Abda woke up the next morning feeling woozy.
For the first minute her head spun. Her head pounded, as if violated, as if someone had shoved a steel spike through it. Then the events of the night before came rushing back to her. She couldn't believe what a whore she had made of herself. A few measly orgasms and she was ready to move in with him completely. She held her head in her hands, partly in shame, partly in desperation, and then realized for the first time that she was actually naked now.
The night before she had been bound, and dressed, though her clothes had been lifted to grant access. Now, everything had been removed. She was no longer bound. Her movements freed. She could escape! She looked around the room for a way out.
However the only door was made heavy wooden oak, reinforced with iron bolts. Escape through that way, was impossible. Then she looked up at the window. Too small.
Then something else came back to her, insignificant at first but seeming more odd, then more and more significant as it was examined and turned over in her mind, like a tiny detail of a half remembered dream which turned out to be the main link that dictated everything that followed.
There was something wrong about all that had happened; she gave in too easily, took too much pleasure, wanted it too badly. As a psychology student she new everyone had several voices in their head going at once but usually only one was really heard; the one that acted upon decisions and cast the deciding votes. But the others were always there. The others were always chattering away: her mother's voice soothing, her father's degrading, her inner child scared, and then... Something else. A voice that was out of place. Oh yes, it sounded like one of her inner voices, it sounded like herself, but the phraseology was off, the structure of the sentences, the amount of dominance and arguing and controlling it did, the amount the other voices argued against it. It had started so quiet and had gotten more powerful so gradually that she hadn't noticed. The whole persona of it was wrong. They were brilliant forgeries but, definite forgeries nonetheless
Then she realised what it was. HE WAS TELEPATHICLY CONTROLLING HER SOME HOW. No wonder the inner struggle had raged within her the night before. No wonder the inner voices argued with her when she said to herself she finally felt like she was home!
She hadn't enjoyed it - yes she had- she had only thought she had enjoyed it - no really it was so good. She'd never orgasmed like that before. She cried out; "STOP IT!" and slammed her palms into her temples trying to block the voices out. She knew now. There were more than one. All pretending to be her, all arguing with her own voices, trying to take control of her mind
She then heard a noise and realised that what she heard were keys rattling in the keyhole of the door. She jumped to her knees, in order to beg her captor to release her. However, her pleas fell on deaf ears as a man strode in, tall and powerful, bald, with dark, evil eyes and a horrible evil face that was full of malice.
He said to her, speaking over her pleas, in a deep and domineering voice which overrode hers without ever rising: "My name is Imhotep." -you love him, you worship him- "I will give you one chance to escape."
He expanded to fill the room, like some sort of giant bat spreading its wings, creating a spider web like a lattice across the room; more importantly, across the door which formed itself into a stone and marble pillar system identical to the standard police cell bars, except for being made of sterner natural materials. Then her face appeared in the middle, and Imhotep said; "If you can get out of here in the next 10 minutes, no one will stop you from trying to leave."
The vices grew louder: -There's nowhere to go, stay here, I being here, I need to be here, I'm naked! Where would I go like this? I'm his. He's so good in bed".-
She rushed at the stonewall hoping it was an illusion but, surely enough, it was completely real. It was as strong and solid as a real stone would be and more than a match for the naked woman. She did everything; she even tried to squeeze through the bars. It didn't work. After the 10 minutes had concluded, she was thrown back against the far wall and landed on a pile of hay. Imhotep shrank back down into a human form and said; "You have failed. Therefore, you belonged to me now."
The magic he had made her his servant, as her body now answered to his commands before it did to hers. He was higher in the chain of command now. She was made his willing servant by the ever increasing chatter of voices telling her she wanted to do whatever he said. From that point onwards, she would do anything he told her to do. She knew a human responded to authority. She knew all about the obedience to authority experiment conducted by Milgram.[1]
Suddenly an instinct came to her from outside her body; a foreign desire. She paused for a moment and then realised it was some sort of psychic command.
From him. This was far more powerful and more subtle than the others. Clearly they were working for him, but had nowhere near the skill he did. -No ones trying to control you, you just want him-
She had an overwhelming desire to... Give him a blow job. The urge was so strong that she found she could not fight, nor resist it. She tried. She struggled. But one foot stepped in front of the other. She commanded it back. Commanded herself to halt. She commanded the corrupt foot to heel. But was the other foot which heeled. To the first.
Then it stepped beyond it. She was losing the fight. Without any commands from her own mind, her legs began moving her towards Imhotep at a steady speed. -no ones making you do this, you want to, you just cant admitted it to yourself, like horney women who blame the booze the next morning.-
When she arrived, her legs buckled under her weight and she was forced to her knees by this instinctive desire. And the dozen tentacles that sprouted from his hips and grabbed her head.
She found herself face to face with his crotch. Before she knew what was happening she also found her hand moving to his crotch all by itself. Once it reached its desire, it began pulling out the largest cock she had ever seen. The voices were cheering, egging her on, telling her how delicious it was.
Her restraint and self control was slipping. It was true some dark, primordial instinct, wanted it, the same instinct which dictated lust and desire and passion. But she was a fully grown woman, not some silly school girl with a crush. However, it was this tiny instinct that that the voices fed up, nurtured, expanded and forced to grow, until it consumed her. -you want it. come on, admit it, you need it-
It was so long and thick that even her admittedly large hands, which had disturbed many self assured men, didn't cover half its length. Even her admittedly large hands, which had scared many over cocky men, couldn't touch thumb to fingertip around its girth at the base, though holding it in her hands was quite possibly the greatest sensation she had ever felt: the texture, the feel, the warmth, the gentle throbbing of his pulse and the odd feeling of a deliberately hard and rubber stick.
No, that was Imhotep talking (- so nice-)
she had to fight (- so soft yet hard, like a rubber bat- )
she had to resist- so wonderful and pleasurable to touch, never let it go-
The way it gave and yet it was steely in its strength and firmness, like one of those foamed bats psychologists give patients bats made of steel or wood but wrapped in foam so they can beat each other silly with no ill effect in anger
displacement therapy.
No, that's not her voice, she was sure of it. It knows all she knew, but it was not her voice!
The weight in her hand (-no.... must resist-.)
It felt as if it had been built specifically for her hand and her hand had been built specifically for it. So good. (- no stop it -)
There was something in her head. Something that sounded like her, too quiet and weak to make out. Three voices. One hers, One Imhotep, and the third the mass of his manipulating minions. Which one was hers again?
