A Man Of Singular Talent Redwing

A rather long story continuing the adventures of my mind-controlling protagonist. If you want to read more about the protagonist and how his powers work, seek out my earlier stories.

I am greatly indebted to:

Doorknob22 for his invaluable advice on earlier drafts.

PandaPensif for his translation of the French dialogue and his insights on the story.

Vibes for his translation of the Italian dialogue.

(It is not necessary to understand French or Italian to read this story.)

As always comments and feedback are welcome.

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All characters and events are fictional. Many are illegal, immoral and/or impossible. Never try this in real life. You do not have mental powers.

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Like anyone who has the ability to control the minds and bodies of others, I get bored sometimes. The same looks, faces, bodies. Other people travel abroad when they tire of the old homestead; although I travel constantly I rarely cross national borders. Too many identity checks, too many machines not susceptible to my very special talents.

The solution of course is to let the world come to me. Many major cities seem to have more tourists than residents. Which is why this evening I find myself sitting in a cafe opposite a mid-range hotel in one of the busiest tourist hotspots in the country (I prefer mid-range hotels - expensive hotels have older patrons and more security).

I expect to be sitting here a while, looking out the window and watching the comings and goings across the street. But in fact I had just set my coffee down when a group entering the hotel catch my eye. A gaggle of teens pour out of an airport minibus and into the hotel, shepherded by a woman who does not appear much older. I catch a glimpse of a dark-haired girl, not more than a glimpse but enough to captivate me; I manage to get a longer look at the older woman, a slender redhead. I abandon my untouched coffee and head out to the street.

At this point I realize I had made a mistake in choosing my observation point. The only crossing in this busy street is far from the hotel. By the time I enter the hotel the group is gone. The lobby is small, a couple hundred square feet at most. I am alone here except for one receptionist. Perhaps all is not lost.

I greet the receptionist who raises her head from the computer screen below the reception desk. Before she finishes her "Hello, welcome to th-" I am inside her mind and rooting through her recent memories. Yes, she did book in the group I had seen, not moments ago. A group of French students and their teacher, apparently. A little rummaging in the receptionist's mind and I have the room numbers of both the redhead teacher and the darker-haired girl (though not their names, which she has forgotten already).

This achieved, I take a proper look at the receptionist, and am surprised I did not do so earlier. Linnea is a Swedish girl with long pale blonde hair framing a round face, her full lips frozen in a smile. Pale blue eyes complete the look. I send a silent mental order to her and she obediently stands. She's about a head shorter than me, with an impressive chest stretching her uniform shirt (which is buttoned to the neck because she got fed up with guests peering down her cleavage at every opportunity). Linnea turns around and shows her curves are not limited to her chest; her ass fills out the conservative dark slacks very nicely. A deeper glance into her mind reveals that she is eighteen and is using this job as a working holiday. Looks like I'll be adding some Scandinavian flavor to my French evening.

The hotel keys are electronic; with a little mental push it is simple for Linnea to create three keys, one for the teacher's room, one for the dark-haired girl's and another for an unoccupied room. I head for the elevator. I consider ordering Linnea to join me, but it occurs to me that her abandoning her post would be problematic. Linnea's shift ends in an hour, however, so I spend a little time tinkering in her mind. By the time the elevator has arrived Linnea has forgotten all about me, except for one deeply implanted instruction to go to the teacher's room when her shift is over. With that covered I head for my first rendezvous.

The rooms for the class group take up one end of a corridor on the fourth floor. The teacher's room is at the very end, so I use the key and enter the room quickly before any of the students notice me. Luckily the teacher is not immediately visible; as I quietly close the door (and set the deadlock) I hear the sound of the shower running.

I cannot take control of people's minds without a direct line of sight, so while I wait for the teacher to finish her shower I close the curtains and strip off. I make myself comfortable on the double bed. It isn't long before I hear the water turning off, but I have to wait a good twenty minutes before the woman emerges from the bathroom - typical, right? The bed is not immediately visible from the bathroom, so I see her before she sees me, making it easy to take control of her before she can utter a sound of surprise.

The teacher (whose name is Amelie Bustier, according to the brief scan I took while taking control of her mind) is indeed a redhead, and as she obeys my silent mental command to walk to the foot of the bed and drop the towel wrapped around her body I can confirm she is a natural redhead. Either that or the neat landing strip of pubic hair is dyed as well, which seems unlikely. My gaze travels up her body, and I feel my dick start to stiffen as I take in long legs; a slender body with just enough curves to be unmistakably feminine; apple-sized breasts with a dusting of freckles between them; a round face with more freckles on either side of a straight nose and large piercingly green eyes (currently wide with shock at her inability to do nothing but stand naked in front of an equally naked male stranger); and of course locks of red hair, tied up at the back except for one lock falling just beside her left eye. Amelie's hair has evidently not been showered; the rest of her body is glistening with small beads of moisture that accentuate her fresh features nicely. Amelie cannot be over thirty, I estimate; another look inside her mind tells me she is in fact 26.

So far I am very pleased with my latest toy, but there is one final thing to check. Amelie's mind jolts as she finds herself turning to face away from me, bending her knees and arching her back. My gaze goes straight to her ass, enticingly displayed by her pose. The French redhead's naked ass is not large but it fits her body well; her pussy is clearly visible in this position, as is her asshole (which her memories tell me was thoroughly cleaned in her shower, how convenient).

Enough voyeurism, on to the fun part. I issue some further commands and Amelie turns again before slinkily mounting the bed and crawling over my body. I return her ability to speak while she approaches me, not too loudly though.

"Mais qui êtes vous donc?... Et... Que faites-vous ici?"

... I'm lucky my ability to control minds is not dependent on language, because I have no idea what she is saying. From her mind (and my copious experiences with this scenario) I can guess she is asking the usual pointless questions. I reply with my usual response.

"All you need to know right now Amelie is that I have complete control over you. Your mouth, your pussy, your petite ass, it's all mine to play with, and when I'm done you'll forget ever meeting me. There's nothing you can do about it, so just sit back and enjoy the ride if you can."

"...what? Who are you? Why can't I sto-mmmff!"

My usual response to the usual question is as usual completely ignored. It does at least pass the time until Amelie is on her elbows and knees directly above me, her head inches from mine. Her questions are cut off by her leaning her head down and kissing me, an act to which I eagerly respond. As we lock lips my hands rise off the bed and start exploring the rest of her naked body, starting at her hips and going over her back until I have her breasts in my grasp. Her skin is damp, supple and pliant, and I take pleasure in holding her firm breasts; judging by the muffled squeals from Amelie I may be holding them a bit too tight. I enjoy it though, so I cup one breast in each hand and squeeze them, to Amelie's vocal discomfort.

As much as I enjoy Amelie's kissing (you can make your own french kissing joke, if you must), my penis is starting to feel left out of the action. But that is easily fixed; Amelie lifts her lips from mine before planting them on my neck, beginning a slow crawl back down my body. I release her breasts from my hands and enjoy the sensation of them rubbing against my chest, followed by Amelie's soft lips before finally a gentle tickle from her loose lock of hair. The bed is only of a normal length, so Amelie is soon standing on the floor, her upper body bent down as she covers my stomach in kisses (I had removed her ability to speak again, in order to enjoy the quiet sounds of her movements). The position is no doubt uncomfortable to maintain so I show a little kindness by scooting down to the end of the bed until my own feet rest on the floor, allowing Amelie to kneel and sit on her heels as she finally brushes her breasts over my erect penis and comes redhead to cockhead. I lift my upper body up on my elbows so I can get a better view of Amelie as she places her face against my penis; the touch of her cheek against my shaft makes it twitch in anticipation. The beautiful redhead looks up at me with a pleading look in her eyes, and I cannot resist restoring her speaking ability again as she slowly places her lips on the tip of my dick.

"S'il vous plait, non! Je ne veux pas, je ne peux pas faire ça, non-mmf!"

Amelie's protests are again cut short. This time it is not her tongue pushing into my mouth that silences her, but my dick being pushed between her soft lips, as she lowers her head and engulfs the tip and a good part of the shaft in her mouth. Her eyes are still fixed on mine, and as she starts swirling her tongue around the shaft I distract myself by reaching into her mind and assessing her mental state. As expected at this stage Amelie is still confused and afraid, but there is a surprising current of resignation as well; Amelie is adjusting to the hopelessness of her situation faster than most. I make a few mild tweaks to make sure her mood does not turn into desperation (panic is unhelpful) before delving into her memories.

Amelie is a teacher in a collège in Paris. She is well travelled and skilled in languages, which is why she was trusted to escort a class of teenagers on this trip. Her travel experience is much more varied than her sexual experience; no husband or boyfriend, only a few casual relationships in her history. It seems her innocent looks are accurate.

Amelie is looking much less innocent right now. While I was inside her mind her journey down my dick continued, and now her lips are only about half an inch away from the base of my shaft. Her eyes are no longer wide open, but half closed in discomfort as she struggles to fit my penis in her mouth. One hand has reached to stroke and fondle my balls, gently pulling them one by one (a trick taught to her by a former boyfriend who I should really thank one day). She is audibly breathing through her nose, and I resist the temptation to pinch it closed and watch her struggle to breathe around my dick. Save that for later perhaps. For now I simply place one hand on top of her silky red hair and give her the extra push she needs to take the last fraction of my dick into her mouth. As Amelie's lips touch the base of my dick she finally takes her eyes off mine and tries to look down at where my flesh meets hers. Her crossed eyes are quite amusing, especially when I twitch my dick inside her mouth and her eyelids flutter in distress.

I take my hand off Amelie's head and give new mental instructions. Amelie immediately starts bobbing her head, her lips tightly closed around my shaft as they slide up and down. Her hand has moved away from my balls, as she needs both to steady her body. There's not much finesse to this, but I enjoy watching this young attractive redhead naked on her knees, servicing my dick with her mouth, so I just lean back and watch for a while.

The first orgasm of the evening is always the quickest, don't you find? I almost prefer to get it out of the way quickly so that I can take my time with the next half dozen or so. It certainly doesn't take long before I can feel my balls tighten in preparation. I had already decided that I wanted to see Amelie's fresh face covered in my cum, so before I end up shooting in her mouth I order her to stop. Amelie lifts her head off my dick, which emerges glistening and swollen. One of Amelie's hands snakes up to take hold of the shaft, wrapping her carefully manicured fingers around it. The redhead's eyes cross as she tries to look at the dick pointing her face, while her hand strokes it hard and fast.

I had not removed Amelie's ability to speak during the blowjob, she had just had other things to do with her mouth. Now free of obstruction, she still doesn't say anything beyond a soft whimper as my cum erupts from my dick and lands on one cheek, covering her dark freckles with white. Under my control, her hand shifts to try to aim the next spurt on her other cheek, but it arrives too fast and instead lands on the side of her nose and the corner of one eye, causing her to reflexively wrinkle her nose and close that eye. She does manage to get the third streak across her other cheek however, and by the time my orgasm subsides and my balls are emptied, Amelie's face is efficiently covered in warm white cum. She takes the head of my dick into her mouth, using her tongue to whisk away the last drops while looking up at me with her one open eye. I take the time to look into her mind; Amelie's earlier resignation has blossomed into full hopelessness. In this state she would accept anything I do to her with minimal complaint (I'm not stupid enough to imagine she would submit willingly of course, this is real life not some silly BDSM masturbation fantasy).

My attention is brought abruptly out of Amelie's mind by the sound of a knock on the door. I remove Amelie's speaking ability immediately, before reaching out with my mind to scan the area (I can sense other people within a small radius, just not identify or affect them without seeing them). In the corridor is one mind in front of Amelie's door. I assume it is the receptionist from earlier but I don't like surprises, so rather than go myself I order Amelie to rise and open the door while I get within eyeshot behind her.

It is indeed Linnea at the door. Her confusion as to why she needed to come here is quickly replaced by surprise and embarrassment at being met by a naked woman with cum on her face. This gives me ample time to take control of Linnea's mind, and she enters the room without a murmur. I address Amelie as she closes and locks the door.

"Good girl Amelie, now go clean up."

Amelie heads to the bathroom, helped along by a smack on her ass. I then turn my attention to my next toy, the blond teen receptionist standing silently in front of me.

Behind me in the corner of the room is a desk and a simple armless chair. I take the chair, turn it to face Linnea, and sit. Linnea looks at me with fear, her eyes occasionally darting around to find some kind of escape but always returning to me. I beckon her over and she jolts into motion, until she is standing less than a foot in front of me.

"I bet you'd like an explanation right about now? Sure you do. It's simple really. I control your body and can tell you to do anything I like. And you are going to do *anything* I like. Understand?"

"..."

"You may speak."

"..ah! I don't, who... how are you doing this?"

"I just told you. Keep up."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I just told you that too. Ah, never mind, be quiet now."

"..."

"Better. Still wearing the frumpy work outfit I see. Well, that's the first thing to fix. Strip, babe."

Linnea's mind radiates shock as she finds herself unable to speak. The look of confusion in her eyes turns to outright shock as she watches her hands reach for her shirt buttons without her volition. Soon her shirt is unbuttoned and falling to the floor around her feet. Her slacks soon follow. Linnea's underwear is similarly utilitarian, although her bra has some serious engineering to keep her chest restrained. Linnea unhooks her bra and removes it, and her breasts almost spring out of their confinement. They aren't porn star big, but nor are they porn star fake; large round breasts capped with prominent nipples loom over me. There's a clear upwards curve to them; in a few years these beauties will start to droop but at 18 Linnea's breasts don't have a hint of sag in them despite their impressive size. Linnea catches me staring at them and her fear is tinged with embarrassment. As she bends down to slip her panties down her hips her chest comes close to touching me, and I can't help but order her to freeze for a moment so I can take her breasts in my hands. My fingers sink into her flesh as I lift her breasts to feel their heft, before I let them go again so she can finish stripping. Soon panties, socks and shoes are discarded and Linnea straightens up, completely naked in front of me. Linnea's body is as shapely as I had guessed even with her work clothes on (I'm something of an expert in these things). A relatively narrow waist flares out to form a sizable round ass, again not porn star proportioned but certainly a good compliment to her top half. Linnea stands with her legs apart, enough that I can see her pussy peeking out from pale blonde curls of pubic hair. A glint catches my eye; further inspection shows she has a piercing of some kind down there. All in all, a very pleasing package, and a nice contrast to the slender understatement of Amelie's body.

I'm still feeling quite drained from my earlier climax, but the sight of a hot naked blonde in front of me is always a nice pick-me-up. Even more when I can get up close and personal. I issue some more mental commands to Linnea, who steps forward, turns, and drops herself into my lap. The immediate tactile sensation of her soft skin against mine is welcome, and my hands waste no time reaching around to cup her breasts again - a reaction almost as automatic as if I were the one being mind controlled.

Linnea starts to gently circle her butt in my lap. Her pubic hair tickles my penis, which is beginning to wake up from its slumber. My hands feel the fullness of her breasts, before one reaches down past her smooth stomach to explore between her legs. The blonde teen certainly has some kind of metal piercing in her pussy though I cannot tell by touch exactly what. Her pussy feels dry but with a few well-practiced mental manipulations I soon get her aroused (a purely physical effect, I cannot create mental arousal if none is present to begin with). I order Linnea to turn her head so that we can kiss, and as her full lips meet mine and my tongue invades her mouth, my mind invades her memories.

Linnea has an interesting sexual history. Quite well-versed in sex for an eighteen year old, with a strong preference for women over men. Apparently the boys her age are all too interested in her impressive chest to pay enough attention to her own desires. Oral sex with both genders, some vaginal penetration (both flesh and plastic), more titfucking than she'd like (see previous statement re: selfish boys), one abortive attempt at anal... not nymphomaniac level experience but certainly more than the older Amelie. No current girlfriend or boyfriend, nor indeed any friends in this city - apparently she arrived only a week ago. How fortunate that our paths crossed.