The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Owned — The Rival

By Nadia Nightside

Chapter 4

Robert drifted back awake after a few hours. It was late in the evening outside. Beneath him, Natalie obediently suckled at the thick head of his cock.

Robert’s eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the gauzy curtains as he took in the vision before him. Natalie’s slender frame knelt between his legs with practiced precision, her posture impossibly straight despite her oral ministrations. The navy lingerie she wore caught what little moonlight penetrated the room, making her skin seem to glow with an otherworldly luminescence.

Her lips formed a perfect seal around his cockhead, the suction gentle but constant, never wavering in rhythm or pressure. There was no desperation in her movements, no frantic bobbing or sloppy technique—just smooth, controlled worship. Her tongue traced delicate circles around his glans, teasing the sensitive underside with feather-light touches that sent shivers up his spine.

What struck him most was the serenity in her expression. Her eyes were half-lidded, lashes long and dark against her porcelain cheeks, radiating contentment rather than lust. She looked meditative, zen-like, as though this act of service was a form of prayer. The hint of a smile played at the corners of her stretched lips, suggesting genuine pleasure in her task rather than mere obligation.

Her hands rested demurely on her thighs, not touching his body or stroking his shaft—just her mouth working with patient devotion. The navy lace cupped her modest breasts perfectly, the delicate straps crossing her back in an intricate pattern that emphasized her graceful shoulder blades. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder in an artful arrangement, swept aside to give him an unobstructed view of her elegant neck and jawline working.

The expensive stockings she wore created a pristine line from her pointed toes up to where they disappeared beneath the lace panties that matched her bra. Even on her knees, she maintained a dancer’s poise, spine curved just enough to arch her back while keeping her head level—the posture of someone who understood that service and submission could be performed with absolute grace.

Her breathing was steady through her nose, never breaking rhythm, never gasping or struggling. She had clearly been doing this for hours, maintaining the same gentle suction, the same reverent attention. The dedication in that simple act spoke volumes—she would do this all night if he wished, never tiring, never complaining, finding her purpose in his pleasure.

There was something aristocratic about her bearing even in this position. She wore her enslavement like couture, turning degradation into haute art.

Robert felt himself hardening further in her mouth, and she responded with a soft hum of approval, the vibration sending new waves of pleasure through him. Still, she didn’t increase her pace or intensity. She simply continued her patient worship, waiting for whatever command or need he might have.

He reached down and stroked her hair, and her eyes flickered open fully for the first time, meeting his gaze with such pure adoration that it made him gush another hot, sudden load of cum down her throat—which she took with the same regal, eager, demure disposition that she had been sucking him with already. He stayed hard, gifting her with another orgasm, another load, and watched in wonder as she took it with the same demure, devoted ease.

Maria was nuzzled against his bare chest, her body naked save for her glamorous heels. A hot trail of shiny dried cum was visible from her abdomen down past her thighs—she made him gush like nothing and no one else. She had been awake for a while, it seemed like, and when she saw him stirring, her smile was cautious and needy.

Her skin possessed that preternatural glow Robert had given her, making her appear lit from within even in the dim room. Every angle of her face was sharp and defined—cheekbones that could cut glass, a jawline that fashion photographers would sell their souls to capture, lips so full and perfectly shaped they seemed engineered for kissing. Her emerald eyes held depths that transcended mere color, shifting and changing like actual gemstones depending on how the light hit them.

The midnight cascade of her hair spread across his chest like liquid silk, so thick and lustrous it seemed to have weight and substance beyond normal human hair. Even naked and covered in his dried seed, she looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue, like she should be draped in diamonds and standing in front of the Eiffel Tower rather than lying in a post-coital pile of cum-soaked bedding.

Everything about her screamed superiority—from the arch of her foot in those glamorous heels, to the perfect symmetry of her breasts that defied gravity without any assistance, to the impossible narrowness of her waist into the wide flare of her fertile hips.

Yet despite this godlike physical perfection, her eyes held desperate vulnerability as she looked up at him. Her pupils dilated with raw need, her breath quickening as she waited for some sign of his approval. The contrast was intoxicating—this creature of impossible beauty reduced to trembling anticipation by his mere attention.

“You’ll stay, won’t you? With us?”

Her fingers traced nervous patterns on his chest, those perfectly manicured nails leaving the faintest trails on his skin. The woman who had strutted into the police station like she owned the building, who had commanded Joslyn and Quinn with imperious authority and ordered the murder of whoever-he-was.

Submissive. Pliant. Needy. For him.

Even after all her efforts, Maria was still clearly worried about Robert’s intentions. He felt it even despite all her efforts, all her thrills and planned pleasures. Her life and her happiness was still totally contingent on him remaining as powerful as he ever was…and on owning as many women as possible.

All it would take would be for him to think the thought, and her entire mental processes would change. She would forget all about her desire for more power, forget all about her need to see him mighty and cruel.

And yet, that would take the very best part of her away. That simple, needy arrogance; her unflinching willingness to do whatever she needed to make him the most powerful man around because her own ego wouldn’t let her belong to anyone less.

He kissed her forehead, heart skipping still at the simplicity of being able to perform such an act to such an unimaginable beauty, which a month ago would have been the most ludicrous fantasy imaginable.

“Of course, love. You provided a very good case.”

“I just love you so much, Robert. I can’t imagine you going off somewhere…being restrained again. It’s anathema to me.”

He stroked her hair, staring deeply into her eyes—those brilliant emerald eyes that would destroy anyone’s will but his own. “We need to form some kind of plan, though.”

“Plan?”

“For the cops.” He considered. “And for Estelle. I’ve been thinking about her threat to take us over. Why not let her? Put her in charge of it, even, until we meet the COO ourselves. And by that time—”

Maria nodded urgently. “By that time, you’ll be in total control of Estelle! Oh Master, I love it!”

“So.” He drummed his fingers across her hard oblique muscles, taut and perfect. “We invite her to the Sunshine Insurance office. Tonight. Tell her that Joslyn is capitulating totally. Have Joslyn tell her that.”

Maria shoved the dozing Joslyn in the face with her foot. “Do you hear that, girl? Master is honoring your name. Pay attention.”

Joslyn’s eyes immediately snapped open. “Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Master. What’s up?”

But Robert continued talking to Maria, as if Joslyn were beneath his attention entirely. Maria felt her cunt pulse at the gesture. “Joslyn tells Estelle to come over, and then we take Estelle. Then, we convince the cops to do as we say.”

“You could take them too, Master. Luciana wants you. I saw it.”

“We convince them. That’s all.” He frowned. “Maybe just a convincing for Estelle, too. This core group…this is good. I know what to expect from the four of you. Too much and it gets unwieldy.”

Maria took his cock in hand, sliding it with quiet, aching urgency. “You only need to order me, Sire. I can take care of the rest of them for you. I enjoy it.”

Robert smiled. She was more of a harem manager than an office manager, wasn’t she?

Robert pictured Maria standing at the apex of a vast pyramid of enslaved beauties, her emerald eyes glowing with authority as she commanded legions of transformed women. Each tier would be organized by pure aesthetic perfection—those closest to Maria’s own impossible standards would occupy the higher ranks, while those requiring more of his power to achieve beauty would serve in the lower echelons.

She would wear nothing but the most expensive lingerie and heels that cost more than most people’s cars, strutting between rows of kneeling slaves with a riding crop in hand. Not to use violently, but as a symbol—a scepter of her divine right to organize his empire according to her exacting standards.

The most beautiful would lounge on silk cushions, their only purpose to be ired and fucked. They would never lift a finger except to pleasure him or each other for his entertainment. Maria would ensure they understood their superiority,

“Whatever I say, goes. I just haven’t made up my mind yet.”

Her smile indicated that she was fairly certain she knew how she could convince him. But, then another thought seemed to occur to her.

“I’ve been wondering, Sire…do your powers work on yourself?”

Robert had wondered such things in the past. In fact, he was decently certain that he had already used them on himself. Certainly other men didn’t stay hard after having the cum of their life in a supermodel-class beauty. And they weren’t ready to go with an even bigger load just minutes later. But those changes, if in fact they were changes and not just byproducts of his natural proclivity for being a fuckstud alpha male (in biology, if not quite yet in psychology), were subconscious.

“Don’t you like me as I am?”

She looked shocked. “Of course I do, Master! Have I ever given you reason to doubt?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. You’ve always been complimentary.”

Her smile returned. “My point was merely to point out that if you were a bit taller…then I could wear my tallest heels, and still only come up to your chest. And if you were a bit stronger, then you could probably fuck me against the wall for hours and hours. That’s all.”

She said it in such a way that indicated the thought was a ing one, a mere chance inspiration, and not the guided missile of arousal targeted directly at his kinksets that she knew it to be. Robert knew she knew what she had done, and Maria knew that he knew she knew…but this was the game they played.

He had her slide up to his body, taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock. Instinctively, she began to stroke.

Maria shifted her position with calculated precision, arching her spine in a way that thrust her heavy, huge tits forward while simultaneously creating that coveted S-curve silhouette that graced every high-fashion magazine cover. Her hand worked his shaft with practiced expertise—not too fast, not too slow, just enough pressure to keep him hard and attentive without pushing him over the edge.

She rolled her shoulders back, the movement causing her breasts to sway with hypnotic weight, those gravity-defying mounds somehow both impossibly firm and tantalizingly soft. The dried cum on her stomach and thighs caught what little light remained, creating a map of their earlier ion that she wore like jewelry—proof of his virility, evidence of his dominance over her perfect body.

Her free hand traced up her own torso with aching slowness, fingers trailing over her flat stomach, between the valley of her breasts, up to her collarbone. She was touching herself the way she wanted him to touch her, demonstrating what his hands could claim at any moment. Her gaze never left his face, watching for every micro-expression, every hint of arousal, catag what made his pupils dilate and his breathing deepen.

The heels she still wore forced her calves into flexed perfection, creating lines up her legs that drew the eye inevitably to the junction of her thighs where her pussy—his pussy, really—glistened with constant wetness. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other in a subtle rhythm, making those sculpted legs alternate their display, a living sculpture rotating for his viewing pleasure.

Her hair had become disheveled from their fucking, but somehow even that disarray looked intentional, artful—like a photographer had spent hours arranging each strand to achieve that perfect “just ravaged” aesthetic.

“Why, Master, you could make your cock bigger right now and just…make it so big that my little, delicate hand wouldn’t even be able to fit all the way around it. You’d have to change my body to accommodate it...so that I could fuck you better than anyone else could.”

That was too much. As she watched, Robert unleashed on himself, growing his cock in her grip until, indeed, her hand couldn’t even fit all the way around it.