Reprogramming Rob

Authors Note: This is my first story and I am eager for any feedback through the site. I am writing a novel also based in the "Mind Control Sisterhood" universe, so this short is effectively testing the water.

*

Rob liked precision. Rob liked predictability. Rob liked the programmable. It was about being in control.

He pulled the bank balance from his smartphone onto the budget program he had created on his laptop. Not good news, but it was precise. It all tallied up. It did mean, however, he had just enough money to see him through the next two weeks till the end of term, when his parents would release the next tranche of funds. His father was strict on sticking to their arrangement, but Rob couldn't complain as it was a generous deal compared to most of his fellow students. And Rob approved of careful financial planning. It was good to plan ahead and control as much as possible. At least money obeyed the rules of logic; not like most areas of life, not like people.

His father was a successful accountant but, rather than following in his footsteps, Rob opted for a Computer Science degree, confident that his specialisation in networks and security could lead to a lucrative career. More than this, for Rob, computer science was all about precision and predictability – he loved the feeling of power that programming and problem-solving gave him.

A sharp knock shattered his reflection. He looked up from his laptop to see his housemate's eager face peering round the bedroom door.

He was friends with Andy simply because they shared a house. In reality, they had little in common. Rob was a fantasy fan – computer gaming, books, movies, even board gaming. Andy was more into sport. They had computer studies in common, of course. And beer.

"Fancy going out for a pint, mate?"

"Can't tonight, Andy. Stony broke till the Christmas break."

"I could lend you a little till the New Year."

"No, you can't. You are a crazy man with debts you will never repay this side of graduation."

"Yeah, me and ninety percent of the student population – it's you that's the weirdo. And I don't mind a bit of debt. In a few years' time, we will both be rich tech wizards. Don't be so serious – live a little."

"Sorry, mate. Can't take your money. It would mean I will start next term a bit short if I do. Apart from that, I have work to do."

"So very serious. You have basically nailed a first – you can afford to relax a little. Won't your old man give you a break on the money front just this once?"

Rob gave a thin smile. "No chance. Apart from the rules, news just out – marriage number two is on the rocks, so he has my mother and my step-mum and her two brats to support – and now, of course, he will get skewered in the divorce settlement."

Andy laughed. "Oh, boy – no more SMILF for poor little Rob?"

"Poor little Andy, you mean. It was you who lusted after her."

"Well, she was a hot forty-year-old step-mum, I'll give her that."

"Yeah, yeah. We all know what you would like to give her. Don't worry. They are breaking up because my dad is having an affair with someone at work. I expect her to be not only younger, but prettier."

"Even younger? Brilliant. What age?"

"I didn't ask, but from what he said so far, I would guess ate twenties. But no, I didn't ask him to send a photo, you perv."

"Your dad, man. He's awesome. What age is he?"

"Fifty-two next month," groaned Rob. "It's embarrassing."

"Is it though? When you are his age I bet you wouldn't mind a hot twenty-something to keep you young at heart."

"Not wrong."

"Hey, talking of women, we could go to The Carriage – might see Sarah there."

"And that's supposed to tempt me? We broke up. We don't want to gaze at each other across a crowded student pub with tender feelings of mutual hatred."

"Yeah, she dumped you two months ago and you have been a miserable prick ever since."

"Fuck you." Rob said amiably. "Why don't you ask John to go with you?"

"God, no. The housemate from hell. I can just about stand him when it's the three of us, but the boredom of listening to him all evening on my own? No way. A night in is better than that."

Andy retreated, leaving Rob thinking about Sarah.

They had only been together for six months. The best thing to come out of the relationship was that he had managed to put his virginity behind him. He wasn't too upset when she called it a day, as the relationship was boring for both of them. And she was plain in the looks department, although he had no illusions about himself; he was a skinny geek, no great catch.

But he was clever enough to learn from watching his father. Rob knew that his own attractiveness to women would increase over time as his career brought him more income, wealth and status. A time would come when he had enough leverage to attract sexy women, a time when he would hold the balance of power in a relationship if he played it smart. It was all about being in control!

Until then he would have to accept having less power in relationships with less attractive girlfriends and make the best of it. He had tried to get Sarah to inject some glamour into their love-making. But Rob had never been good at persuading people, particularly girls. Pity people were not programmable. Sarah refused point-blank to wear sexy lingerie or even makeup. She complained he got too many of his preconceptions of sex from internet porn.

Not entirely wrong.

He tapped his keyboard and called up his latest wank website. It was an escort service specialising in elite dominatrices. God, this site was driving him to distraction. These women were so entrancing. But did men actually pay a thousand pounds an hour to be with them?

He had discovered the site two weeks ago. The home page had a tongue-in-cheek business world theme to it: "Do You Need Strict Corporate Governance? Experience Market Domination by Hypnodommes Who Mean Business". Stunningly beautiful dominatrices graced this and the other openly available web pages. They were fully dressed in sexy "office wear" with no more exposure than a flash of cleavage and perhaps a stocking top. But Rob had found even that stuff a huge turn-on.

The camera angle of the photos was usually from a position lower than the women so they appeared to tower over the viewer displaying haughty superiority in their expressions; immaculately made-up faces of breath-taking beauty looked down domineeringly with utter disdain and an aloof assumption of authority.

A series of pages were made out to be a "Goddesses' Guide to Power Dressing in the Office: A Teasingly Sensual Takeover of his Intellectual Property".

There was a section on eyewear where beautiful, hypnotic eyes were framed by elegant eyelashes and stared out from behind large designer spectacle frames. "Accentuate your eyes. Use them to entrance and enchant him. Mesmerise him without mercy."

Another page displayed massive breasts straining against tight blouses, diaphanous materials revealing teasing suggestions of black lacy bras and Basques struggling to contain gigantic tits. "Overwhelm him with your irresistible breasts. Captivate him with a cleavage he would happily be smothered in. Suffocate to dominate."

Tantalising upskirt shots, crotches hidden in shadow with an occasional suggestion of panties. Intricate stocking tops supported by suspenders. "Pull him in, creating an absorbing fascination with scintillating stocking tops and suspenders. Pussywhip him into submission."

There were sections on glossy lips, stocking-clad legs and skirts stretched tight across buttocks.

The footwear page varied from shoe to ankle boot to knee-length boot, all in perfect patent finishes with soaring stiletto heels. "Elevate yourself above him in heels that ensure you look down on the loser. Pierce his peace of mind forever and trample on his self-esteem."

Rob had spent a week masturbating to these pages before bothering to hack into the exclusive gallery. The site explained that the more explicit VIP photo gallery was only available to clients who had used the escort service. Gaining access had not been as straightforward as he had expected. He initially obtained a guest password that worked in some areas, but not the photo gallery. Next, he thought he had accessed administrator's rights only to watch them become inoperable. Finally, he sent an email enquiry and stole the access rights of the dumb employee who responded. Technically illegal, of course, but he was confident the owners of this type of website would not rush to involve the police.

The VIP gallery showed the dominatrices in more explicitly sexual and iconic clothing. Catsuits and corsets made of shiny leather and latex. Knee-high and thigh-high boots, all with punishing high heels. The Goddesses now brandished an assortment of whips, paddles and riding crops with obvious relish. In place of smouldering imperious stares, their expressions were cruel sneers and perfect white teeth bared like a predatory animal about to strike.

Rob regarded this site as his greatest find to date. And this without any real nudity. What was it about dominant women? Like most men, he found the leather and latex arousing and the "toy" weapons stimulating. The suggestion of danger.

This sense of danger was exciting, he guessed, combined with the loss of his precious control and predictability. A power switch. There was a high novelty factor inherent in this fantasy. But he could laugh at the absurdity of finding this type of thing so sexy. He knew these women were only acting; playing a part for profit. The idea of a dangerously dominant woman was simply a fanciful fiction. After all, these sort of women, malevolent sexual predators, didn't actually exist; they were a fantasy and nothing more.

The sleek black car swept forward, relentlessly seeking its goal, headlights stabbing into the winter night. In response, the darkness opened its maw, yawning with a callous indifference.

Samantha sat in the reclining rear seat of the Mercedes S class, casually flicking through the report on tonight's target. It was a short report, a straight-forward case – a twenty-one year old Computer Science student at Derby University.

She gave a jaded sigh. "Easy meat."

She was an experienced head-hunter. Some nerdy student offered no real challenge. But she rallied herself, there was still the siren's pleasure of seduction, the sensual delight of enthralling an innocent. And tonight was special – her hundredth acquisition in her seven years with the Sisterhood.

This geek had triggered an alert on one of the Sisterhood's bait websites, a site appearing to be an escort service specialising in dominatrices and explicitly targeting rich and powerful businessmen. The exorbitant charge out rate ensured that bookings were only from affluent and influential clients, the type the Sisterhood was interested in meeting. The site did lie about the cost of a meeting, however. If an applicant was deemed suitable material, the price was much higher: his willpower, his mind, his very being.

Her target tonight had managed to hack past a number of barriers to gain access to the VIP photo gallery. This qualified him as a member of the second group of people the site acted as bait for: men with advanced hacking and computer skills, a valuable resource to the Sisterhood. He had been detected, counter-hacked and researched. This research confirmed Rob was skilled and intelligent enough to be of use to the Sisterhood.

Samantha felt the car change direction. Looking up, she could see they were leaving the motorway. They had travelled over two hours from the Sisterhood's London base.

"How long until we arrive, Benji?"

"Approximately ten minutes, Goddess."

"Let me know when we are approaching the street."

"Yes, Goddess."

She put the file to one side. By coincidence, the driver assigned to her tonight was one of her own converts, a simple pick-up in a hotel bar back in 2007. Benjamin Swift had been a City banker at a time when the Sisterhood was primarily focussed on amassing wealth and City professionals were attractive acquisitions.

Silly Benji had been an alpha male in his previous life, not inclined to submissive behaviour until he was seduced, drugged and brainwashed by Samantha. His role in finance was exploited until his superiors sacked him after a long series of loss-making "mistakes" which had secretly enriched the Sisterhood. Now, he completely belonged to them; he had distanced himself from his past, any friends or relatives he may have had, and existed only to serve the Goddesses in any way they demanded.

She smiled at the memory. All men were so stupid, so easily beguiled, seduced and enslaved. She particularly loved breaking "strong men", loved to bring them to their knees. In comparison, tonight's task would be disappointingly routine.

This hacker's interest in the website indicated some attraction to dominant women, so she would take control of him without the need for hypnotic drugs. He would be recruited into an existing army of computer experts with roles in hacking Sisterhood targets, maintaining system security, and developing more advanced brainwashing programs for future victims.

Enthralling men like this was essential to the Sisterhood's long term plans. Samantha and her Sisters were beginning to build a better future for humanity, intent on ushering in a new world order where women would achieve their natural role as the dominant sex. For this to happen, men must be persuaded to embrace their new purpose, to serve and obey their Goddesses. A new age was coming.

"Excuse me, Goddess. We are almost there – next turn on the left."

"Good boy. Stop at the corner and wait for me there."

She didn't want her target to see the car as tonight she would be playing the role of a simple barmaid, a dumb damsel-in-distress in need of a brainy computer expert. She chuckled at the thought. Roleplaying was fun.

Samantha opened the customised makeup station built into the car and inspected herself in the mirror. At twenty-five years old, she wore bobbed blonde hair and enjoyed a fresh and flawless complexion, making her look younger than her actual years. She was pretty, yet unimposing with an innocent, angelic face. But behind pale blue eyes lurked a predacious huntress, more demon than angel. She slowly licked her lips. She could almost taste it now.

She stepped out of the car and into the darkness. The winter's icy teeth nipped at her cheeks. She adjusted her shoulder bag and took a deep breath. The exhalation released a cloud of water vapour. Hell smoke.

As she walked down the street, the sound of her shoes striking stone rang out into the empty night. Click-clack. Steel heel, leather sole. Click-clack. Hell on heels.

She reached the house. She smiled. That smile. Hell's belle.

Rob ignored the bell, someone else in the house would answer the door. He heard voices from downstairs, Andy and a female voice. Curious. He closed his laptop to concentrate, remaining seated at the small desk squeezed into his bedroom. Silence. Footsteps on the stairs. Then a knock and Andy stepped in.

"Hey, Rob. Someone here to see you. Needs help with her computer. I offered to do it, but she insisted only you could help her."

As he was talking a blonde girl inched into view, smiling shyly.

"So, this is Rob. I'll leave you in his expert hands."

When she stepped forward, over her shoulder, Rob could see Andy silently mouth "You lucky bastard." before closing the door as he left.

She put out a hand. "Hi Rob. I'm Sam."

"Uh, hi. I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm no one special. I work as a barmaid at The Fox and another student there said you were the man to come to my rescue."

"Uh, right. Who?"

"I can't remember his name now. We don't get a lot of students and he wasn't a regular."

Rob knew The Fox wasn't a popular pub with the student population, but he might check it out in future if this is what the bar staff looked like. Very pretty and natural looking. He couldn't tell anything about her figure as she wore a heavy winter coat that fell to her ankles.

"Okay. What's the problem?"

"I don't really know. My laptop. It's just, like, running really slow. I mean really slow. And I can't afford to pay someone. I hope you don't think I'm cheeky, but this other guy said you would be happy to help."

"Sure, sure. Let's have a look."

Must find out who that person was and thank him, he thought. She reached into her bag and handed him a laptop with a bright pink casing. Rob opened it on his desk.

"Hey, nice model. This must be pretty new. Uh, do you want to sit down? I only have one chair."

"Not just now. You sit while you work."

"So, everything just runs slow?"

"Real slow. Oh, and it does crazy things – like the internet just closes down for no reason."

"You've probably got some malware."

"What?"

"Viruses, maybe other stuff. But it's not a problem. I can fix that."

He started the computer and entered safe mode. As he worked, he watched her out of the corner of his eye as she wandered round the room. Then he noticed the heels, they must have been at least four inches. They made him think back to that website, but Sam was a world away from projecting the dark persona of the dominatrices. When they shook hands she had seemed to be as tall as he was. From what he could see now, she was petite, maybe five foot five? He smiled; cute and short and sweet.

She stopped to examine a poster on his wall. He started to feel embarrassed. It presented a fantasy female warrior: long black hair blowing in the wind, figure-hugging leather armour emphasising an extraordinary body, sword in hand, and a crossbow slung over her back. This was a character from one of his favourite video games and he was worried the poster screamed sad computer nerd.

"Wow! I like it, Rob. Isn't she great?"

"You like it?"

"Yeah. She's so strong and sexy."

No argument here. He was surprised and relieved at her reaction.

"Right, I've deleted your temporary files and have started to download a malware scanner. It will take a few minutes."

"Thanks. What do you think it is?"

"Don't know, but probably a Trojan you've picked up."

"Trojan?"

"As in Trojan Horse. A piece of software you downloaded because you thought you wanted it, but its intent was really malicious."

She was standing next to him now.

"Oh, sneaky. Something that looks very attractive but in reality is out to harm you, take control even?"

He looked up into her soft blue eyes. She looked so pretty and uncontrived. He wasn't any good with pretty girls – they always seemed to have some sort of artifice going on, always two steps ahead of him. Sam appeared to be a refreshing change.

A short knock and the door opened quickly. Andy's head appeared.

"Making a brew run – can I get you guys anything?"

"No thanks," Samantha answered quickly. "We are doing just fine."

There was a chill in her tone of voice, sharp and clear and cold as crystal. Then, to his surprise, Rob felt her hand rest on his shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. He saw Andy pause for a second, eyes widening, before he retreated with a sing-song "Okay." Her touch was delicious and distracting, but he was at a loss as to what he should do or say. The laptop pinged to indicate the download was complete and he gave a little startled jump. She giggled, but didn't take her hand away.

"Um, well, it's ready. We can do a quick scan or a full scan – that takes a bit longer, of course"

"We'd better do it properly, if you don't mind. If you can bear to stand me for that long."

He started the scan. Finally taking her hand off his shoulder, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, so close he could feel her breath play exquisitely against his skin and hair.