TRANSFORMATIONS
This is a mind control story covering a variety of hetero and lesbian sexual activities, and female submission. If this offends you, please read no further. All characters are over the age of 18, and all characters and events in this story are fictitious; any resemblance to any real persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.
Once again, I would like to express my appreciation for Hatsuda, my editor for his support and expertise so willingly given.
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I am a slave.
I am a sex slave and Glenn is my master. He took me six months ago. He has instructed me to tell my story so that others could share my experiences.
I haven't always been like this. But let me start at the beginning. My name is Melissa Caxton; I am a thirty seven year old divorcee with an eighteen year old daughter. I own my own business as a financial planner, and although it doesn't provide for extensive luxuries, I make a comfortable income.
I divorced my husband ten years ago. He had always had rather disturbing ideas about sexual activity, but as time went on, he became more extreme. I had a conservative upbringing, and my parents had emphasized that sex had to do with making babies, not for pleasure. I believed this, but I found the birth of my daughter to be a traumatic experience, so I had my tubes tied to prevent the possibility of further children.
My husband didn't agree with this as he had wanted more children. When he realised that this would not be possible, he changed and wanted me to do things that I thought at the time were dirty and depraved and our marriage became strained. He went further and wanted me to engage in unnatural sexual activity associated with my bottom and putting his thing in my mouth.
The end came when he started to call me stupid, frigid and repressed, and one evening, he put me over his knee and spanked me; I wasn't prepared to tolerate this indignity and I told him to move out or I would take legal action against him for assault. He left, the divorce went through and I got a not unreasonable settlement. I never saw him again, nor did I ever want to.
Respectability and decency became my watchwords. I placed a lot of importance on respectability and was quite open about the need for decency and good behaviour. I wore clothes that were conservative and never revealing, blouses buttoned to the neck and skirts and dresses below the knee. And black rimmed spectacles. I didn't appreciate even slightly smutty jokes and comments, and attended church regularly every Sunday where a hat was mandatory. I was a "pillar of local society" and had even been encouraged to stand for the local council.
My long dark hair was caught up in a bun on top of my head and makeup was light and seemed almost non-existent. My underwear and foundation garments were designed to limit any exposure of my figure; my husband had told me that I had "beautiful boobs" (a degrading expression) and a "gorgeously curvy arse" (a similarly disgusting description) and I had attempted to minimise any emphasis on my figure. Nevertheless, I was tall and, I think, elegant and always remained immaculately, if conservatively, groomed
After the divorce, I had no time for men, although I did attract some attention. This was easily rejected, and I devoted my time jointly to my daughter Amanda and my business. I emphasized the importance of Amanda keeping her virginity until marriage and she seemed to agree with me, although many of her peers were sexually active and I worried about the licentious behaviour of these young people.
This is how I was until six months ago, and I believed that I was happy and contented with my life.
Then Glenn came into my life and everything changed. Now I obey him in everything he tells me to do, and I cannot find any way of resisting him. The truth is that now I have no desire to resist him for I am his slave and the whole focus of my being is to make my master happy. This is mainly by giving him all the sexual pleasure that he desires, anyway, any time, any place at his instruction. My former focus on respectability and decency has disappeared and I became his slut, sexually available in whatever way pleases him.
I still don't fully understand how this happened, but it was wholly unexpected and not a little scary. It was a Saturday afternoon, Amanda was out with her friends and I was catching up with housework when the doorbell rang. On the doorstep was a tall young man with curly black hair and bright blue eyes. Quite handsome, I supposed in a young and rather obvious way.
"Good afternoon, Ms Caxton, isn't it? I'm Glenn Hudson."
"Yes, I'm Melissa Caxton, what can I do for you?"
"Would you mind if I came in, please, Ms Caxton, there is something important I need to discuss with you."
"I'm afraid you will have to stay here, Mr Hudson, until you tell me the nature of your business," I replied coolly.
"Mmm, I was afraid of something like this," he said, and pulled a gun from his coat pocket, pointing it at me. "The nature of my business is simple. I am going to make you my sex slave. Now, please don't scream or shout, or I shall have to use this gun in a quite unpleasant way."
He made this bizarre statement quite calmly, as if he was discussing the weather.
I was terrified and backed away from the door as he forced himself in.
"Now then, Ms Caxton, I don't want to hurt you, and won't do so as long as you do what I tell you." He was cool and composed but clear in his intentions. "Just go and sit on that kitchen chair and I will make the necessary arrangements for your enslavement."
To say that I was panicking would be a gross understatement; not so much over his intention to make me his slave, I just didn't believe that, but by the way he continued to point the gun at me. "Y...you ca...can't d...do this t...to me. I'm a de...decent woman and I w...will have y...you arr...arrested," I stammered.
He laughed. "I don't think so, Ms Caxton—let's just see what happens, shall we?"
Keeping the gun pointed at me, he opened a holdall he was carrying and pulled out two handcuffs, locking my wrists behind me to the back of the chair. A similar pair of cuffs was used on my ankles, and he looked at me with a smile that, in other circumstances might have seemed warm and genuine.
I pleaded with him. "Oh god, please don't do this to me; I'll give you all my money, I won't say anything to anybody, just please leave me alone. Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this?" I continued to beg him to let me go, but he ignored my cries.
"Now I don't want to risk you attracting unwanted attention, Ms Caxton, so I'm going to have to gag you. But it shouldn't have to be there for too long." So saying, he pulled out a light perforated plastic ball attached to a strap. He forced the ball into my mouth and pulled the strap over the back of my head.
"Don't go anywhere, Ms Caxton," he laughed and stepped back outside, bringing in a case that he'd evidently hidden there. He returned and set up a laptop computer on the table next to him, plugging the power lead into a power point.
"Good, now let's get to work." He was now all business, but I was terrified, tears were flooding down my face and I fought against the cuffs, but to no effect. "Don't struggle like that, Ms Caxton; you might fall and hurt yourself, and we don't want that, do we?" and he picked up his gun and laid it conspicuously on the nearby table.
"Now, Ms Caxton, let's dry your eyes; all this begging and pleading and all your questions will seem unimportant in a few minutes."
I sobbed, but realised that nothing I said would cause him to stop his evil plan.
"Now, Ms Caxton, I shall put this headset on you and start up the process. You will feel no pain, although there will be a deep buzzing sensation that will grow stronger and it is possible you may pass out." My fear must have shown in my eyes because he stroked my arm with unexpected gentleness and said, "Ms Caxton, you have nothing to fear. You will be perfectly safe, and if you do pass out, you will recover rapidly."
He returned to his chair and also put on a headset, and then pressed some keys on the laptop. As he had predicted, I felt a buzzing sensation deep in my head. It became more intense until I did pass out. When I recovered consciousness, Glenn had removed the headset, the gag and the cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and he was sitting silently watching me.
"Welcome back, Ms Caxton. Now tell me how you are feeling."
"I don't know. I don't really feel any different," I replied
"Sounds good. Now, after that experience, how do you feel about me? Angry? Bitter? Resentful? Hatred?"
"Oh god, I ought to be, but somehow I'm not." It was true. I ought to have felt mad about what he had done, I ought to have grabbed the gun and shot him. I ought to have called the police. I did none of these things, but instead sat and watched him, responding to his questions as he asked them.
"So you're not feeling any of those negative emotions, or any other harmful feelings, are you?"
"No, no I'm not."
He walked over, and stood in front of me, then stroked his hand across my breast, gently pinching a nipple through my blouse and bra. This felt unexpectedly exciting, but I should have objected strongly. I didn't, and simply accepted that Glenn was entitled to do this.
"Excellent," he said. "Now this is what will happen in the future." I shivered, waiting to discover my new destiny. "You are now my slave and will do exactly what I tell you. However, I'm not going to interrupt your business or family lives, they can go on exactly as they have in the past. So far as we are concerned, your role is to provide me with sex however, whenever and wherever I choose. Do you understand?"
I thought about what he had said and try as I might, I could find no way out of this emotional bondage. "Yes, I suppose so."
"You suppose what?"
"That I will do whatever you say."
"Anything?"
