Best Served Cold

It is called the "device". Not it's official name but it is what Dr. Marcus Taylor calls it. It is the size of a car fob and weighs only ounces but it can make your dreams manifest.

The device emittes a low frequency pulse that can put any female over the age of 18 into a highly suggestive state. Marcus included a few base commands into pulse. 1) leave to a secure location. 2) take a picture of your face, breasts, and crotch. 3) Text picture to this number, and waited for instructions. He reply would be a selfie of himself "this is the face of your master, if he gives you a command in person or by a text from this number, you will obey like it's the most important thing in your life."

Could the device be used to take over the world? No, but it could be used for other fun things.

Marcus used it to get a free apartment uptown. He simply found a condo stood outside, pressed the button, got a blow job from the owner, then had her move permanently to her summer home, give him the keys, and pay for the utilities for him, her master.

As Marcus stood in a long line to get his coffee, he pressed the button on the device in his pocket. Every woman in the coffee shop, even the female baristas and manger soon formed a line for the bathroom like it was their goal in life while Marcus casually walked to the counter.

The coffee shop had been the haul. His new slaves worked all throughout town, which meant he didn't never had to buy food or clothing or worry about paying. All his slaves were happy to obey.

Every morning, he woke up and took a shower. Officer Shirley Watkins stood nude in his bathroom and held out a towel. She would arrive by herself, go to his apartment, use a pass key she only rembered in her subconscious, stripped out of her uniform, then walked to the bathroom, stood at attention holding a towel between her arms. Reduced to a human towel rack. When Marcus was done showering, Shirley redressed and returned to her duty unaware of the events of the last 45 minutes.

When Marcus went in the kitchen, Andrea Commo was making his breakfast. The plump Italian mother of 2 dropped her kids off at school . She then went to Marcus's condo, entered the passkey, stripped, put on an apron, and the cooked Marcus breakfast. He drank his coffee with a good view of her plump ass and shapely legs as she bent over to take the blueberry muffins from the oven. As he ate, she cleaned up from cooking then redressed and went onto her job at the bakery.

Daily Marcus would select 2-4 different women to arrive and clean the condo. One morning, Marcus selected Amara Al Bashere a beautiful olive skinned woman with perky breasts and a thick dark bush. When she arrived with a Latina construction worker and a plump mature office manager to clean, Amara was in her abaya and hijab.

Marcus was fascinated by the power of the device. The device had obviously bypassed the woman’s internal religious devotion and moral scaffolding. He wondered how far he could push things. Could he rewrite someone. The idea made him salivate.

As the 3 woman redressed to leave and return to their lives, Marcus had Amara stay with him a little. She sat across from him on the couch. Only 5 foot 3 and slightly more than 100lbs she was as intimidating as a mouse.

"What is your name?" Marcus asked. "Amara" she replied calmly. "Amara do you feel trapped in your life? Like a boat on the waves? That your every decision in life was predetermined but your family or your religion?" Macus asked. After a few minutes of silence "yes" she said in a whisper. "Good, I can help. That is what good masters do" Marcus said confidently. "Today's begin this brave new world you must sacrifice a piece of your old life. Something with power and meaning only to you" Marcus said trying to be calm.

Amara was silent, her brown furrowed in thought "my hijab, it is a symbolic of my faith, a symbol of my community, it is important to my life" she said calmly with a hint of wavering. Then she removed it then folded it with reverence and placed it on the table letting her dark hair spill down her back.

Marcus smiled he was almost there. He placed an empty water glass to her forehead. "You will fill this glass with your thoughts, your memories, and everything that makes Amara, Amara. Then when it is full you will give it to me" Marcus ordered. After a few minutes Amara offered him the glass. Marcus made a gesture of pouring out the glass and as he did Amara slipped sideways to lay on the couch.

"Where are you?" Marcus asked. She only sighed. "What is your name" he asked "I ... I don't know, I'm so confused" she replied. "What do you remember?" He asked. "Nothing. I can't remember anything" she sobbed.

Marcus smiled. "Your name is Indira Taylor. You are my wife, my companion, servant, lover, and partner in crime. Your goal in life is to satisfy my needs, and fulfill my wishes and dreams like they are the most important things in your life. You were cast out as a child. I heard your plight and send you to the best schools and took care of you. What started as gratitude and respect has blossomed into deep love. We were married and you pledged to love, honor, and Obey your husband as all good wives do" Marcus fed her empty mind.

It is important to give them a new name. Marcus wrote later in his journal. An empty mind seeks to grasp anything and if you let them keep their name it is a lifeline their old persona could use to return.

She lay there for a few minutes then sat up. "I'm sorry beloved, I must have asleep" Indira said stretching. "Maybe you need a hot shower" he offered testing if his programing held. Indira got up, kissed Marcus the removed her clothing on the way to the shower. As she stood under the hot water, any vestiges of Amara washed away and the seeds of Indira that Marcus planted took root.

As she stepped out of the shower, she knew she was a powerful, confident woman, how loved her husband, and obeyed him as all good wives should.

Marcus apologized that the cleaners misplaced all her clothes. They spent the day ordering her new clothes that showed off the body she was so proud of. Marcus told her stories of their life together. He told her of his family that treated him horribly his entire life. She hated them for hurting her beloved and didn't remember them at her wedding.

That night as Indira rode her husband. As his cock pressing up into her and she orgasmed for the third time, all she could think was her life was perfection.

In the morning, Marcus texted the slave who owned the condo and had her return home to givd him her summer home. She did so without question.

Marcus and Indira Taylor moved to a 3 floor house in a forest clearing, half an hour away from the closest town.

Life was good until he got the text:

-Marky we will be there in 2 weeks. Mom, Gran, and I. Can't wait to see you big bro.

Marcus went pale, they were coming? How did they find him? It must be Gran's people. He would need a plan.

End Chapter one.