Chapter 2: Interlude: Loose End
Samara Ruiz is a proud mom. She has watched her daughter graduate High School in the top of her class. She watched Miranda compete for a space in the Olympics.
Samara's only regret was her husband did not live to see it.
For the last few days during winter break Samara had been visiting. Miranda and her roommates had showed her around town. Samara had been impressed by the changes in her daughter. She was more confident, more assertive. She had a spark in her eye that was new and exciting.
"Thanks for showing me around girls," Samara said with a tear running down her cheak."You three take care of each other."
"We will, Mrs. Ruiz," Sadie replied with a grin.
"Oh, Mija your father would be proud of the woman you have become" Samara said hugging her daughter with all of her strength. "Thank you, Mama" Miranda replied. "I appreciate it."
Samara released her daughter and turned to leave, "I love you Mija, be safe."
"Love you too, Mama. Safe flight." Miranda waved as her mother got into the uber and the car drove off.
Miranda walked back upstairs to their apartment. It was only 8am on the east coast Vanessa and Sadie had gone back to bed trying to take advantage of their last day of break. Miranda decided more sleep would be incredible and went back to bed herself.
Samara decided she needed to stop off and thank Dr. Harris personally. During her visit she noticed the change in Miranda and her teammates. They seem more focused and more assertive. Miranda was being the woman Samara had always dreamed for her daughter.
"It's fantastic to meet you Mrs. Ruiz." Dr. Harris said pressing her a stream cup of coffee into her hand.
Samara graciously accepted the coffee and took a sip. The warmth spread through her, a pleasant contrast to the cool morning air. "I just wanted to thank you, Doctor Harris. Miranda has changed so much for the better since she started working with you."
Dr. Harris smiled, a slow, predatory grin that made Samara's breath hitch. "Call me Thomas, please. And it's my pleasure. Miranda is a talented woman, and it's been a joy to help her reach her full potential."
"You see... everyone has a certain degree of noise in their head. What I do is help our athletes minimize that noise. To simplify the explanation." He explained.
Samara nodded then took another sip. She wished she could minimize thr noise in her head. Samara worried about Miranda being safe, Miranda was so far from home, how would she take care of her if she wasn't around. Samara was lonely, her husband past away almost a decade ago, it had been so long since she had been intimate with a man. She worried about paying the bills with her job. She suddenly felt the weight and the noise of doubt in her head.
Samara sighed looking in to her half drank coffee.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ruiz are you ok?" Dr. Harris asked taking his seat.
"I think you were right about the volume of the noise in someone's mind" she said barely a whisper.
"Would you like to try to soften the noise?" Dr. Harris said raising an eyebrow.
"Si... yes, yes please" she whispered wiping the tears away.
Dr. Harris moved his chair around so he could look Samara in the eyes. "Please put your hands in my hands and look deep into my eyes"
Samara did what he asked. His voice sounded more confident somehow more dominate. She couldn't help but listen.
"If you think it would help to close your eyes please do so. If you feel comfortable with me. I'm only here to help" he said his voice was soothing. "If Miranda trusts me shouldn't you?" He asked but it was less of a question and more of a command.
Samara closed her eyes. He was right Miranda trusted him and she trusted her. Dr. Harris smiled as her eyes closed. "Now next step is your breathing. Let your breathing match your heart beats. Focus on that" he instructed. Samara's chest rose and fell in sync with her heartbeat.
Samara was concentrating on her breathing, her heartbeat, and his words. The noise, the stress, the anxiety in her own mind diminished.
"OK, You are doing good, such a good girl" he said with a smile. She sighed. "Did you know, that the noise is all in your conscious mind? Now if you think about your mind like a house. We are going to lock the noise in your conscious mind then move to your sub conscious to run things." He said with a sly smile.
It all seemed pretty reasonable to Samara. He could lock her noise away. If that was what it took, she would do it. "Yes" she whispered and nodded slightly.
Thomas smiled to himself. He caught her in his snare. Between the drops he put in her coffee and the heat in his office her resistance to influence had been diminished to such a small fraction.
"Oh no, that noise doesn't like being locked up. You must hold it back. I will run things from your subconscious.
"It sounded like so much good sense. The noise in her head was too strong. It was her head. It was her job to hold it back. She trusted the doctor because her daughter did. " Samara thougt.
"Open your eyes." He ordered. She obeyed. The light behind her eyes was gone. "Stand up." He ordered and she obeyed without question. Now the final test. "Remove your dress" He ordered.
Samara's eyes never left his. She pulled the ties at the front of her dress. Then bending, she pulled the dress over hear head. Then returned to stand at attention. Her gold crucifix on its gold necklace rested between her large breasts.
Samara hadn't been in her underwear infront of anyone since her husband had passed away. Right now it didn't matter, nothing matters, her subconscious was running her body, and he was running her subconscious.
Thomas's eyes roamed across her body taking in every curve. His techniques was flawless as usual. The woman was now a mere puppet, her subconscious mind fully under his control. She stood there, her body trembling slightly, her large breasts heaving with every breath she took. Her nipples were hard and pointed, poking against the flimsy fabric of her bra.
"Turn around," Thomas ordered, and she obeyed immediately. He watched as she turned, revealing her round ass, encased in a pair of simple, cotton panties. He could see the faint line of her thick bush of pubic hair pressing against the fabric, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants.
Her face was a mask of apathy and obedience. Her conscious mind was engaged in a battle to hold back the noise while her subconscious just obeyed.
She was his now. She turned around slowly, her hips swaying gently, and faced him again. Her eyes were glazed over, her gaze fixed on a point just above his head. She was a picture of compliance, waiting for his next command.
"Come here, Samara," Thomas ordered, his voice a low growl. She walked towards him, her hips swaying more pronounced now, her body fully under his control. She stopped right in front of him, so close he could smell her perfume, a mix of vanilla and something musky that was all her own.
He ran a finger tracing a line down from her cheek to her neck then to her breasts struggling to be confined in her cotton bra. Her hard nipples pushing against the thin fabric. He could see the outline of her areolas, dark and inviting. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.
"Turn around," he ordered, his voice a low rumble. She obeyed instantly, presenting her ass to him. He ran his fingers over the round globes, feeling the cotton of her panties between his fingers and her skin. He slipped a finger under the elastic, tracing a line from her ass to her pussy. She was wet, her juices soaking through the cotton.
He pulled her panties down, exposing her bare ass to him. "Bend over my desk" he ordered.
Samara obeyed without hesitation, her hands gripping the edges of the desk. She was panting now, her body responding to his commands, her pussy dripping with need. Thomas walked behind her, his cock throbbing in his pants, eager to be released. He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and let them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them, his cock springing free, hard and ready.
He ran his hands over her ass, spreading her cheeks, admiring the sight of her wet cunt. He dipped a finger into her juices, coating it before pressing it against her puckered hole.
He entered her slowly. A little bit then pulling out almost completely. Then deeper. His hands on her hips.
He pushed in, his cockhead stretching her ass open. She gasped, the sensation almost too much, but her body adjusted quickly, and he slid in deeper. He groaned, the sound deep and primal. "Fuck, you're tight, Samara. So fucking tight."
He began to move, slowly at first, then faster. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. She couldn't help but push back against him, matching his rhythm.
"Look at you, slut. Taking my cock in your tight ass like a fucking pro." He slapped her ass, the sound echoing off the walls.
Her eyes closed. In her mind some part of her knew it was wrong. This added to the noise in her mind that she was trying to hold back. Her subconscious was in control and he controlled it. She had no choice but to obey.
Her mind was gone, replaced by the voice of her Master. She was a puppet, a toy for him to use. And he was using her, fucking her ass, stretching it to accommodate his thick cock.
He slapped her ass again, harder this time, leaving a red handprint on her skin. "You like that, don't you, you fucking whore?" he growled, his voice laced with contempt and lust.
Samara could only moan in response, her body doing all the talking now. She pushed back against him, taking him deeper into her ass, the pain and pleasure mixing together to create a sensation she had never felt before.
Thomas held her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he fucked her, his breath coming in short gasps.
"Fuck, Samara, you're so tight, so fucking tight," he grunted, slapping her ass again. "You're my little slut, aren't you? My little whore."
She moaned, her body shaking with each hard thrust. He pulled out suddenly, leaving her empty and wanting. "Turn around," he ordered, and she obeyed, turning to face him. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her knees, pushing her head down towards his cock. "Suck it," he commanded.
Samara opened her mouth and took him in, his cock hitting the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, but he held her head in place, forcing her to take him deeper. "Fuck, yes, that's it. Deep throat this cock, you little slut."
She began to suck, her head bobbing up and down on his shaft. He groaned, his hips moving in time with her, fucking her face. He looked down at her, her large tits swaying with each movement, her eyes watering as she struggled to take him all in.
In her subconscious mind there was a mantra 'obey, be a good girl, good girls do what they are told'.
She took his cock deeper, her breath ragged and desperate. His balls slapped against her chin as he drove his cock in and out of her mouth. He looked down at her with disdain, her eyes watering from the invasion, her nose squished against his stomach. He felt his orgasm building, his balls tightening. He held her head still and thrust in hard, his cock hitting the back of her throat. He grunted, "Fuck, yeah, swallow it, you little bitch." He pulled out, his cock pulsing, and came on her face, his come spraying across her cheeks, her forehead, and in her hair.
She took it all, her eyes closed, her mouth open, trying to catch what she could. He grunted, his body shaking as he emptied himself on her. He stepped back, his chest heaving, and looked down at her. She was a mess, her face covered in his come, her hair a tangled web of spit and semen.
"Look at you, such a fucking slut," he growled. "You look so pathetic, so used." He ran a finger through the come on her face, scooping it up and bringing it to her mouth. "Open up," he ordered.
"Taste your master." Samara opened her mouth and he slid his finger inside, smearing his come across her tongue. He pulled his finger out and she swallowed, her eyes watering from the salty taste. "Good girl," he praised, touching her head gently. "Now clean yourself up."
Samara stood, her body shaking, her mind empty. She went to the bathroom in Thomas's office, her steps slow and mechanical almost sleepwalking but with purpose.
She washed up. Her hair was wet. Her makeup was smudged. She wore only her bra, now wet, and no panties. Her Crucifix hung between her breasts. She didn't recognize herself, but her empty head would recognize much in this state.
When she returned to Thomas, he was sitting at his desk. 2 women were standing to his side.
"Debbie, take her to our home. Put her to work. She can be our little house slave." Thomas said with a sadist smile.
"Won't Miranda notice she is missing?" Lauren asked.
"No. While Samara here was washing up, I used her phone to text our Miranda that she arrived home safe and sound" Thomas said laughing.
Samara just stood at attention. Not hearing or thinking. Just empty.
"Samara, go with Debbie. Follow her instructions. We have a new purpose for you." He said calmly.
"Yes ... I will obey" Samara said sleepily then followed the plump blonde woman just as her master ordered.
Thomas watched the two women leave and then turned to Lauren. "OK, what do we have planned for our Bandits to hit next?"
End Interlude.