The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Owned — The Rival

By Nadia Nightside

Chapter 5

For a long time, Maria had made an intricate, lovely game of seducing men to the point where they would be willing to do anything for her. She was a qualified expert in bringing them right to that special point of blueballs where their judgment evaporated, and any suggestion she had was taken for gospel—and then she could make that state last for months and months, milking their bank s dry.

Fernando, her latest, had been the easiest, really. A venture capitalist with more money than sense, he’d been so desperate for her attention that she’d barely needed to lift a finger. One dinner date where she’d worn a dress cut down to her navel, a few strategic touches on his forearm, and he’d been g over his credit cards within a week. She’d never even kissed him, not really—just let him believe that maybe, someday, if he proved himself worthy enough, she might consider it.

He’d bought her the sports car, the designer wardrobe, paid for her condo’s mortgage for six months straight. All while she’d fed him lines about “taking things slow” and “building a real connection.” The man had probably spent a quarter million dollars for the privilege of jerking off alone in his shower, fantasizing about a woman who could barely his last name.

Before that, there was Marcus, the hedge fund manager. He’d been married when Maria set her sights on him, but that hadn’t mattered. Three months of “accidental” encounters at his gym, wearing increasingly revealing workout attire, and he’d been ready to leave his wife of fifteen years. Maria had strung him along with promises of “once you’re free,” collecting expensive jewelry and cash gifts the entire time. When he’d finally filed for divorce, she’d ghosted him completely, moving on to her next mark before the ink dried on his separation papers.

The orthodontist—what was his name? David? Daniel?—had been pathetically easy. One of her first. She’ picked up on his obvious attraction during a routine teeth cleaning, and within two weeks of strategic flirtation—unbuttoning her blouse just so in his chair, letting her hand linger on his when he ed her the mirror—he was offering to redo her entire smile for free. Veneers, whitening, the works. Easily thirty thousand dollars in dental work, and all she’d given him in return was the occasional text message with a winky face emoji.

But now, transformed by Robert’s power into something beyond mere mortal beauty, Maria realized those men would have done exponentially more for exponentially less effort on her part.

If Fernando saw her now, with her impossibly perfect proportions and those hypnotic emerald eyes that could entrance with a glance, he wouldn’t just buy her a car—he’d sign over his entire portfolio. His house. His company. Hell, he’d probably rob a bank if she asked, and thank her for the privilege of committing felonies in her name.

Marcus would have murdered his wife rather than just divorced her, if Maria had walked into his gym looking like this. One flex of her sculpted abs, one toss of her preternaturally lustrous hair, and he would have done anything—anything—to earn even the ghost of her attention. The jewelry he’d given her before would seem like vending machine prizes compared to what he’d offer now.

And the orthodontist? He’d have burned down his practice, destroyed his career, ruined his life completely if this version of Maria had appeared before him.

It was a fabulous game for her, one that made her feel valued and adored without all that stupid bullshit about love and reciprocation with so-called “men” who obviously didn’t deserve even a fraction of her time.

And now, once Robert entered her life and revealed his Holy Power to her (she capitalized it in her head now, as she did several relating to Him), so much of that teasing and seduction made perfect sense. For example, it had given her a hot sports car to drive around, so she looked like a total fuckqueen in her hot body with a hot car to match, unavailable to anyone but the absolute best Man alive.

For a more pertinent example, she considered as she waited in the Sunshine Insurance Office late that evening, all those designer clothes and thousand-dollar pieces of lingerie that she had made men buy her made perfect sense now. At the time, she bought them because they were expensive and pretty, and she had loved expensive, pretty things.

Now she knew she had them because she was a decoration—a feast for the eyes to be truly enjoyed only by her Master.

This was her purpose. To be so devastatingly, overwhelmingly, impossibly beautiful that men would weep at the sight of her, knowing they could never possess what Robert owned completely. To walk into rooms and watch relationships crumble, watch confident men become stammering children, watch women recognize their own inadequacy in her mere presence.

She was a trophy that breathed, that moved, that spoke—but only ever to amplify her Master’s glory. Every word from her lips was calculated to remind others that she had chosen to kneel for Robert, that a woman of her caliber—a woman who could have literally any man on Earth begging for her attention—had recognized his superiority with every aching, pliant, needy atom of her being.

The ultimate prize that proved Robert’s supremacy over all other men. She existed to be displayed, to be shown off, to make other men shatter in dismay as they recognized the vast gulf between what they could achieve and what Robert possessed.

And fuck, how that knowledge made her wet.

Her outfit was amazing. She wore an expensive green gown with a long scooping neckline layered with priceless emerald stones. It had a wide slit on one side, exposing the entirety of one flawless leg and nearly all the way up to her sopping wet cunt, covered again in emerald-encrusted silk panties. Black diamonds shined on her ears, her wrists, her six-inch tall heels. Her gloves, sparkling green, wrapped all the way up to her elbows. She was a queen, an empress, a goddess, and she very much looked the part.

All of her countenance, her expression, her attitude bespoke her exclusivity, her arrogance, her ability to be beyond anyone but Robert.

Estelle strolled through the door thirty minutes after the agreed-upon time. She wore a tight gray pantsuit. Following after her were the still rather dazed-looking of Sheriff Hanson and Deputy Luciana, a smattering of hopeful lust in her eyes..

Maria, Robert, and company had arrived an hour before, getting everything ready. The inside of the office was cleared out, like a classroom preparing for a circle discussion. All the cubicles and tables had been pushed away to make room for a wide, open area. If Maria knew anything, it was that presentation was everything. Robert waited in the office, with Natalie obediently slurping his cock, while Maria waited to greet to their guests.

Natalie had on a gown of her own, sparkling white and dripping with deep flawless diamonds. It was just a little less expensive than Maria’s—which was, naturally, the point. Her white leather-gloved hands couldn’t make it all the way around Master’s cock either, and in fact had a harder time of it than Maria’s.

Estelle eyed Maria up and down, clearly hoping that there was some flaw she could tear down in the woman’s appearance. But even in the extravagant gown, Maria didn’t look whorish. Simply elegant, beautiful, and perfect.

As always, Maria noted.

“What’s this all about?” Estelle asked. “Where’s Joslyn? She told me she wanted to settle things for good.”

“I’m right here,” said Joslyn.

The police and Estelle had approached Maria quickly in the middle of the office, summoned simply by the beauty of her presence. That allowed Quinn and Joslyn to emerge easily from their hiding space behind a rearranged cubicle and lock the front door. Sheriff Hanson’s hand immediately went to his gun.

“You open that door right now, or I draw.”

“Oh, dear,” said Maria, “don’t do that.”

She took Hanson by the sleeve and guided his eyes to hers. With all the power at her disposal, power given to her by her Lord and Master, she focused on bending Hanson to her will completely with her hypnotic gaze. His gun fell to the floor, and his eyes quickly glazed over.

Maria’s emerald eyes locked onto Sheriff Hanson’s with predatory precision, and in that instant, she became something far more terrifying than merely beautiful. Her irises seemed to swirl with layers upon layers of hypnotic depth, each revolution stripping away another piece of his masculine identity like acid eating through paper.

She watched with clinical fascination as his pupils dilated to swallow the color of his eyes completely, his face going slack as the first wave of her power crashed through his psyche. This wasn’t seduction or persuasion—this was annihilation. Maria had decided in that split second that this man who dared to threaten her Master with handcuffs and imprisonment deserved nothing less than the complete obliteration of his selfhood.

The sheriff’s jaw went slack, a thin line of drool beginning to form at the corner of his mouth as Maria’s gaze burrowed deeper into his consciousness. She found the core of what made him a man—his confidence, his authority, his sense of power over others—and she crushed it like an eggshell beneath her designer heel. Every memory of commanding respect, every moment of sexual potency, every instance where he’d felt strong or capable or worthy—she systematically located each one and burned it out of existence.

His shoulders collapsed inward as decades of masculine conditioning evaporated in seconds. The sheriff who had strutted into interrogation rooms with swagger, who had worn his badge like armor, who had fucked his wife with the confidence of ownership—that man ceased to exist entirely.Maria didn’t just take his will. She took his very capacity for will. The neural pathways that allowed for independent thought, for desire, for ambition—she severed them all with surgical precision. Where once had been a functioning ego, now remained only a hollow shell programmed with one simple truth: he was nothing, had always been nothing, would always be nothing.

His cock shriveled in his pants, and Maria ensured it would never rise again. Not from arousal, not from medication, not from anything. She reached into the deepest parts of his sexuality and strangled it at the root, making certain that the mere concept of his own virility became alien to him. He would look at his own penis and feel only confusion, like seeing a body part that belonged to someone else.

The worst part—the part that made Maria’s cunt throb with sadistic pleasure—was that she left his awareness intact. He would know exactly what she had done to him. He would being a man, what it felt like to have authority and power and sexual potency, but those memories would feel like someone else’s life, a story he’d been told about a stranger. The disconnect would torment him constantly, an itch in his brain that could never be scratched.

She stripped away his ability to feel anger about his condition, his capacity for resentment or rebellion. He could only accept, only submit, only exist in a state of permanent humiliated confused awe at her superiority. His entire emotional range had been reduced to worship and terror—worship of her beauty, terror at her power.

Every memory he possessed of commanding his wife, of making decisions, of being respected—all of it was now overlaid with the knowledge that he had been deluding himself. He had never been worthy of authority. He had never deserved to give orders. The very concept of his masculinity was revealed as the pathetic joke it had always been.

Maria accomplished all of this in less time than it took for his gun to clatter against the linoleum floor. One moment he was a sheriff reaching for his weapon. The next, he was an empty husk in a uniform, a breathing corpse that existed only to suffer.

“What are you doing?” said Estelle. “What the hell is happening? Stop looking at her. Deputy, do something!”

But Luciana was transfixed too. Robert had shown himself at the door of Joslyn’s former office, his pants undone and his wet cock hanging out. He crooked a finger and she walked forward, mouth hanging open with drool quickly slobbering down. Joslyn and Quinn snuck up behind her and undid her gunbelt, but the sneaking was hardly necessary. She was totally gone, obsessed now with the sight of the mammoth, mouthwet cock of her newest crush.

Luciana’s transformation was celestial where her husband’s had been apocalyptic. As her eyes found Robert’s magnificent cock, something fundamental shifted in the architecture of her soul—not breaking like Hanson’s, but rather clicking into place like the final piece of an impossibly complex puzzle she hadn’t known she’d been solving her entire life.

A wave of pure euphoria cascaded through her nervous system, starting at the crown of her head and rolling down through every vertebra of her spine. Her nipples hardened instantly beneath her uniform, not with crude arousal but with the reverent awakening of a supplicant recognizing divinity. Her pussy flooded with wetness, each drop a sacrament, each pulse of her clit a prayer.

The deputy’s skin began to gleam as Robert’s pheromones saturated every pore, giving her flesh an almost luminous quality in the office’s fluorescent lighting. She looked radiant, transcendent, a saint experiencing divine rapture. Her lips parted in a soft gasp that held no vulgarity, only wonder—the sound of someone finally understanding the purpose they had been created for.

Where Hanson had been hollowed out, Luciana was being filled. Every empty space in her psyche that had ached with nameless longing, every moment of dissatisfaction with her marriage, every night she’d lain awake feeling incomplete—all of it was suddenly flooded with purpose. She had been made for this. For Him.

In short order, Luciana was tied to a chair. She only started to squirm when Robert’s cock faded from view, but by that time it was too late. She was tied firm to the chair. A lusty stain appeared on the front of her pants.

“Miles?” she asked, her thoughts returning to her. “Miles, you have to…you have to stop looking at her!”

She was talking to the sheriff about Maria, of course, and the effortless manner in which the dark-haired succubus had completely entranced Luciana’s husband. He slowly took off all his clothes, leaving himself in his underwear, and then used his own handcuffs to attach himself to the radiator. It was cold outside, and the radiator blaring hot, but he nestled against anyway. It would probably leave a long, vicious burn along his skin.

But all that mattered to him anymore was obeying Maria—and she had no qualms whatsoever about hurting this man who had threatened her God.

“Bring her in with me,” said Robert, pointing at Estelle.

The terrified businesswoman, realizing suddenly she was in the company of deities, hardly struggled as Quinn and Joslyn hooked her by the arms and dumped her down into the office. Maria strutted forward, hoping to watch, but Robert shut the door on her and everyone else, shoving out Natalie at the same time.

Maria pouted, but of course she would do nothing to defy him. He was her Master, and he always knew best.

Besides, sweet man that he was, he had left the window open for her and the other girls to watch.