, and we made the rest of the ride in silence.

Do you see what I mean, though? This is what I’m working with. Like it’s my fault my body responds to her hotness.

Still… she’d smiled. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe. But it made me wonder. Would it really…? Could I actually…? Should I sneakily…?

Well, really, in a way, I’d be doing her a favor, I told myself that night as I beat off, for the fifth time, ing that smile. That smile that I’d put there. Fuck, that was hot. Smile for me, Sandra. Smile for your employee, smile for the guy you’re planning to fuck over for that sycophant Jordana. Smile, bitch. Smile. Ungh, fuck yeah smile SMILE fucking SMIIIIIIIIILE…

OK, make that six times. Sorry. Just a harmless little fantasy.

But yeah, a favor. She was being sexist. If our genders were reversed, and she was a male boss hiring a male because he was a male and ignored a female employee who’d only been there 11 months less time if you counted the male employee’s time off for dead parent drama, everybody would be calling her out. It’d be a scandal. If I twisted the Knife in her (Jenksy’s phrase from his drunken tutorial, and you gotta it that’s a cool phrase), she’d do the right thing for the right reason. No scandal. She’d feel better about herself, probably. It was probably eating her up inside, knowing she was doing what generations of men had done to her kind for decades. She was a nice person, most of the time. She couldn’t want to be a villain.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt bad that I was holding back. I had good reasons, yeah, but this was new territory for me. I’d always been a nice guy because it was my nature. I’d never had the power to be a hero before, to really help somebody like this. And help myself at the same time, which was just common sense. Nothing wrong with making a little profit for yourself while you healed the world. That was just capitalism in action. Win/win.

Win/win/win, actually. Jordana would win, too. She had a lot on her plate, it sounded like. She didn’t need the added workload right now. It was actually another way Sandra was in the wrong here, planning to compound all that stress with more responsibilities.

I stopped by Jordana’s desk that afternoon. She looked so serious. Her phone was nowhere to be seen, though. Not that I was going to use the Knife on her, too. Not that I’d really even used it on Sandra, aside from the smile, which was at worst a harmless prank. Shit, there was that boner again. I walked by Jordana’s desk, splashed some cold water on my face in the men’s room, and came back for a second take.

“Do you need something, Noble, or do you get paid extra to hover?” she asked, not even looking up from her screen.

“Whoa, no need to be hostile. I was just stopping by to see how you’re holding up is all, Jordy, geez.”

She sighed, and spun her chair to face me. “I’ve asked you—several times—not to call me Jordy. It’s Jordana.”

“Hey, nobody gave me the trigger warning, Jordy,” I laughed. “Sorry, Ms. Jordana.”

“You don’t need the Ms. Do we need to get you in to see HR for more sensitivity training?”

My smile nearly slipped. God, that shit was a waste of time. All three sessions. The corporate wet blankets weren’t going to deprive the office of our sense of camaraderie, no matter how hard Jordana tried. “Good one. So, you nervous? You know, about the promotion and all.”

“Not nervous at all,” she said evenly. “For one, she told me she’s not announcing until after the three-day Memorial Day weekend, so I’m not going to freak out when it’s still two weeks off. For two, I’m going to do my job, well, and if they give me a new job, I’ll do that one well. You might try doing the same, if you want Sandra to take your own application seriously.”

“Ha. Yeah, totally. ‘Me such hard worker, me do much good jorb.’” I did a little robot pantomime to go with it. “Anyway, I guess we’ll see, huh? May the best man win.”

“It’s not a contest, and may the best person win.”

“No, for sure.” God, she could be such a bitch sometimes. The number of times I’d put up with crap like that from her over the past couple years… Man, I could…

Not that I would. The Knife wasn’t a toy. Like a real knife, it was part tool, part weapon. So badass. I could only imagine how some people would abuse something like that. I was impressed with myself that I hadn’t.

So. After Memorial Day. The rest of this week, then a long weekend. In a way, it was sort of a relief. That was too short of a window, from what I’d squeezed out of Jenks in his drunken stupor. Even if I experienced a momentary lapse of conscience and considered using it, there simply wasn’t time. The suggestions were subtle, they slipped in stealthily. That’s why it was called the Knife and not the Sledgehammer, probably. Only…

Could it be a Sledgehammer?

Call it curiosity. In the name of science, you know? I wasn’t—I couldn’t!—steal the promotion in so short a window. It was only a test, nothing more. So at lunch, I went out to the cell phone store and bought a burner phone. I took it out to my car, made sure the Knife alpha command module (so badass!) installed correctly.

When it seemed to, I went back in and bought twelve more. Baker’s dozen, I figured, since bakers used knives all the time. Not to get all poetic about it. I’ve always had a knack for words or whatever. Then, just to make sure we were really stress testing things, I went back in and doubled it.

Then I worked late that night. Sandra gave me this pitying smile on her way out like I’d never done it before, like I was just trying to sneak in some last minute sucking up, like it was my fault I worked efficiently and didn’t need to work late. Then I sneaked into her office and hid the other Knife-compromised phones. Taped to the top of a drawer, on the back of her PC and her monitor, in the ceiling tiles, behind the curtains, on the underside of her chair, behind the books in her bookshelf with a little gap to let the signal through, in the plastic foliage at the base of her plastic potted plant. All of the speakers aimed right at her chair.

Julius Caesar hadn’t gotten Knifed this hard.

Smile for Noble, I entered into the lot of them. That was it. Nothing harmful, nothing creepy. Just smiles. For me. From me, to me, by me, on Sandra’s pouty pretty full red lips.

I was honestly kind of worried I was going to chafe my dick that night. Not to get all graphic about it.

Look pretty for Noble, I added remotely in the alpha command module after Tuesday morning’s cold shower failed to crush the notion. Still, not that bad. I mean, what woman doesn’t like to look pretty? All I’d done was give her an excuse. If it even worked, which it probably wouldn’t. Just those two commands, which were basically just a makeover. Victimless crime—or no, not a crime. Victimless experiment.

She left the office that very afternoon, unannounced, not saying a word to anyone—though she smiled broadly at me as she ed my desk like we were old friends and new lovers—and then returned to the office two hours later, only just before quitting time. I couldn’t help but stare. She’d gotten her hair done, and had more makeup than I’d ever seen on her. And a dress that, for once in her bland life, actually put that body of hers to use. Tight, and only halfway down her thighs. Plus, cleavage. Cleavage! On Sandra “the feminazi” Su! (Not that I ever called her that, but some of the guys in the office did sometimes when we went out to blow off steam together.)

“Looking good, Sandra!” I said as she ed.

She beamed at me. Ear to glorious ear. Oh hey—earrings! I’d hardly ever seen her wear jewelry before. Big golden hoops, now. “Thanks, Noble. I just… I guess I felt like looking pretty for—” She stopped herself. Licked her lips, somehow without letting her smile slip a hair. It looked sort of insane, actually. “For once.”

Jenks had said the Knife took weeks to slip inside someone’s head and alter their thoughts. I’d gotten it down to six hours.

So sure, fine, it worked. It worked beyond my wildest dreams. I was a genius. A god. I mean, not a god god, just that I could… yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t! Obviously I wouldn’t. And I couldn’t, I told myself. The smiling, the outfit, the makeover, that had only worked because it was all stuff she probably wanted to do anyway. Smiling made people feel good. Hot girls liked to look hot. That was all. No way the Knife could actually make her do stuff she didn’t want to do. It only gave her outlets for her own dormant desires. It couldn’t, say, implant new desires she didn’t already have.

You love to touch Noble.

For instance. What better way to test it? So I could be sure that there wasn’t any real opportunity for abuse. I’d flirted with her, once or twice, mildly, when she was between boyfriends (and sometimes even if I was with a girlfriend myself), and she’d never shown the slightest interest. Which I respected, totally professional of her, even if it seemed sort of frigid. I’d just put that in there, on all twenty-seven devices—thirty, since I’d stayed late again last night and installed it on her tablet, PC and my old cell phone I’d had at home in a drawer and now taped to the bank of one of the cheap landscape paintings on her office wall. Then we’d see, make sure nothing untoward was possible. Just so I didn’t have to keep monitoring myself so vigilantly for any moral lapses.

Suddenly that Wednesday afternoon, there was a hand on my shoulder. I’d heard Sandra coming, of course. You couldn’t wear stiletto heels like those and sneak up on somebody. She walked up and put her palm on my shoulder, long (fake?) fingernails digging softly into my skin, wiggling slightly, teasing me. Her breasts—no, her tits, breasts was a demotion for those sweater puppies—rested against my other arm.

“How are we doing today?” she asked, peering at my screen.

I’d alt+tabbed fast enough that she hadn’t seen what I’d actually been looking at, praying she didn’t see Pornhub—Asian Bitch Boss Learns To Suc… on the second tab. (Channeling my frustrations in a healthy manner, that’s all that was.) “Pretty good, Sandra. Living the dream, ya know?”

She smiled. Her face was inches from mine. It was the closest she’d ever been. Her hand was sneaking down my chest, inch by inch. “Absolutely.” Her breath was minty. Her teeth gleamed. Her lips were cherry red and glistening and were forming a subtle pucker all on their own.

Her fingernails were beginning to graze their way back up my neck when I began to worry someone might see. Not that anything was wrong. I had nothing to hide. I hadn’t done anything. Nothing anyone could prove. Shit, what if somebody found those phones? What if there was a way to trace it back to me? Shit!

“Can I help you with anything, Sandra?”

She shook her head, hair cascading over her shoulders like a sensual waterfall. “Nope. Just checking in.”

“You look so pretty today,” I whispered.

(OK. That one just slipped out.)

Her nails squeezed, dug in, but the slight pain felt good weirdly. I could feel her body tremble against me. “Thank you,” she said, her smile slipping, then broadening, then vanishing, then returning full force and then some. Women in toothpaste commercials didn’t smile that brightly. Then she slowly let go, her fingertips brushing from one shoulder to the other to the other, then down my arm, as she walked away.

She stopped at her office door and looked back at my desk with a radiant grin. Her nipples were, for the first time, not only visible but impossible not to notice. She waved, and then snuck back into her office to unwittingly allow the Knifing to resume.

I let out my breath. Fuck. OK, I had to contain this. Apparently the Knife was even more powerful than I’d thought.

For the first time, I considered that this was more power than man was meant to have. Between that and my scare at the prospect of discovery, I resolved then and there to get back into her office, remove the phones, and never use the Knife again. Too much temptation, too much risk. I was a good guy, not some creep, but the way she’d touched me, how easy it had been to make her do it, to reshape her into what I wanted, to mold her mind like a lump of clay in any shape I desired…

I had to go back in there tonight and take it all out.

I had to.

I deserved the promotion, yes. This wasn’t the way to get it, though. I wasn’t going to take shortcuts, no matter how understandable they might be. Besides, maybe Jenks had been right, and I was only being paranoid. Elisabeth wasn’t the boss, after all, and maybe I hadn’t seen what I’d thought I’d seen when they’d been talking.

Or shoot, maybe what I’d done, the smiling and the look-pretty and the touch-Noble, maybe it was already enough. Girls did a lot of crazy stuff for guys they got horny over, and the way she’d been touching me, the way she’d looked at me, there was no way she wasn’t.

Noble makes you horny, I added. Just for fun. She’d been doing it to me for years now, only without the middleman of a malware . It was only fair. Her hand on my shoulder had gotten me harder than most girls could with my dick in their slut mouths. There, even Steven. I hit the button for the alpha command module to , and then I headed into her office to put an end to it. (I figured if I was quick, I could be in and out before I inadvertently Knifed myself. Not that I was worried. It all seemed pretty safe.)

“Sandra?”

She turned. In a flash, she went from reading-a-boring-email face to grinning like she’d just achieved a lifelong dream. That smile, fuck. I wasn’t the only one making someone in the room horny—tit for tat. (Heh. Tit.)

“Noble. What can I do for you?”

I wondered how her voice would ask that question this time tomorrow, after she’d had a day to stew in the latest command. All breathy and slutty, I bet. Not that I was going to let it go that far. That’s why I was here. To put a lid on this whole thing before it got out of control.

I shut the door behind me and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite her desk. Even as I did, she came around to the front of it and sat down, crossing her legs first one way, then the other. Black panties, I saw. That dress was way too short for an office place. I guess she was kind of a slut in the first place, owning something like that, and twisting “look pretty” into a command to dress like she was going husband-shopping at the bar after work. Even so, she was leaning forward like she hoped gravity would pull her right down into my lap.

“I wanted to talk about the promotion,” I said. “I know, officially you’re still doing interviews, but—”

“Noble, I really can’t discuss this with you. Just be patient, let the process bear out.” Her smile became encouraging, pleading. But never not a smile.

“Look, just level with me. I won’t say anything, I swear. I just need to know if I got it or if Jordana beat me to it. I can’t stand not knowing.”

“Yes, well, we all have to put up with things we don’t like from time to time,” she observed dryly. Then she slid off the desk and right into the other chair beside me, positioning herself so her calves rested against mine. She looked relieved. God it was hot. I’d done that. Me. By myself. I’d made my boss crave my touch like a drug. She looked like she’d scratched an itch that had eluded her for a year, pure relief.

“Is that your way of giving me a lesson about management, a little mentoring, like for your girl out there?” I nodded in the direction of Jordana’s office.

Her smile did that flicker on/flicker off thing again. It was spastic, totally unnatural, and made me harder still. Like I had an arm up her pussy and was wielding her mouth like a puppet. She was so lucky I wasn’t the sort to go off on a power trip.

“I mentor Jordana because she asked me to, because she sought out that and professional development. You’ve always made it perfectly clear that you prefer to do things your own way. Which I respect,” she added toothily.

“Hell yeah I do. Take no prisoners,” I said, quoting myself from my interview last week. It had been a good line. “But come on. It’s just us here. Level with me. Please. And did I mention, you look really pretty today.” I shifted in my seat, only a little, just enough that she’d feel my leg rub softly against hers. Couldn’t hurt to play to those new instincts, right?

More of those lip twitches, but the smile still won out, firmly. “That’s not an appropriate thing to say to a coworker, much less your manager,” she said. Her grin, so broad it actually made her look sort of ditzy, didn’t match the stern rebuke in her voice. “You see, it’s comments like those that helped me decide that, unfortunately, while I respect the contributions you make to the office, your attitude doesn’t make for an ideal fit with the office culture. So… it’s not official yet, but I’m sorry. I can’t offer you the promotion.”

My stomach lurched. I knew it. Even after I paid her such a nice compliment! “My attitude? All I did was tell you that you look nice. I thought you liked looking nice. I guess not.”

“I… I…” She shuddered, bent over for a moment and massaged her temples for a moment. “I do. But what I don’t like is being spoken to in that way. It’s unprofessional. I’m not mad,” she said hastily, putting a hand on my arm and leaving it there. “I’m only saying, you could stand to consider how your words and actions could be perceived by others. At times. Particularly women. But please know that I think you’re a good worker, and both upper management and I value you for what you do for ACI. Please don’t consider this decision a dismissal of the good you do here.”

What a fucking bitch.

I said some shit and made my escape. She didn’t deserve to get to touch me. I didn’t take the phones out, either. I guess I was just miffed. I went home and got drunk. I figured it’d help me get over it. I was a pretty level-headed guy. I just needed some time. Bad attitude, huh? Doesn’t like being paid a generous compliment by me, huh? Gonna sit there and completely disregard all the fucking good I do for ACI, huh?!

After a long weekend, Monday at last arrived.

“You wanted to see me, San—” Jordana saw me sitting there at the table in our manager’s office. Her lips pursed in displeasure. “—dra.”

“Hi, Jordy.” I waved, even managed to smile at her.

“Jordana.” She looked at me long enough to make exactly that correction and not an instant longer, then right back to Sandra. The sight of our boss wearing a dress that was barely appropriate for clubbing didn’t do anything to reduce her displeasure. It was scorchingly hot, all sorts of little gaps and slits and holes, tight and low-cut and high-riding. It was pretty slutty, but she looked great in it. I’d told her so when I’d come in this morning, when she’d asked me if she’d done a good job dressing herself. Noble’s approval means everything to me. Sounds a bit much, I know, but that had been necessary. I hated the thought that she’d feel conflicted about all this. So long as I told Sandra she was a good girl, she’d be beside herself with delight and not worrying about irrelevant crap like what Jordana and the other office prudes thought about her.

“Thanks for coming in, Jordana. Did you have a nice weekend? And please, have a seat.” She gestured to the seat opposite me.

“Am I interrupting something?” Jordana asked, not budging from the doorway. Rude.

“Hm? Of course not.” She repeated the gesture. Her smile wasn’t quite as manically friendly as it had grown over the weekend. (I’d joked that it looks like it’d hurt her cheeks and she shared that they were in agony while still grinning ear to ear, so I’d dialed it back.) Still, dialed back was still more than gracious.

Jordana uneasily shut the door and sat in the offered chair. Sandra settled into the chair between us, though it was plainly closer to me. “I’m sorry, just… Jesus, Sandra, what are you wearing? I don’t mean to be crude, but… you look like you’re on your way to a date. Did you fall in a mud puddle in the parking lot and that was the only thing you had in your trunk, or what?”

Sandra looked herself over, her smile faltering to mere simper. “Is there mud?”

“Well, no, but… Sorry. That’s just… sort of… unprofessional, isn’t it? Not to tell you your business. I just you telling me to dress for the job you want, and…” You look like you want a job selling tequila shots in a strip club/brothel, she implied, but tactfully didn’t say.

“Employees, as well as of the managerial staff, are encouraged to dress to their individual tastes. Since our department doesn’t have direct with customers, the rules are fairly lax, and I suppose I simply wanted to look attractive.” Unlike some women in the room, she implied, but tactfully didn’t say.

“All right. So, what are we meeting about? Is this about the opening?” She eyed me with plain distaste.

“It is, Sandra. As I believe you’re both aware by now, you’ve both applied for the new team lead position. As it comes time to announce my decision, I felt it was important to speak with both of you so there are no misconceptions or hard feelings going forward.”

“Which I appreciate,” I said. Sandra jumped in her seat, made a weird spastic beeping noise that was like a hiccup but cuter. That was a new one. She’d been struggling—nosebleeds, dissociation, this weird twitching thing that frankly grossed me out worse than the nosebleeds—so, to cure all that, I’d experimented with adding some good old-fashioned positive reinforcement. No more phony smiles. Now…

Satisfying Noble brings me incredible pleasure.

I know, “pleasure,” sounds sketchy, but it seemed like the best tactic. “Satisfaction” felt redundant and who knew if that’d screw up the prompt. “Happiness” felt vague, plus not everyone wants to be happy. Sandra had always struck me as sort of a cold fish. “Joy” was too hippie; “contentment” too low a bar; “pride” was co-opted by the LGBT-EFG crowd. (Not that I’m homophobic. I watch lesbian porn all the time.) In the end, I was accepting that the Knifing might cause her a few social hiccups, and that she deserved a few attagirls to help her transition.

So yeah, now she sort of came from a whole new g-spot, but this one was in her brain, and it could be stimulated at any time by a compliment from yours truly. I’d made her come for five straight minutes this morning just by telling her how hot she looked in her dress, and repeating it every time she seemed to be calming down.

“Do you need a glass of water…?” asked Jordana, evidently taking it as the hiccup.

“No, I’m all right. So. How was your Memorial Day? Did you wind up going to that thing at your aunt and uncle’s house?” Sandra asked her pleasantly. Jordana frowned. (Oh right, because her parents died. One of their brothers or sisters, I supposed. Way to be touchy even though Sandra meant nothing by it.) The two of them had gone out for drinks Friday, Sandra inviting her mentee at my behest. Look at me, having my own “behest.” Damn I loved the Knife. It was mostly innocent, a chance for Sandra to let her hair down, metaphorically speaking, after spending most of the week as my guinea pig. She’d sworn she hadn’t minded (after all, I welcome Noble telling me what to do, think and feel), and I took her at her word.

“Uh, yeah. But… Sorry, no offense Noble, but I don’t really feel comfortable chit chatting in front of you. So if we could get to the point of the meeting…”

“None taken,” I assured her. No more than I’d already taken when Sandra came home—my home, that is—after her outing with Jordana and told me all the stuff she’d baited Jordana into saying about me. This woman had some nerve. I it, at the time, I’d been pretty upset. Sandra had gladly offered to help me relax with a massage and a blowjob, which had eventually done the trick, but for a while there I’d been miffed. A misogynist? Me?! Then explain Noble’s cock makes me CUM like crazy, Jordy! All this influence, and I was sharing the fun with her without even getting anything in return! I bet feminism had never made Sandra have an orgasm just from the splash of a man’s jizz on her face. After that, it was like she couldn’t get enough facials.

Not that I thought of myself as a hero or anything. But I mean, sort of?

“Sure, if that’s what you’d prefer.” Sandra folded her hands calmly on the smooth clean surface of the meeting table. Her words were for both of us, ostensibly, but she left her back to me and delivered them to Jordana. It sent a message. “So, as you both know, we’ve been searching for a good fit for the new team lead position. I’ve interviewed both of you as well as numerous outside candidates, but I have been leaning, and continue to lean, toward an inside hire. This team will be focusing on some of the services ACI is already excelling at, though, so I’d prefer a candidate who already knows how we operate. More than that, though, I want someone with a strong cohesion with the staff.”

She laughed. It came out of nowhere, totally non sequitur, but I laughed with her. I knew why, after all. I’d invited myself in for a morning quickie—Sandra was a stickler for tidiness, which was why the table was presently so clean—and while she was riding me, I’d grunted something about how “look who’s on whose staff now” and she laughed and came so hard that she’d fallen down to the floor. Next time I went to do adjustments, maybe I should reconsider Noble is the most charming and funny and adorable and lovable man imaginable. In for a penny, after all, so I’d figured if we were doing this thing, may as well help her enjoy my company as much as I was enjoying the new and improved Sandra, or “Sandy” as she asked to be called. So she’d have a cute pet name like Jordy, she said. Such a good attitude, my boss.

Jordana made a face. She was starting to move from “Sandra is having a weird day” to “Sandra is a pod person,” I suspected. Pretty sharp, for an overeducated gal like Jordy. All book smarts, no street smarts. If she knew how to follow her gut, she’d already be fleeing the room. What a dope.

She said nothing, though; this was all information that at least for me had been covered in the interview. Jordana had probably gotten it again in her mentoring meetings, and again on their girls night Friday. She was just waiting for the reveal she’d been promised.

“So, I recognize that with the two of you having both applied, having both been hired around the same time, similar backgrounds, there’s potential for contentiousness. I didn’t want anyone to leave here today feeling like I’m not continually satisfied and often impressed with their contributions. You’re both valued employees of ACI, and I want to stress that to each of you. Jordana, your work on the Gerstner … incredible. Above and beyond.”

“Thank you, Sandra.”

Our boss pivoted to look at me for the first time, and I tried not to respond to the pure adoration radiating from behind her eyes. “And you. Noble. I just… I don’t have words. Thank you. Thank you.”

I nodded. “You’re welcome, boss.”

Sandra turned back to where the other person in the meeting was barely managing to keep her jaw from flopping open. She must be so used to getting all the praise and attention that seeing somebody else score a few points was really riling her up. Well, good. Served her right.

“So with that said, thank you both for your patience abiding me dragging this out as long as I already have. I’m ready to share my decision.”

Jordana nodded. In fact, she even began to grin a little herself, no doubt inspired by Sandra’s pearly whites. And by Sandra’s promise, given to her at their Friday night excursion.

“I’m offering the promotion to Noble.”

“I accept.” Jordana blinked. “Wait, what? Did you say you’re giving it to him…?!”

“That’s right. He’s impressed me a lot recently, and I think he’s going to grow into his new role nicely. The job is yours if you want it, Noble.” Which I did, which she knew. I want Noble to have everything he wants. I will learn to anticipate his wants and fulfill them. That, I’ll grant, was taking more than my due, but considering she’d tried to give my promotion away to her buddy, it seemed only fair.

Jordana wasn’t losing graciously, though. “But… you told me… you said…!” She made a noise not unlike a growl. “What about everything we talked about! He’s a chauvinistic asshole! You said!”

“You said, Jordana.”

“But you agreed!”

“I didn’t argue, because it was a Friday night and it wasn’t worth sullying a good time venting about work. That’s not the same as agreeing,” Sandra said gently, sliding the box of tissues across the table to her—now our—subordinate.

“It’s not like it’s the first time it came up! , ‘he was a brother at Alpha Beta Douchebag?’ ‘Every time he comes into my office I want to take a shower?’ ‘He has the eyes of a man who understands the impulse to strangle hookers?’ Come on!”

I frowned. “Did you really say those things about me?”

“Before,” Sandra acknowledged softly. “And I’m happy to accept whatever consequences you deem appropriate, Noble.” Noble can punish me however he wants, and I will be grateful for the opportunity to learn and improve.

Jordana took to her feet, throwing her hands in the air. “Accept…?! Are you serious? Is he blackmailing you? Is that it?”

“Noble would never. He’s a top tier employee, and a man of impeccable character. I consider myself lucky to know him.” That was a quote—Noble is a top tier employee. Noble is a man of impeccable character. I’m lucky to know Noble. —but it sounded much more organic to hear her say it out loud. Dang, I was already getting good at this Knife stuff.

“Do you hear yourself? What’s going on here? The way you’re dressed, how you’re looking at him, this, this… betrayal! You told me I was getting this promotion, Sandra! You looked me in the eye and you promised!”

Sandra, still sitting calmly, still smiling fetchingly, replied soothingly. “Let’s not raise voices, Sandra. Do you need a moment to collect yourself, or can we proceed?”

Jordana was marginally less irate. Mostly just quieter. “I need a moment to figure out if I lost my freaking mind is what I need! Was this some long con, some elaborate prank? String me along, make me feel important, ed, then stab me in the back? Why would you tell me you’re giving the job to me and then give it to him? What possible reason could there be?”

“I didn’t lie to you, Jordana. I told you that you were getting a promotion. I never said you’d be offered this one.”

Oh man. Here it came. I was so fucking hard. Time to realize what a condescending cunt you’ve been, Jordy.

Jordana was guarded, but plainly looked relieved to hear the news. “What…? What do you mean? There’s another promotion? Doing what?”

“You’re going to serve Noble!” said Sandra excitedly, like she was telling her she was going to be the next CEO. From her perspective, serving me was clearly the superior option, though. I delight in serving Noble in any way he desires, including sexually. Noble is the target of all of my sexual appetites. I will never lust after anyone but Noble ever again unless he tells me to.

You know, it actually does sound sorta misogynistic when I look at it all together like that. Lesson learned—don’t Knife while I’m in the middle of jerking off. I could always fix it later, though. Unless she seemed into it. God knows I was.

“Serve… Noble. What? What does that mean? Like, assistant team lead or something?”

“Don’t be silly, Jordana,” our boss said, giggling, tits bouncing. She wasn’t wearing a bra under that dress. I wasn’t sure I’d ever let her wear a bra again. Noble can dress me and undress me however and whenever and wherever he wants. My own Memorial Day had consisted of her taking me to a skanky lingerie store and burning a hole in her credit cards with my recommendations from her fashion show. We’d fucked in the dressing room and everything. Bucket list item checked off! (Not the dressing room—that I’d done long since. But an Asian chick—heyo!)

“OK, so… then what.”

“You’ll be his,” said Sandra. Now my former coworker’s jaw finally came down. “Your body, your mind, your heart and soul. Everything that’s you, will be his. The same as me.” Serve Noble with your body, mind, heart and soul. She’d written that line herself, when I’d told her what I’d done to her and asked if and how we ought to modify it. I was glad I did. Having her know and approve was a real load off. I’d been having some misgivings, wondering if I’d taken things too far, but Sandra was emphatic that I hadn’t taken them far enough. Her blowjob became a lengthy, if awkward, tittyfuck, so she could workshop ideas with me on how to make her a better servant. (And I don’t blame her for her weak tittyfucking game, to be clear. She’d never done it before. I was honored to take her tits’ virginity, if not nearly as much as she was. She’d rubbed my cum into her cheeks like some precious lotion.)

“What in the hell are you talking about? Is this a joke? Are there hidden cameras somewhere?” There were, technically, on the dozens of cell phones hidden around the room, but it didn’t seem useful to point it out.

“From now on, that’s your responsibility—your entire position description. Serve Noble. Mine as well. We’ll fetch him coffee. Prepare his lunches. Do his work for him, if he asks. Dress to amuse him. Give him unfettered access to our tits and our pussies and our mouths and our asses and every other part of us, to use any way he might wish.”

“You’re insane.” Jordana was back-pedaling toward the door. “I don’t know what this is, but I’m leaving. You’re a sick fuck, Noble, however you did this. And you’re a crazy fucking bitch Sandra, and I’ll see you in court over this.”

Sandra’s smile somehow grew to incorporate a pout. “There isn’t anything I could say to change your mind?”

“Go fuck yourself,” spat Jordana bitterly.

“Very well. Noble?” Our boss turned to me.

I nodded. “Sit down, Jordy.”

“Get bent, Nob—” Her eyes widened as she realized she was sitting on the floor. Not ladylike at all—I could see right up her skirt. What a ho. She wasn’t even wearing sexy underwear either, just some boring granny panties. It wasn’t enough to wipe the smile from my face, though. “What’s going on? What did you do? Why am I sitting?”

OK, so when I said sending Sandra over Friday night was mostly innocent, this was the not-innocent part. Once Sandra told me she’d already decided to give her protégée the job, I made the mistake of asking why. I worked hard when I needed to. I was smart, and not just book smarts. People liked me, or at least the guys. With that fucking bitch Jordana out there whining and nagging everybody that I was somehow sexist, it wasn’t my fault if maybe some of the chicks were less cool with me. Small wonder Elisabeth felt empowered to make up complaints about me just because I’d had the supposed audacity to point out what a lazy over-emotional shit-heel Jordy was. Like I was the bad guy for pointing it out, instead of Jordy being the bad guy for sucking.

Sandra told me her own former thoughts, from before I’d Knifed her, how much better a fit she had thought Jordana was. She said it all apologetically (I will always make it up to Noble when I displease him), but still, it stung. But it had touched on the subject of just how much Jordana disliked me, for completely unfair bullshit reasons. Like sure, I’d tried to get Sandra to fire her during her little pity party time off (here’s all the time in the world to mope over Mommy and Daddy, right?), but that was for the good of the company. If it so happened that I’d already been angling for this promotion, well, so what? I deserved it, and it was business, not personal.

It pissed me off. She got in my head, and stayed there. So I figured, if I was already going to Knife my way into the promotion, may as well Knife Jordana, too. That way she’d be just as happy with things as Sandra. So I had Sandra meet Jordana at her house Friday night, ask to use the bathroom, and to leave me a way in when they left for their fraternizing. Smart girl that she was, she even texted me a warning about the doorbell cam along with a heads up about an unlatched window. I’d almost hurt myself breaking in, but it was a price I gladly paid.

Jordana’s house was now home to forty-five burner phones, each with the Knife malware installed. A phone on high shelves she couldn’t see or reach; phones in her couch cushions; a phone in a pack of tampons under the bathroom sink (ew); twelve phones under her bed. She lived alone, so I could go as overboard as I wanted without worrying I’d scramble some innocent by-stander, like a boyfriend.

(Maybe I was a little sexist; for some reason, it did give me some misgiving at the thought of Knifing another dude.)

Unlike Sandra’s programming though, Jordy’s only had two messages. Sit down whenever and wherever Noble tells you to. Don’t move from that spot until he gives you permission.

Could I have done more? Sure. But unlike Jordana, and apart from my fraternal sentiments toward my fellow men, I was no sexist. I was going to give her one last chance.

I crouched in front of her. She wiggled in protest, but every time her hands made to lift her up, her wrists went limp and she bounced right back fully on her well-cushioned ass.

“I’m taking over this company, Jordy. First our department, and then… Who knows. Now, you’ve said some hurtful stuff to me, but I have thick skin. So I’m going to give you this one chance to apologize. Say you’re sorry, and I’ll—”

“What? You’re insane. I will never apologize to you. Fuck you!” She spit on me. She spit on me! “Sandra, help me up! I… I can’t…”

I shook my head. “Sandra can’t help you now. Can you, Sandy girl?”

Sandra favored her with a sardonic grin. “Sorry, Jordana. You’re on your own now. But don’t worry. Your retraining begins momentarily. Once you’re with the program, like I am, you’ll pity every woman who doesn’t know the pure joy of serving and pleasing and submitting to Master.”

“I’m sorry, did you call him your Master…?!” gasped Jordana.

Yeah, yeah, I know how that sounds. It was her idea, though. She busted it out the first time I was busting in her pussy, and it made me come immediately. (What a way to find out she wasn’t on birth control!) (Oh fuck, I keep forgetting to order her to get on with that. Well, one girl at a time.) Anyway, yeah, once she saw how much I liked it, it became a whole thing for her. Before I knew it, I was Master and she was my cuntslave, my pussy pet, my fuck meat, my butt slut, on and on. The dirty talk did it for me, so I went ahead and let her have it. (And then, just in case she changed her mind, went into my Knife command module and added Noble is my Master, and I am Master’s cuntslave. She was already thinking it, so it was more or less just something fun for me to type. No harm no foul, I figured.)

“Our Master, Jordy.” Jordy was such a cuter name, Sandy had agreed, as she had regarding Sandy. By the time we were done Knifing her, Jordy would see why I’d always persisted using it. “Now, hold still, and let me…”

She wrapped the ball gag around Jordana’s face and secured it before the girl could move. Sorry, I mean before the woman could move. See, I listen during sensitivity training. Then I ordered her to sit in Sandy’s chair, just so it was less weird. Having her on the floor before I’d even started to break her in felt a little crude to me for some reason. Jordy blubbered all the while, but she couldn’t stop herself. Noble had told her when and where to sit, and so she sat. Tears were leaking out of her eyes, streaming down her leather-strapped cheeks. I positioned myself behind her so I couldn’t see them. I’ve always been such a sucker for a pretty girl crying.

Sandra sat down on the edge of her desk beside her. Now there was a girl who had something to show when she gave me a look up her skirt. Who knew Sandra was such a fucking slut, right? She put a hand on Jordana’s shoulder and spoke slowly, softly, warmly. Her smile never faltered.

“We’re going to leave in a moment, Jordana. We’re taking the rest of the staff out to celebrate Master’s good news, and then for the rest of the afternoon we’ll be focus grouping some… well, some pointless distractions. But it will keep everyone away from my office, so don’t bother trying to make noise. You’ll have access to my computer, as you’ll need it for your training on how to service Master, but it’s disconnected from the internet and the speakers. If…” She laughed. “I was going to say, ‘if it brings you any measure of peace attempting to use it to escape or summon help, feel free to try,’ but frankly, you don’t deserve to struggle. You don’t deserve to feel free, and so you won’t, ever again. You’ve upset Master terribly, and I’m going to help him punish you,” she announced cheerfully.

She leaned in, took hold of the strap of the ball gag and held Jordana’s face in front of hers. One girl’s eyes were wide with terror; the other heavy-lidded from the arousal of being in my presence. (So hot. Can you blame me if I got a little carried away?)

“And punish you.”

Sandra slapped Jordana across her plump left udder. Jordana squealed behind the gag.

“And punish you.” Again, this time on the right one. Jordana wailed, but it barely made noise. That thing had worked better than I’d figured when Sandy brought it home to me. “And when Master decides you’ve suffered enough, when and if you’ve endured enough that he finds it in his magnanimous heart to forgive you for being such a rotten, good-for-nothing, lying, conniving, gossipping little cunt…” Jordana whimpered as a tendril of drool leaked out of the corner of her mouth, dripping down onto her freshly abused tit. “Then I’ll help him erase every part of you until there’s nothing left but a good, obedient, servile, beautiful cuntslave. The same as I helped him do to me.”

Her smile never broke, never suggested anything but casual, friendly banter. I turned on the Knife software, and the room suddenly took on a subtle but ominous buzz. I’d never heard it switch on before. Pretty spooky. I mean, I didn’t start whimpering about it like Jordy, but mine was the gender of spider crushers. Courage was in my blood.