Mesmerizing the Cheerleaders (Magical Mesmerism) Read online

  Mesmerizing the Cheerleaders (Sub Dom Mind Control)

  by Nadia Nightside

  Published by Nadia Nightside, 2013.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  MESMERIZING THE CHEERLEADERS (SUB DOM MIND CONTROL)

  First edition. June 5, 2013.

  Copyright © 2013 Nadia Nightside.

  Written by Nadia Nightside.

  Table of Contents

  Mesmerizing the Cheerleaders (Sub Dom Mind Control)

  What's next?

  “Explain to me again why we are having this meeting? Aren’t you an alumni?”

  “Yes, Miss Fellows. That’s right.”

  The young man, Daniel, leaned forward, grabbing a photo off her desk. He was of average height, average build, his hair short and brown and his eyes distant brown. He wore jeans and a blue hoodie. To be frank, he was rather beneath having a conversation with Joanna Fellows, but as the cheerleading coach of Lovely Valley High School, she had to deal with a great number of undesirables. Constantly, men were attacking her solitude and personal space, trying just to have one more second of her lovely face or firm, delicious figure. As a ridiculously beautiful brunette thirty year-old, Joanna was rather used to it.

  “Is that your husband? Your kids?”

  A frown formed on her her lovely face. “Um, yes. But I don’t see—”

  “How long you been married? Your kid looks like, what, two years old?”

  “Three. And that’s how long we’ve been married, but I don’t see—”

  “That’s good. I’m not really about older women, but you’re so gorgeous, I figured what the hell, you know? You only live once. It’d be weird if your kid was older, though. I don’t know why, exactly, but I know that’s true. So I’m glad she’s young, because you are really just incredibly hot.” He smiled. “You know you’re gorgeous, don’t you?”

  There was such a stream of vileness, such outright contempt for her station pouring from this boy, that Joanna hardly knew where to begin.

  As such, she could only really stammer out a response. “I—you see, now see here, I don’t—what do you mean, I know I’m—”

  She shook her head. This boy was very confusing and right away. He had just stormed into her office and sat down, barely even saying who he was. That was unusual at any time, but especially on a Saturday practice, when practically no one else was at school.

  Joanna purposefully asked for Saturday practices for the lack of distractions—so many of her girls were rather beautiful, and so boys from all over the school would skip class to come and watch her team work out. And probably too, of course, to watch Joanna join in when she had to.

  Joanna, of course, did know she was gorgeous. Joanna was tall, in incredible shape from her many years of cheerleading semi-professionally and then coaching, with beautiful breasts that enabled her to convince most men of anything she wanted to convince them of. Today, wearing her tight spandex coaching shorts and tighter cleavage-baring button-up jacket revealing the lovely deep line of her bountiful bosom, should have been a banner day for getting what she wanted from every man.

  Except for this young brat, of course.

  Her looks were how she landed her super hunk husband, Jerry, who ran the town’s only used car lot. He was rich, and Joanna loved spending his wealth and being the recipient of it. She had three fur coats, her own master bathroom, and a walk-in closet the size of a barn. Now that she had a child with him, she had really locked him in. He loved their little girl, and treated her like a princess, surpassed only by Joanna herself.

  “Look, toots, you don’t gotta be humble with me. I think you’re smoking hot. It’s no wonder you’re a cheerleading coach.”

  This really raised her ire. “I-I-I am the cheerleading director because I cheered all through college and won state awards. It has nothing at all to do with my appearance or my figure or my breasts—”

  “Whoa, hey,” he held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything about your tits. Though they are really nice. They real?”

  “Of course they’re real!”

  She felt stupid for giving him the reason to focus on her tits like that. But all the time, men thought she was a cheerleader just because she had big, firm, delicious breasts. In truth, they were more of a hindrance to her career than anything else. It was difficult enough doing all the back flips and twirls required for cheerleading without an extra ten pounds on your chest.

  She stood up, pointing at the door. Her tits bounced gracefully with the movement. “I really must insist that you leave. Now. You have far outworn your welcome, young man.”

  Joanna felt she had been quite forceful. She felt like he must have really heard her, that there was to be no doubt what she wanted and that he would acquiesce.

  All the same, he remained seated.

  “Nah,” he said, waving a hand. “When does practice start, by the way?”

  “What does that matter? Leave!” She pointed again, jabbing toward the door.

  “It matters because I’m waiting for my girl Valerie. I really, really want to see her. But it’s fine that I saw you first, I guess. It’s just I been soft on her for the longest time. We grew up across the street from each other. She’s really, damned pretty. I think she’s only gotten prettier as the years have gone on, and now other guys have noticed, and I think my chances with her have been drying up, sort of. I’ve never been really good at communicating what I want, though. Lately, though, I got all kinds of confidence. Your tits look amazing in that tiny little jacket, by the away. Do you catch a lot of guys staring at you?”

  Of course, she did. But that wasn’t the issue.

  “Leave!” Joanna’s voice was reaching the very top of her speaking tone, bordering on screaming.

  “No? Didn’t I already tell you no? You gotta listen, babe. It’s gonna be very important that you know how to listen to me in a few seconds.”

  He reached into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a gold pocket watch.

  “I’m calling school security.”

  “All right, all right, just hold on a second.” He was twirling dials on the watch.

  Joanna had picked up the phone, and was searching her desk for the number. The watch started to glow. “W-what is that?” she asked.

  “Oh, this?” Daniel held up the watch. “This is my magic watch. A new friend of mine gave it to me after I helped him fix his car on the side of the road. I’m good with my hands like that. He said he’d been wanting to give it someone who was basically decent. I guess...” Daniel smiled. “I guess I am a little decent. I’m only going to enslave you for sex. Nothing really nasty, though I could make you do anything at all. This watch, it only works on one person at a time, but there’s a loophole around that he told me about.”

  That was it. She was going to slap him. Joanna stood up and walked around the desk. She heard a low, odd humming sound from the watch as she made the turn, and as she turned on him her legs gave out in instant orgasm, every last bit of her mind melting into the background.

  * * * * *

  “Oh god, Monica, I’m so sorry.”

  Lovely, slim Lindsay bent over trying to help the busty brunette up onto her feet. Monica shoved her back, and the pretty girl banged her head against a nearby locker.

  “Don’t touch me, you idiot cow. Maybe if you weren’t such a fattie, it would be easier to not knock into your betters.”

  Monica stormed off, rather enjoying the tears that had started to brim in Lindsay’s eyes from the impromptu humiliation. The stunning eighteen year-old would have been able to do much better
if she’d had a little more time, but Lindsay jostling into Monica the moment that Monica entered the locker room had caught her off guard.

  Calling Lindsay a cow, or even slightly overweight, as about as far as an exaggeration as someone could make about another human being. She was incredibly thin, almost too thin to be cute if it weren’t for her gorgeously styled blond hair and her beautiful face.

  Most every girl on the cheerleading team was just as lovely as Lindsay if not moreso. But Monica knew that if Lindsay or any of the other girls had even a shred of self-esteem, then they would be able to challenge Monica’s spot as Queen Bee, and the sveltely curved young beauty just couldn’t let that happen.

  So, three years ago, when she signed up for the cheerleading squad, Monica started a private war against the egos of the rest of the squad. With Lindsay, this meant initiating a long campaign of digs against Lindsay’s weight, who was at a perfectly healthy size at the time. It was fairly obvious that Lindsay’s eating disorder and subsequent severe weight loss were a direct result of Monica’s constant potshots.

  Good, thought Monica, tossing her hair back and holding her nose high as she approached her locker, set aside from all the other girls—as was the cheerleading captain’s privilege. Other girls deserved to hate themselves when she was around. Monica was better, and deserved to be recognized as such. She didn’t care how other girls learned their place, so long as they did.

  For the longest time now, Monica had loathed most other girls. As far as she was concerned, they were in her way.

  Pulling out her practice uniform from her locker, she reflected on how she especially loathed the new girl, Valerie. Not only was Valerie’s beauty homegrown and natural and pure, it was rather more striking than Monica’s own if one was paying close enough attention. Monica was your classic beautiful brunette, and alone in a room with a man, she was sure she could make him do anything she wanted.

  But Valerie was the kind of beauty that could make a man think anything she wanted. Green-eyed, blonde, with curves that went on all day and legs that didn’t know the definition of “stop,” there was not a fleck of a flaw on Valerie’s angelic figure or face. Her green eyes in particular made Monica green with envy. And so, Monica hated her. Just looking at Valerie, you knew she was the type to be gorgeous long into her fifties and sixties.

  Monica knew she was beautiful, knew she was desirable, but she also knew that had quite a lot to do with her youth. Once she got old enough, unless she had a man firmly manipulated to her needs, she wouldn’t be going anywhere in this life.

  Her mother had been the prettiest girl at Lovely Valley High School. Three years ago, Monica’s sister Laura had been the prettiest girl at Lovely Valley High School. And ever since Monica’s sister had gone off to college to conquer a man and take him as her prize-winning husband, Monica had made it her life’s mission to be the sexiest, hottest, most wanted girl at school in her mother and sister’s place.

  It wasn’t that hard. Monica was perfectly beautiful. With her dark hair, slim body toned from years of cheerleading, and beautiful face, she broke hearts in every room she walked in. Boys or girls—she didn’t discriminate. Most of the girls in the locker room right now probably had some sick, twisted lust/hate relationship with Monica. She took enormous pleasure in the thought that if any of them had lesbian fantasies, they were chiefly concerned with her tight ass and the way it carved into her hot little spandex shorts. She liked it that way—it kept them off-balance and therefore easier to intimidate and manipulate.

  Valerie didn’t have enough exposure with the rest of the girls to work up that kind of obsession yet.

  Today, Monica’s body looked terrific in her tight, spandex practice uniform. The school’s colors were gold and blue, so her shorts were bright blue, tight and effortlessly showing off the amazing curve of her tightly toned ass. Her abs, a perfect combination of smoothness and tautness, weren’t covered at all by the tiny gold cleavage-baring top, with its short sleeves and fun little blue stripes. She put her long hair back in a thick ponytail, ready to work. When Monica showed up to practice, she showed up to show everyone else up.

  The PA system dinged.

  “Monica, come to the Coach’s office.”

  That was odd. Coach Fellows almost never used the PA. Usually, she just shouted from her door.

  Not thinking too much of it, she entered the office. Coach Fellows behind her desk with a young man, someone who Monica recognized remotely. Coach Fellows had a distant, serene smile on her face. Even though she was looking directly at Monica, the beautiful young cheerleader got the distinct impression that her coach wasn’t all there. Maybe it was drugs?

  And why was this man sitting in the coach’s chair?

  “Have a seat, Mon-ic-aa.” Coach Fellows’s voice was sing-songy, tinged with bliss.

  Yes, drugs. It had to be drugs. Still though, the coach was in charge.

  “Yes, Coach,” said Monica, sitting down in front of the desk and crossing her legs.

  She didn’t spare a second glance to the man in the room. A boy, really, barely worth her time. She only dated college guys, and even then, just seniors.

  “Please,” said the buxom blonde. “Call me Joanna.”

  “O...kaaay?”

  That was a near-taboo. The lovely cheerleading coach had insisted time and time again that she be referred to only as Coach, or Coach Fellows. Any attempts to call her something different result in marathons of push-ups.

  Meanwhile, the man behind the desk was just staring at Monica, a small smile on his face. He would been maybe marginally attractive, in an average sort of way, if Monica’s standards weren’t so justifiably sky high. Not just anyone could be allowed to be near her.

  “You’re an incredibly beautiful young lady, Monica,” the Coach said breathily. “I’m sure you know this already.”

  “Oh, I don’t like to make a big deal about it.”

  The man laughed. “Please. Don’t start lying already.”

  “Excuse me?” said Monica.

  He leaned forward. “You make a bigger deal out of your looks than anybody on this planet, I think. You are nothing but your looks, sweetheart. You might as well own up to it.”

  Joanna, next to the man, moaned out an affirmative. “Own up to it,” she whispered slowly, hotly. Her tongue lavished over every word. “Might as well.”

  Monica was becoming...well, she didn’t know what she was becoming. Scared? Maybe a little? Was this how it felt for others when she seemed not to care about what they said?

  “Miss Fellows—Joanna, I don’t understand. Who is that man in your desk? Why is he here?”

  “This is Master Daniel, darling. Isn’t he wonderful?”

  The man—Daniel—banged his hand down on the desk.

  “Unbelievable. All the hell you gave me, and you don’t recognize me.” He shook his head, clearly getting mad. “That’s...that’s mind boggling, it really is. You just hand out abuse like candy, don’t you? Someone needs to do something about that.”

  Monica arched an eyebrow. She could smell it now, the sex in the air. Was it his, or Joanna’s? Both? That was...that was disgusting, was what it was.

  Sex. Ick.

  “Is that a threat?”

  He laughed, hanging his head back. Then he just sort of stayed there, as if he was enjoying something long and thorough, something perfectly executed. His hand went over to Joanna’s hair, alternating between strokes and tugs.

  For the first time, Monica noticed Joanna’s arm movements, her hand pumping underneath the desk. How close she was sitting to Daniel. How she stared at him with complete adoration, unless he motioned with a finger for her attention to be on Monica.

  Monica was no stranger to sex. It was an excellent way to control men. She had never gone all the way, of course, but she had given out her fair share of handies and blowjobs. She could only promise them for money and favors so much, after all, without delivering.

  Mostly, she didn’t enjoy it.
Sex was a means to an end—but she enjoyed that end, power, so very much.

  “Joanna, are you...are you giving him a handjob?”

  Now caught, Joanna seemed just to speed up her efforts, staring into Daniel’s face

  “Of course I am, dear. He deserves it, for working so hard and being so wonderful. Isn’t he wonderful? Say how wonderful he is, Monica. Do it with me. You’ll really enjoy it, I promise. I didn’t think I would at first, but he showed me how wrong I was. He’s so good like that.”

  She stroked his hair, kissing his face just a bit. Her eyes full of worshipful zeal, the kind that Monica had only seen in Joanna’s face before when she had been discussing new cheering routines.

  “B-but you have a husband! A little girl!”

  “Oh, them. I don’t really care about them. Master said I could divorce that fat lout and stick him with the child. At least until she’s old enough for Master to take, just like he took me and he’s going to take you! By that time I’ll probably be too old to fuck him good enough anyway, so I’ll have a perfect replacement on the way already. Isn’t that great?”

  “Shut up already,” said Daniel, putting a hand on the back of her head.

  Joanna nodded happily and gracefully slid down between his legs. Monica didn’t have to use much of her imagination to understand what she was doing. The hot, loud slurping sounds required very little thought to fill in the blanks. A long flush crept up over Daniel’s face. Apparently, Joanna was very good at being on her knees.

  “Look babe. You gave me hell every day that you saw me in school. Which was, you might recall, a whole lot.”

  “Oh...oh.”

  Monica remembered now. A boy in the class ahead of her. She would order up her boyfriends to dump their lunches on him, or beat him up outside the cheerleader’s locker room, or prank call him and tell him to show up at Make Out Point by himself, whereupon she or one of her boyfriends would slash his tires. It was easy to forget doing things like that when she did them so very often to nearly everyone.