The Truth - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Jon woke with a start. The room was dark and he thought he had been dreaming. “Sandra?” he looked around for her. She was not in the bedroom. He grabbed his robe and put it on as he stepped out of the bedroom.

Sandra sat on the couch. She turned to him as he entered and said, “Can we talk about what happened tonight?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Trust me. I’m not mad. I’m actually turned on,” she stopped. Seeing the confused look on his face, she held up a few pieces of paper. “I know what you did, sort of, and I want to talk about it without you commanding me to forget or something. Just please sit here so we can talk.”

He sat down cautiously at the end of the couch.

“After I read these pages, I thought about the number of times you said ‘I insist’ or ‘believe me’ last night and it all started to make some sense. It’s no longer evening so technically I no longer need to quote please the man I’m with end-quote.” She laughed. “I have always fantasized about being under a man’s total control and you fulfilled that fantasy like a gentleman. So, I thank you.”

“Um, you’re welcome. You’re not upset?”

“Why didn’t you just fuck me six ways to Sunday? Or turn me into a lustful bimbo?”

He didn’t answer.

“I don’t know why either and I don’t know how I feel because some of your controls are still in place. I was hoping you could release them so we could talk honestly. I can’t promise how I’ll feel after you remove those controls but I think after I digest everything that happened last night I’ll see you as the decent man you are.”

“Why didn’t you leave once you knew what happened?”

“Two reasons. I didn’t want to forget being under your control. According to this paper I will when I leave. And two, I can’t leave until I drink a second hot drink because of one your ‘I insists’.”

“Go to sleep,” he said. She immediately slumped back in the sofa. “This is unexpected,” he told no one. Looking around the room for the first time, he noticed she had cleaned up the puddles by the front door.

He went to the desk and took out the pen. After a moment collecting his thoughts, he wrote: “The next time I say ‘be yourself’ to Sandra, her emotional state will return to the state it was in as she walked into my apartment last night. Her mental state will also return to how it was when she walked in last night except she will remember everything that happened last night.

“When I next wake Sandra up, she will sit up straight where she is. From that point on she will be unable to move from that spot on the couch until I say ‘you are released’.

“Whenever I precede a command with the words ‘I command you to’ or follow a sentence with the words ‘I command it’, Sandra will immediately obey the command. She will be fully aware that she must obey the command and that she is unable to resist the command.

“Sandra will remember what happened in this apartment last night. This command overrides the prior command for her to forget when she exits the apartment. Regarding anything that has or will happen brought about by the pen, she cannot discuss what happened, write down what happened, or answer questions about what happened in any way, shape, or form with anyone other than me.”

Satisfied, he got up and returned to the sofa. After settling himself, he said, “Wake up, Sandra.”

“What did-” she stopped mid-sentence. “I still remember. I don’t feel any different.”

“Be yourself.”

“Oh, my- Oh, God, I’m naked.” She shimmied slightly.

“Calm down.”

“I can’t get up,” she wailed, panic entering her voice.

“No, you can’t. Now settle down and calmly think rationally about all that happened last night. Don’t make me insist.”

“You- you-” she took a deep breath.

“Do you feel like yourself again?”

“Why am I still naked?”

“After all that happened last night, that is what you want to focus on?”

She pouted but it was a fake pout.

He looked straight at her, “You said you wanted to talk about last night. So now you are free from all the compulsions I made last night. Let’s talk.” Before she could point it out he added, “Yes, I’ve added some new compulsions but none of them affect your emotions, just your ability to jump up and punch me.”

She laughed. “Well, if I’m going to sit here naked in the flesh I may as well sit here naked in my soul. Last night was amazing.” She tilted her head back in reverie of the evening then just as suddenly looked right at Jon and said, “It was also extremely rude to basically kidnap me and have your way with me.” She paused. “Of course that was also part of what made last night amazing.

“I’m very controlling in a relationship,” she continued. “All beautiful women have to control their men or they get treated like crap. Deep down I’ve always wanted a man to utterly dominate me. But, there’s a big different between pretending to be under someone else’s control and actually being under someone else’s control. Last night, you were in total control and my subconscious must have been doing cartwheels.

“That’s why, as your words made me horny, I also became easier and easier to manipulate. You could have had me calling you Master and myself Master’s Slave if you had wanted. Oh, that is so frightening and so delicious at the same time.”

He waved his hands in front of her. “Wait, let me get this straight. The woman I decided to test out my ability with on a lark happens to be a closet submissive who wants me to keep her?”

“I didn’t say that but it is worth considering,” she pondered. “How does this work? Is the paper special? I know the pen I’m not supposed to touch is involved. Does it work on any paper?”

“I don’t really know. I only received the pen from my late uncle yesterday.”

“I was your guinea pig? You haven’t been planning to take me for some time now?”

“Well, yes. You’re the hot chick in my apartment building. Who else would I test out my new found magic pen on?”

She laughed. “I suppose I should feel complimented.”

“You certainly should,” he also laughed. “Just be glad I didn’t turn you into a prude or something.”

“Oh, that would be worse than death,” she cajoled. “I thought you were a nice guy.”

“Okay, so now what do we do?”

“I don’t think I really want to be a slave. That’s just a fantasy but I don’t want to forget last night either.” She looked at him earnestly. “I want you to take control again but I also want to know that in the morning I’ll still be me.”

“I’ve already fixed the forgetting thing,” he said. “Actually, since you are willing, I wonder if you’d be willing to let me experiment some more. As I said, I received the pen yesterday and there weren’t any instructions about its limitations.”

A look of shock crossed her face, she whispered, “You caused it to rain out of nowhere. What kind of limitations could there be?”

“Well, I’ve tried to change myself a few times but they didn’t work.”

“Well, that must have something to do with you being the writer since obviously the pen can change people. I must have given you a two-hour blowjob and neither my mouth nor my jaw were tired afterward thanks to what you wrote on one of those pages. I wonder what else you could change about me.”

“You don’t need a boob job.”

She knitted her eyebrows in mock disgust. “How about something simple like a manicure?”

“Describe what you want.”

“I want natural fingernails hanging three-quarters of inch long with French tips and a manicure.”

Jon went to the desk and wrote something with the pen. “Okay, say perfect manicure.”

“Perfect manicure,” she said questioningly. Suddenly her fingernails were as she had described. “Oh, my God. That just saved me a hundred dollars.” She squealed with delight then stopped. “Can I get up now?”

“You are released.”

She stood up quickly. “Whoa. Give me a little warning next time.” She zeroed in on his eyes as they watched her breasts jiggle. “Okay, can you magic up some clothes?”

He grinned, “Okay, one moment.” Then, he wrote: “When I finish this sentence, Sandra will be securely strapped into a standard straightjacket with one modification: on the crotch strap are vinyl protrusions placed and shaped perfectly to massage her clit and her anus whenever she struggles against the jacket.” He placed the period with a flourish.

“Hey,” she yelped, finding herself wrapped in a straitjacket. “What did you do?”

Jon could not help himself from laughing at the look of shock on her face. Then he spoke seriously and overly strict diction, “I shall note that I can indeed magic up a garment.”

“This is not funny.” She walked toward him and stopped. “What is between my legs?”

“A straightjacket has a strap that goes between your legs so you can’t pull the jacket over your head.”

“I know that.” She squirmed. “It’s rubbing my—What did you do?”

“Struggle and find out,” he stuttered out between laughs. “I believe you wanted clothes so I would stop looking at your boobs. I barely notice them under all that canvas so I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“You know exactly what the- Those things down there feel even better when I try to escape.” She shook her head. “Regardless, get this thing off me.”

“How good do they feel?”

“Get. It. Off. Me.”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll gag it.” He grinned evilly.

She glared at him then asked evenly, “Would you please remove this straightjacket from me, dearest Jon?”

“That’s better,” he replied. “Magically or should I undo the straps?”

“Whatever’s faster.”

“Magic it is.” He wrote: “When I finish writing this sentence the straightjacket on Sandra will appear on a kitchen chair, no longer encasing her.

“The next time Sandra says, ‘That’s what I want to wear’, she will believe with all her senses that an outfit she has just described has magically appeared on her body although in reality she will still be naked. She will not realize the outfit does not exist until I remind her she is still naked. At that moment she will realize she was tricked into thinking she was clothed. Once the joke has been revealed, I can say ‘okay, wear it.’ And she will become clothed in the outfit described.” He put the pen down and noticed Sandra fingering the crotch strap of the straightjacket. “We could put that back on you.”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, fully describe an outfit and when you are done say, ‘That’s what I want to wear.’ It will then appear on your body.”

“Any outfit?”

“I suppose. Don’t cause a famous outfit to suddenly become missing from some museum somewhere. Just describe something nice.”

“Okay, as foundation I’m wearing a perfectly fitting black lacy bra and panty set. The outer top is a tight, dark green, cashmere sweater. The matching bottom is a knee-length pencil skirt with a black lacey pattern on a hunter green background. It is complemented by noir knee-high tights with a hint of green tint in them. A pair of hunter green, four-inch heeled patent leather pumps with matching clutch having black trim accessorize the ensemble. Gold hoop earrings and an emerald necklace on a gold chain finish the look. Oh, and touch up my makeup. That’s what I want to wear.”

“Wow, nice,” he guessed.

She looked down at herself. “Oh, it looks gorgeous. Do you have a mirror?”

“In the bedroom, on the closet door.”

“Oh, yeah. Be right back.” Her voice trailed away as she ran out of the room.

“It’s just perfect.” She called from the bedroom. “Oh, I should have added a ring to compliment the French manicure.”

“Maybe next time, Sandra.”

She strutted back into the living room, unaware of how walking like that made her breasts sway even more than usual. He silently sighed.

“Let’s make you an outfit and go out.”

“It’s only 7:30 in the morning. I think the clubs are closed.”

“It’s Saturday, too, so I can’t even show this off at work.” She complained. “At least I have this outfit. That mess I was in last night is probably ruined from sitting in that bag all night.”

He laughed. “We can whip up a whole wardrobe if we need to. I don’t think you can complain about last night’s outfit.”

“How about breakfast? I’d love a short stack of caramel apple pancakes with two eggs over easy and glass of orange juice.” She glanced at the pen hopefully.

He wrote: “An expertly prepared version of the breakfast Sandra just described, for two, appears on the kitchen table with appropriate plates and flatware the next time I put this pen down.” He sets the pen down and the room is suddenly scented by apples and caramel. “That smells good.”

She stepped over to the table. “Oh, it’s perfect.” She sat down and cut into the pancakes. She bit into it and moaned, “Oh, that is divine.”

They eat quietly until there is little more that crumbs left. “We didn’t eat all night, did we?”

“No, you were too busy showing off how you can give two-hour blow jobs.”

“It’s not my fault you turned me into some kind of sex machine.”

“If I commanded you to do nothing but masturbate forever and hooked you up to an I.V. food drip, I bet you would play with yourself until you died of old age.”

“I’d prefer not to find that out.” She replied. “Besides at some point I would not be properly lubricated.”

“I can fix that.”

She was about to admonish him when she stopped herself. “Make it so I’m always lubricated exactly at the level needed to maximize pleasure when I’m sexual aroused. And make me immune to yeast infections while you are at it.”

“If I wrote you were immune to cancer, how would we know if it worked?” Jon wondered aloud.

“We wouldn’t,” she said. “Wow, you could change the world with that pen.”

“Um, probably but that is not a good idea,” Jon said. “My uncle said subtlety is the best way to use the pen. He noted that obvious use of the pen might attract undo attention. It’s not like I could stop someone from shooting me if I didn’t plan ahead for it.”

“Subtlety? You made it rain on a clear day.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about subtlety at the time,” Jon admitted with a leer. He got up and said, “I’ll take care of the dishes.” He went to the desk and wrote: “When I finish this sentence, the apartment will be totally clean with everything that belongs somewhere where it belongs and objects lacking a designated place left where they are.”

“Woah,” Sandra exclaimed. “That was more than the dishes. Can you clean my apartment to?”

“What about your roommate? Won’t she notice?”

“I forgot all about Debra,” Sandra gasped. “What will I tell her about where I’ve been?”