The R.A.'s room

You walk to the middle of the dorm to the Resident Advisor's room. You knock. Peter Wolfe answers, wearing jeans and a tee shirt with a Nine Inch Nails logo on it. Peter is a typical white suburban guy, a little too up-tight and picky about dorm policy. He sticks to the rules to the letter. "What's up, Simon?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Okay, come in."

You walk in and close the door. "It's about my roommate. Please sit down."

"I prefer to stand. Is Dan causing trouble?" Peter's face lights up a little, probably from the hope he can get someone written up.

"No, he's not. Sit down, Peter."

Peter blinks and holds himself rather tightly. Peter is definitely a control freak, and he's resisting your power. "You're being rather rude, Simon. What is it that Dan is doing? Or are you the troublemaker?" Peter is getting more excited. You think he really gets off on rooting out trouble or at least finding someone to blame. A real power tripper.

"I'm not a troublemaker, Peter. Simon says, 'Sit! Down!'" You really **** yourself into your voice, trying to concentrate your special power in your words. Not necessarily loud, just forceful.

You see Peter's face get very stern, his eyes slits almost closed, his body tight as a bowstring, quivering with tension. You keep up the pressure on the R.A.'s mind by some innate talent you weren't aware you had. A strangled gurgle escapes his lips, and his eyes close in pain. His knees collapse, and he has **** but to sit on his couch. He gasps for air, trying to suck the entire dorm down his lungs. A small trickle of blood drips out his nose onto his shirt.

You close with him, putting your face about eight inches from his. "Look me in the eye, Peter." He stares at you with fear in his eyes. He keeps trying to look away, but keeps getting pulled back to meet them. "Pinch your nipples really hard." Peter's eyes tighten, but his hands reach up to his chest. "Under the shirt." He moves to go under his tee shirt. He winces as he twists his nipples between his fingers.

"Listen very carefully, Peter, and do everything I tell you to do. First of all, you will ignore any rules infractions I make." He slowly nods in submissive agreement. "If I have female guests after visiting hours, you will ignore it completely. Likewise, you will keep my roommate out of trouble as well. No write-ups for him, just brief lectures of one minute or less in duration. In fact, you will treat everyone on this floor with the same standards."

"Now, to seal the deal -- tell me a secret."

Peter's eyes are stricken with horror. "Farelli is gay!" He whimpers a little, like losing his secrets is worse than losing his will.

"No, that's not what I meant. I didn't know, but I'm not surprised. And so what? Big deal! No. Tell me a secret about you."

Peter cringes, biting his fingers. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and blurts out, "My father beats me. And I like it." He clamps his hands over his mouth.

"Calm down, Peter. It feels good to get that off your chest, doesn't it? You feel so much better for telling me. Don't you?" Peter nods, relaxing. "Tell me, Peter. Tell me how you feel."

"Oh, Simon. I feel so much better now that I've told you. I can breathe again."

"Now, in a minute, you are going to forget that we had this conversation. All you will remember is that I came to tell you that the soap dispenser was empty in my bathroom. You will also unconsciously fear me, treating me with respect and deference."

"Yes, Simon."

You look at your watch. "Twenty seconds." "Five, four, three, two, one."

"Thanks for bringing that to my attention, Simon. I'll get the janitor to fix it tomorrow."

"Hey, no problem. Bye."

"Bye." You walk back to your room. You are suddenly dizzy and nauseous.