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I visited Becky at the restaurant on my way home. She was ecstatic. I had to remind her not to call me Master in public. She did her best not to appear to be playing favorites, conscientiously taking care of other customers in between visits to my table. She had also brought me a new story to read. It certainly wasn't anything I'd expect a mind-controlled sex slave to write. I smiled and began to think that maybe I hadn't completely eradicated her personality with the Pen. She had certainly taken my advice to heart, allowing the characters to interact with their environment, adding more description (and doing it without slowing the pace of the story) and paying more attention to the personalities of the characters. I wrote a few helpful hints here and there with a regular pen and placed it on the table for her to read when she had a break.

Absently I twirled the Pen around in my writing hand, wondering how I was going to get some extra money. After all, it wasn't going to just be me and Becky anymore after she found our apartment. With the extra two dozen sex slaves, and only two paychecks, neither of them much more than minimum wage, it would be hard to make ends meet. I considered using the Pen to get Becky and myself better, higher-paying jobs. I considered writing up a windfall for myself that would hold us for a few years at least, even if I accidentally netted others. I considered a great many things, and it was only after my watch beeped to let me know it was nearly four that I realized I had been scribbling out my brainstorms. I have GOT to start paying more attention to what I'm doing. I thought. I left Becky a tip, and gave her a kiss on the way out. She acted surprised, probably because the manager was watching, or maybe because I was leaving so soon. I told her I had some things to take care of before she came over. She nodded, understanding. I made my way around the tables to the exit, paid my check and left.

When I got home I found a laptop sitting on my desk, all plugged in and started up and ready to go. It had a 3 1/2" floppy drive, a 100MB ZIP drive, and all the other stuff I'd been drooling over as I watched Mom hog the computer, catching her sleep when I wasn't home, getting dinner started before I got back, returning to the computer, then coming out just long enough to get dinner out of the oven before it burned if it wasn't done before I got home.

"Woo-hoo!" I exclaimed. Dad emerged from my closet and snapped a picture.

"I take it you like your birthday present." Dad said.

"It's not my birthday." I replied.

"I know, but something always happens a few weeks before your birthday so I can't get you the present I want you to have, so I decided to get it for you early this year." I hugged my Dad and he left me to my own devices, silently shaking the Polaroid he had got of my little leap of joy (which was actually kind of like the ones the actors used to perform in the old Toyota commercials from the eighties).

As soon as the door was closed, I immediately set about personalizing my new toy. The first thing I did was use a little Pen power to cause a satellite modem to appear in my desk drawer. After I had installed that (fortunately it was Plug & Play compatible), I went online, amazing myself with the blazing speed, and managed to find an Anime desktop theme, which I downloaded. After I disconnected from the 'net, I installed my new theme and deleted the old ones,.WAV files and annoying screen savers and all. I deleted Solitaire and Free Cell because I knew I could get a Solitaire package from Wes, including both games and ninety-nine more, which would take up less space than those two programs. I tried Minesweeper to see if I liked it, and eventually decided to keep it, on a probationary basis. It was almost six by the time I finished my digital cleansing, and I had gone from having just shy of one gigabyte free to just barely shy of four.

With Internet access and a word processor, I had the opportunity to do my report early. Long habit of working at computers with short time limits had trained me to type quickly and with a modicam of accuracy. With the help of about twelve websites and the Encyclopedia Americana downstairs, I finished in record time. I ran it through the spell-checker, and it only found two errors, and those were both proper names. I added my own name to it, then saved my work. It was getting close to seven, so I emailed a copy of it as a file attachment to a friend of mine in San Juan so he could beta-read it, also sending carbon copies to Wes and Sally. It was always better to have several sets of eyes looking something over, so that more errors could be caught.

The doorbell rang. I knew Dad would be in the garage, trying to repair the distributor on his car, and Mom was ... well, Mom ... and besides, it was nearly seven, so I went to get the door. Sure enough, my cheerleading slavegirls were right on time. I led them upstairs, and before I had even finished closing the door, they were disrobing. They presented themselves for inspection in a double-rank, one line of twelve facing the other. I shut down my computer so I could oblige them. They kept their faces blank and expressionless as I inspected them, getting a major wood as I did so. Testing their discipline, I tweaked, pinched and bit their nipples, but they remained unresponsive, save for a little extra moisture downstairs. I went to my dresser and got out the box of laytex gloves, noticing I needed to buy more before too long, and began a more thorough inspection. It quickly became apparent that many of them were holding back the desire to eliminate. "You didn't use the restroom before you came over, did you?" I asked.

"No, Master." they replied in unison, ashamed at having displeased me. I removed my gloves.

"We can't have this." I told them. "From now on I want you to defecate and urinate before you come over. That way we can get right down to business. You do want to get down to business as soon as possible, don't you?"

"Yes, Master." they replied in unison.

"Alright, then. I want you to form one line leading to the bathroom over there, and when it's your turn at the toilet, I want you to sit down and empty yourselves into the toilet, flush it, then go into the shower and clean yourselves up, and clean yourselves good. The shower is big enough for three. That's how many I want in there at a time. Use the buddy system and clean each other up." I went into the bathroom to make sure the toilet seat was down while they formed a line. As soon as the line was formed, they marched in like robots in a production line. They were well-conditioned, requiring only seconds to defecate and urinate now that they knew it was their Master's wish. The shower ran as the first of the brainwashed cheerleaders finished eliminating and stepped into the shower.

Mindful of people who might come in and see the line of naked mindslaves doing their business, I got out some of my extra fishing line and ran it from my curtain rod to the first loose nail I found in the wall. I pulled an old sheet out of the closet and draped this over the line so the two squads couldn't be seen from the doorway. I went outside to the linen closet, almost breaking my neck as the rug skidded beneath my feet (like always), grabbed towels for the girls, and ran back to my room. I was just in time; the first of the cheerleaders was emerging. I had her dry herself off, then hand out towels to the rest as they emerged. My prick was harder than it had ever been before. I was on a power-trip and I knew it. I looked through my junk drawer to see if I had any of those FunSaver cameras left. Sure enough, there was a whole box with sixty of them in it. Each camera had thirty exposures available. I smiled. As the last of them finished her cleansing, I got out the gloves again and got on with the inspection. I was enjoying their thorough arousal almost as much as they were enjoying being poked and prodded and probed like pieces of meat. They were too well-conditioned to do more than grow more aroused as I moved down the line. I was almost finished when eight o'clock rolled around and Becky rang the doorbell. I took the time to inspect the last one, then removed my gloves and ran downstairs.

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Light was shinning through the window in Helen's bedroom--stirringArrian from his slumber. Slowly opening his eyes, he felt the warm tenderness of Helen's body next to his. He clutched her closer to him, feeling her gently snuggle into him. He thought, 'I'm the luckiest guy in the world.' Helen began waking, when she felt the hands holding her to a bare chest. The memories of the previous night filled her mind. Strangely, she didn't feel awkwardness; she felt a much different emotion....

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And I wanted to be a Suicide Girl so badly. I wanted to be edgy and cute and dangerous. I wanted to dress in black and have piercings all over my body, and I’d even chosen the perfect shade of bright pink to dye my hair, which I was going cut short and streak with black. I just knew that boys from all over the ‘net would drool all over me. I had it all worked out in my head, the poses I’d make and the things I’d wear. I’d even practiced with my camera, taking almost-naked shots of myself,...

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I didn't know what to think when my best friend since childhood had told me that she's gay. Well actually she said she thinks she's gay. I began to feel upset because of one of two reasons. First I thought that I was angry at her for being gay but that couldn't be it because I had no problems with homosexuality. The second reason and more then likely real reason is that I too sort of felt gay. I had been attracted to other women before but never acted on it. I was now finding myself...

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Andrea Perkins was a conservative, cross-legged, straight-laced woman who lived in the neighborhood. She was a natural beauty. Every time I've seen her she's had on very little makeup and is always dressed fashionably but very conservatively. She was the type of mom that June Cleaver could identify with. So when I got a call from her I was a bit mystified why she would be calling me and what was so urgent? I of course knew her son Frank. He is much like his name. He is an average kid of...

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Anna straightened my collar and gave me a kiss on the cheek in front of her mother -- fooling around as though she were the doting mother instead. More privately I had been reminded that I could have my fun out or when I got home, but not both. I didn't point out that, if she wanted to accurately play act Hailey's role, anything I got from Hailey I would have to get from her as well. I had offers from both Ma and Doug to take me to Hailey's house and then drop me off at the club. Even...

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StrandedChapter 6

Michelle decided to leave Terry and end their marriage. She filed for an annulment and he did not contest it, choosing instead to simply walk away from the marriage and all their possessions. Four weeks to the day after she left my apartment, she was back, waiting inside the lobby of my building, courtesy of our friendly doorman who never forgot a pretty face. I was quite surprised, since I had not heard from her since she left, and had no way to really contact her. She asked me to dinner so...

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Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This Ch11

Chapter: November “Nightmares Are Made of This” * Never quite even-handed or necessarily fair, life settles on the precipice of endless balances: wealth and poverty, ambition and apathy, love and hate, darkness and light… dreams and nightmares. Often it seems as if there is an excess of the bad and the good will never come, or not enough of the good, and too soon dispersed. Living in the space between, we try and hold on, to avoid giving up living a dream, just to face hard realities. Jahn had...

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Beth the Cum Slut Ch 10 12

Monday at school, I was still riding a wave of happiness over seeing my dad’s cock and having him cum all over me. I was in a real good mood. At lunch, I saw Larry and his crew in the cafeteria so I went over to talk to them. I introduced myself to the boys and found out they are John, Billy, and Matt. I had to hush them a couple of times because they were getting a little loud and I didn’t want to draw attention to our conversation when I let them know that blow jobs were, indeed, on the...

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A Fresh StartChapter 78 The Carl Buckman Experience Part II

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I recently was overseas for a few months for my job. I was lucky enough to be sent to Dubai for six months. A really nice place with some really different things about it. But that's another story.There's one thing I will say, the locals are very similar to people in America. The more religious they outwardly seem to be the most perverted they are in private. I had a coworker while I was over there that I got along well with. He was a nice guy and invited me to his home a few times for...

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