Have you ever seen someone on a social media site and been instantly infatuated? Ever find yourself digging through the internet for more information, becoming obsessed with tracking down every picture, video and piece of information available?
I haven't. But the guy I borrowed this cellphone from has.
Sitting in a nondescript chain restaurant in a mid-sized city which I have trouble remembering much about other than the name (when you are constantly on the move places tend to blur into each other), I passed the time waiting for my order by borrowing the cell phone of a man at the adjacent table. He wasn't too happy to lend it to me, but my mental commands are absolute and soon he is sitting quietly while I scroll though seemingly endless pictures of his virtual crush.
The object of this man's affections isn't even a well-known social media personality. She is certainly attractive - tall and lithe with long dark hair - but her handful of dance videos have yet to set the internet on fire. Most pictures seem to be model shots, her 'real' job apparently being eye candy at local events and the occasional minor fashion show. Her location is listed as this city. That's when I find his 'special' collection; the resourceful fellow has somehow dug up her current address and has been taking surreptitious long-distance footage of her going to the store. He hasn't yet dared to get closer. My experience of other peoples' minds tells me that he will, with potentially tragic results.
I enter the mind of the sweating frozen man and carefully edit out all memories of this woman and his stalking activities. I then delete his collection, return his cell to him and erase his memories of ever giving it to me. I watch him blink, look around, see his cell on the table in front of him and pick it up. In his mind he simply zoned out for a minute. He starts scrolling through video game reviews and I am satisfied that he no longer poses a threat to this local minor celebrity.
... Yes of course I memorized her address before deleting it.
A few hours later I am looking up at a six-story apartment block in a quiet part of town. The address matches but unfortunately did not include the apartment number, let alone the code for the front door keypad lock. No matter; I can simply wait for a resident to appear, have them let me into the building and look for the apartment with the correct name on the door.
The first person to approach the apartment building turns out to be a food delivery person. I enter their mind and look for the door code. I am pleasantly surprised to find that not only does the delivery man have the door code, but that the recipient of the bag of food in his hand is my intended plaything.
And so, as the woman opens her apartment door expecting a delivery of fresh food (sushi apparently), she finds me waiting. My mental powers work through line of sight, but it only takes an instant to assert control. She stands silently aside as I enter her apartment, carrying her food delivery. Following my mental orders she locks the door and walks into the combined kitchen-living room space as I place the bag on a small dining table. I probe her mind; it is crowded with questions but I ignore them for the moment and check specific information. No, there is no one else in the apartment. No, no one is expected, nor is she expected anywhere for a few days at least. Good.
Looking around I can see it is clearly a one-person apartment. Small kitchen combined with a living room dominated by a couch and wall-mounted TV. Small square dining table and two chairs in the space between the two areas. One window, blinds closed. Two internal doors, presumably leading to a bedroom and bathroom. Modelling and social media doesn't seem to pay much, but at least it is neat and tidy. Satisfied that we will not be interrupted, I can finally turn my mental and visual attention to the woman standing a couple of feet away from me.
Katerina Novikoff is of Russian heritage (obviously), twenty-one, single, and very alarmed at being unable to move or speak as a stranger checks her out in her own apartment. She is tall at around 5'9" and model-thin. Long black hair falls down to below her modest chest. Katerina's facial features are as delicate as her body; dark gray eyes beneath neat black eyebrows, a narrow straight nose above a relatively wide mouth.
Katerina is currently wearing sweatpants and a crop top t-shirt, an unalluring combination. The only upside is that it does show off her flat stomach. I step close to her and place one hand on the exposed skin of her midriff, noting the toned muscles of a dancer in her prime. I have ordered Katerina to remain still and so she does not physically flinch at my sudden intrusion on her personal space, depsite her mind reeling. I run my hand up her taut stomach and under her t-shirt, noting with approval that she has not bothered to put on a bra tonight. I look into her eyes as my hand finds her small but perfectly formed breast and smile at her look of bewildered panic. I gently roll her nipple in my hand and consider exploring further south. But her casual appearance makes me decide to wait. Why eat a cupcake before the frosting is added?
I send Katerina some mental orders and she walks through one of the internal doors while I take a seat on the couch. I don't have to wait long before she re-emerges looking completely different. Gone are the staying-home sweatpants and t-shirt, replaced with a tight black dress, dark tights and high heels. She has also applied makeup, less to hide imperfections than to highlight her features. Dark gray eyes are accentuated by eyeshadow and mascara; lips made more prominent by light red lipstick. I smile in approval; this is the model version of Katerina that I saw so often in her erstwhile stalker's collection.
On my orders Katerina strikes a pose then struts from one end of the room to the other as if she was parading a catwalk in Milan. Her performance is perfect; the only thing out of place is the look of fear on her face instead of the usual blank expression of a fashion model at work. I never could control facial expressions, unfortunately.
Katerina returns to the bedroom, still in catwalk-mode. A couple of minutes later she re-emerges and starts the same routine. This time the ensemble is a purple bikini with a white flower print and pink edging. Plus heels of course. Even more than the black dress this shows off Katerina's long tanned legs and supple body.
A few rounds of the room and she goes back to the bedroom. When she returns to stride back and forth in front of me as I recline in the couch the performance is not something you will see in fashion shows. Katerina is completely naked, modelling only her own body. I note the subtle curves of her breasts and ass, both no more than handfuls but well in proportion to her dimensions. I mentally order her to stand still in front of me, which she does, one hand resting on her hip. Katerina's pussy is clearly visible in the gap between her thighs - she is clean-shaven, probably necessary for model work given the skimpy outfits they sometimes have to wear. I am not a short man, but seated on the couch as I am Katerina towers over me.
I feel overdressed, and so start removing my own clothing. At the same time I allow Katerina to speak, though not to move from her position. Her voice is light, wavering and filled with alarm.
"Ah! What- what is this? Did you drug me or something? Please, just get out of here or... or I'll call the police!"
My own voice is a little muffled by the t-shirt I am pulling over my head.
"Katerina, you can't move one inch unless I allow it, how are you going to call the cops?"
"I... what did you do to me?"
"I took control of your body with my mind."
Katerina is silent for a moment, but her thoughts are clear enough. She thinks I am crazy and have drugged her somehow. I shrug; it isn't important what she believes.
"What... what do you want?"
By this time I am down to my underwear. I pause and look her up and down appraisingly.
"Well, I think we'll start with a blowjob. Then I'll fuck your pussy. After that we see how your ass looks stretched around my dick."
"Wha- you can't be-"
I maintain eye contact with her as I remove my last item of clothing. My penis is understandably already erect, and I watch her gaze move to it as it comes out of hiding. I lean back on the couch.
"Come here babe."
Katerina's "nooo" of refusal turns into a "nooo!" of disbelief as her body obeys my mental commands and she puts first one knee and then the other on the couch, straddling me. Her arms go around my neck and soon her protests are cut off as her lips meet mine. I smell her perfume as her tongue pokes out from her lips and enters my mouth, meeting mine going the other way. A few adjustments later and Katerina is sitting in my lap, her legs and arms around me as we make out. I move my arms to her back, stroking the soft smooth skin. My dick is nestled between the cheeks of Katerina's toned ass. The contact does not escape Katerina's notice, even more so when I order her to wiggle her ass now and then, teasing my dick with her ass as her tongue and lips tease my mouth. I move one hand down and the other up and around to the front. I was right - both her ass and her breasts are perfect handfuls, firm and warm. As I grope the body of this lithe model and dancer I spare a passing thought for the stalker who would have killed to be in this position. Mind control powers make all the difference.
