Path of least resistance

I called Kim this morning, on her mobile, to get her through the guilt that was inevitable after yesterday. She said she was fine but I could tell she was on edge and unsure of what to say or do. I reiterated that I really liked her and would like to see her again.

"I would really like to," she said, "but it's just not fair to John. I don't want to lie to him."

"Well maybe you shouldn't," I said.

"What do you mean."

"I mean, maybe he wouldn't mind?" I said. Silence. .

Of course, I didn't expect her to ask John if he minded. I did know, however, from talking to John, that the general topic had come a few times. John's urges were too strong and deep-seated, to stay buried forever. Unfortunately, his ham-fisted attempts to explain himself always ended in Kim's tears. After that, his shame meant that John would bury his desires for a few years. But the pressure inside him would build up again and erupted into the open, as it had done when I came across him. My purpose was simply to help her join the dots in her mind.

"I have a present for you," I said, to break the silence.

"Oh, really! she said," as if she had just woken up, "what is it?"

"Well, actually, two presents," I said. "Both are books I think you will really like."

"That's a really kind thought but..."

"Did you enjoy yesterday," I asked.

"Yes, much."

"Then meet me for lunch on Thursday, to collect your presents. And that will be it. I'll never bother you again if you don't want me to," I said.

"I'll think about it."

"OK, I'll wait for you at the same place, the same time on Thursday. Call me if you are not going to make it."

She agreed, taking responsibility for the next step. If she does nothing, we meet. I know she wouldn't just not turn up. To avoid the meeting, she will have to make contact and say no. The easiest thing to do is to meet and that's what I think she will do. The path of least resistance.

Good things come in threes

I arranged to meet Kim at a gastropub in the country, with a river and woodland walk nearby. It was a public holiday in England today, so timing was a slight misstep on my part. I contemplated delaying until another, quieter day but "bird in the hand" and all that. Fortunately, illness has no respect for public holidays, so at least Kim's didn't have to make up an excuse for going out, as she would be doing that anyway to see her patients.

I turned up early, to ensure I was there when she arrived. I sat facing the door. As Kim came through the door I stood up and smiled. She was wearing black jeans,  a paisley blouse and black pumps with a slight heel. As she got closer I could see that she had taken the trouble to make-up and was wearing modest ear-rings. She didn't look great but she had clearly made an effort. I stretched out my arms in greeting. She responded, as the middle-classes are programmed to do, by taking my hands and doing an air-kiss on each cheek. Mwa. Mwa.

"You look great!" I said.

"Thanks, just swapped my nurse's blouse for this one. Otherwise it's my uniform really."

I raised my eyebrows. "Shame you changed. I love women in uniforms," I said.

"Your jacket is my car," she said. "Don't let me forget. After all, it's the reason we are meeting."

"Is it?" I said, enjoying blushes.

As she sat down, I poured her a glass of wine.

"I shouldn't, I'm driving, " she said.

"Go on, one wont hurt."

Needless to say, it didn't stop at one glass. In turn, I asked her about herself, her family, her husband, her likes, her dislikes and her dreams. With the help of the wine, she talked freely and candidly, as people often do to strangers, when those closest don't really listen. She might love John but she wasn't what I would describe as happy.

We ate, talked and drank for about two hours. When it felt appropriate, I said, "I really like you."

"I like you too," she said, smiling with obvious pleasure.

"What would you say, if I told you that I engineering that whole dry cleaning thing, just so I could meet you again," I asked.

"I wouldn't believe you but I wouldn't be upset if you did," she replied. And she just sat there, smiling, slightly inebriated.

As I called for the bill,  a concerned look broke on her face. "I'm not in a fit state to drive,"she said.

"Nor am I," I lied, as I had taken care to drink very little. "There's a lovely walk along the river, let's walk it off". She agreed without hesitation.

It was quite busy but when we got to a quiet spot, I took her hand and pulled her towards me. I honestly think I heard her sigh as I kissed her, holding her tight. I could feel her heart pounding. The adrenalin and alcohol running through her veins meant that, from here on in, she would associate me with excitement, danger and passion. First impressions stick.

Of course, she made the usual objections, along the lines of "I shouldn't be doing this," but I applied my "three times rule" and snogged her three times. Soon, I will make love to her three times. Perhaps no more than that before I fuck three times and many, many more. But that will be the beginning of her journey into the dark corners of my mind.

Before we parted, I asked her if I could see her again. She said, unconvincingly, that she "wasn't sure it was a good idea." At that very moment her mobile rang. It was John. She was flustered and lied that she had just come from seeing a patient. I was pleased that I was there to witness that lie. Two more lies and we are on our way.

Turning the motor

I forgot to mention that I had a bet with John on the outcome of Saturday's rugby. It was a close run thing but the team I picked scraped home. John's forfeit was to deny himself orgasm for a week. Orgasm denial is a powerful tool when dealing with sexually submissive men. It increases the intensity of their sexual desires and hence their submissiveness. Immediately after they have orgasmed, the rational brain kicks in and they can get regretful and guilty about things they have said or done. So denial increases malleability. I believe that John will try to stick to his forfeit but, as I am keeping his sexual brain stimulated, he will fail at least a couple of times. It will interesting to see whether he tells me when he fails.

It was in that context that I spoke to him this morning. Firstly I wanted to see whether the progress we made on Friday evening had stuck. At first, he avoided calling me "Sir" - consciously I suspected. But once he was reminded, he stuck in the groove and repeated his polite request, from Friday, without hesitation..

My other objective this morning was to find out more about his relationship with Kim, in advance of lunch tomorrow. He told me he couldn't remember the last time they had sex; they have just gotten out of the habit and don't make time for it. This could be good or bad news. It is can be good if she is feeling sexually frustrated - I wonder whether she masturbates? But it will bad if she is become completely sexually dormant. If this is the case, it can take time and patience to get the motor running again. Unfortunately, I go away for a week in two week's time. I would hate to start to turn Kim's motor during  the next two week, only to see it cease up with guilt while I am away.

I will try to get her motor purring before I go. I want to have her at least three times, preferably more before I go away. My experience is that three times is the magic number. After the first time there is always guilt. Coming back for a second helping shows that the experience was pleasurable enough to want to repeat it, with guilt held in check. The third time is commitment. The pleasure of the experience outweighs the guilt and the subject wants to experience that pleasure on a regular basis. And then, once it becomes a new normality, I can start to push the boundaries to get what gives me pleasure:  irreversible changes both their lives.

A nice suprise

Whilst wooing his wife, I have been continuing to groom John. I don't want him to react negatively towards Kim when he finds out that I have been fucking her without his knowledge. His reaction doesn't matter to me but it might to Kim. I don't want her retreating because of how John feels and what he says as a consequence. At some point in the future, I will enjoy engineering a situation where she disregards his feelings but that is a little way off.

When we first began to chat, on-line, John liked to hear about my experiences of cuckolding husbands. What was going on, of course, was that he was projecting himself into the stories that I told him. I moved him on to talk about his own fantasies. As he talked, I would interject with my own thoughts and experiences, so it didn't seem too one-sided. Slowly we moved into darker corners, often helped by his propensity to drink a few beers on a Friday evening.

Over the last week, I have increasingly steered him into bringing Kim into the picture. So when he talks about his fantasies, Kim is involved and named. Not a generalised wife, not "her," not "my wife" but "Kim." I want him saying her name and seeing her face. I have also been asking him to describe how he would feel in those imagined, future realities. Similarly, when I tell him things I might do, I use her name and ask him how he would feel about it. When it doesn't seem too contrived, I get him to tell me what he hears and even what he smells and tastes. There is a neurologically thin line between richly imagined scenarios and real memory .

Running out of scenarios doesn't seem to be an issue. We often cover the same general ground. Either John forgets what we have talked about it before, because of  his state of arousal, or he simply enjoys "living" the fantasy afresh each time. This actually helps me because repetition and gradual embellishment of the details, while aroused, serves my purpose very well, neurologically speaking.

So last night, it being Friday, I had a dual purpose. To find out whether Kim had mentioned the incident at the cafe and to move John on just a little. There was was no mention of what happened at the cafe and I wasn't about to ask, so I moved on to indulging his fantasies, with Kim at the centre of it.

 After chatting for a good while, I said, "you really do want me to fuck Kim, don't you John?"

"Yes," he said.

"Yes, what?" I asked. I wanted to hear him use her name. What came next was a delightfully unexpected bonus.

"Yes I do Sir," he said after a long pause. Up until now he had been deferential, letting me lead our conversations but this was something more. And it was all the more rewarding because I hadn't explicitly requested it.

"Yes you do what, Sir?" I asked.

"I want you to fuck my wife, Sir."

"WHO?" I typed.

"I want you to fuck Kim, Sir."

"And you want this is in reality, not just fantasy, don't you John?" I persisted.

"Yes, I do Sir."

"Then ask me nicely," I said.

"Please fuck Kim, Sir."

"It will be my pleasure John, thank you for asking so nicely."

Now it would be wrong to conclude that he really meant what he said. He had drunk a few beers and probably had his cock in his hand. Not a good state for rational thought. Nonetheless, we had moved forward, particularly with his increased deference to me. From now on, I will insist on being called Sir, regardless of whether he is sober or drunk.

.

The Full English Breakfast plus baked beans

Kim greeted with a broad smile, this morning, and was clearly pleased to see me. Her hair was washed and not tied back, as it had been in previous days. She was wearing a little make-up. I would like to claim responsibility for the improvement but, in truth, have no idea what prompted it. Maybe it was just a celebration of  it being Friday. We engaged in a little small talk and I ordered a Full English Breakfast, plus baked beans. 

I took off the jacket of my light grey suit, folded the jacket in half and laid it over the back of the chair to my right.  I placed my bag just to the right of the chair, where I could reach it with my foot. When Kim came with the over-laden plate, it was a simple task to nudge the bag, unseen, into her path. Knowing she was going to trip over the bag, I was already on my way out of my seat, to protect my clothes, the jacket excepted. The air was filled with sausages, bacon, tomatoes, black pudding, eggs and a hailstorm of baked beans. Kim clattered to the ground and plate smashed into uncountable pieces. 

I helped her to her feet, making physical contact for the first time. She looked in horror, her hand raised to her mouth, as she saw my jacket covered in a Full English Breakfast plus basked beans. I was still holding her hands as she began to apologise profusely. I squeezed her hands, "don't worry, don't worry. It's nothing, it will clean up fine." The apologising continued at pace and I took the opportunity to give her a reassuring hug. I wondered when the last time was that someone hugged her with the lustful desire that I harboured. Was she too fraught to realise that she was in the arms of a man who wasn't her husband? I let the hug linger, past a natural point of reassurance. I let her feel the contact of my body.

After I let her go, she said, "I'll get it dry-cleaned straight away. There's a really good cleaner in the High Street who owes me a favour. It will be ready in a couple of hours." We then did the verbal dance of me saying "no, please don't bother, it's completely unnecessary" and and her insisting "no, it was my fault and I want to fix it." This was one little joust I was keen for her to win.

"OK," I conceded, "but I am about to leave for a long-weekend, so will not be able to pick it up today." She looked mildly panicked and I added, "but I can come back on Monday."

"But I'm not here on Monday."

"Oh dear, are you going away?" I asked

"No, no, I am just not working here."

"How about we meet for lunch?" I almost hear her mind whirring. "We can talk about Doris Lessing?" I added in a jokey manner.

She paused a long time for thought and I thought I was going to lose it, before finally she said,  "yes that will be nice, I'll look forward to it."

"Splendid, give me your mobile number, just in case something goes wrong. Oh, and where should we meet?"

"Oh I am not sure," she said.

"Do you have an email address?" 

"Yes I do."

 "Well give me your email address and mobile. We can arrange it over the weekend. I'm away but will still have email access." I look forward to it I said, taking her hands softly for a moment.

"Yes me too, " she said, withdrawing her hands at no great speed.

And so I left the cafe with her mobile number, her email address and a date for lunch. My only problem was that I was still hungry.

Ham and Cheese Omelette

I want Kim to think of me as someone she can talk to. Someone who is interested in her. Interested in what she thinks and feels. Especially what she feels. Usually, this would take a much longer period than I have available. But there is no point in making excuses. It is simply a greater challenge. If, however, I have not made sufficient progress by the end of tomorrow, I will draw back and slow down rather than jeopardise the whole project. I do bore easily but John and Kim aren't the only toys in my box.

So, this morning, I asked Kim to recommend what she thought was the best breakfast on the menu. She suggested a ham and cheese omelette. Done. I ate slowly, aiming to finish when things were quiet. When Kim came to collect my plate, I asked her some deliberately dumb questions about the Lessing book. I sought her opinion and showed my delight at the way her answers enlightened me. My preparatory work for this was to read more of the book and this, frankly, made my hair hurt.

Time for the next step. Getting personal. Would she withdraw through offence or embarrassment? No risk, no gain.

"I hope you will not find me terribly rude but you seem a bit too, err, good to be working in a cafe." I had agonised a lot about the choice of words. "Good" was sufficiently ambiguous.

For moment, I thought she was going to shut down. But after a thoughtful pause she began to talk. As she did so, I stood up and eased a chair out from under the table. She took the invitation and sat down; as did I. She explained that her "real job" is as a District Nurse. She first worked at the cafe to help out when her friend, the owner, was sick. Her usual day was spent visiting infirmed, mostly old, people. She found that she enjoyed the hustle and bustle and since then has helped out a couple of times per week, or sometimes longer if her friend asked her. Also, boarding school is not cheap and it helps.

"Well, I'm glad you do work here," I said, "otherwise I would never have gotten to the bottom of Doris Lessing,"...theatrical pause..."or seen your lovely smile."

This further risk was rewarded with a smile that she struggled to hide and a lot of accompanying blushing. Job done. Big day tomorrow.

Eggs on toast

It's been a long day. It takes about and hour to get to the cafe where Kim works, so the round trip takes a decent chunk of time out of my day. I'm not complaining. Nothing worth having comes without effort. I just had a lot of other stuff on today.

Most men think that women will like them if they, the men, demonstrate how great they are. So the men talk and talk at the target of their lust, or, occasionally, their affection. But let's be honest, it is always lust at the beginning. Anyway, this approach is wrong, wrong, wrong. Women like men who they believe are interested in them.. This means men who listen and, crucially,  demonstrate that they have listened. Gazing at her vacantly in bored silence is not listening. In fact, it's not even being present. You need to be able to tell her what she told you. And sometimes you do exactly that, to show you have understood.

My key objective this morning was, therefore, to get Kim to talk a bit. Given that she is only working there until Friday, I had to take a bit of risk to get the flow going. Before I go on, you have to understand that John has given away lots of information that seemed innocent to him but which will be invaluable to me. So this morning, instead of turning up with a newspaper to read, I had a well-thumbed copy of "The Golden Notebook" by Doris Lessing. I don't recommend that you read it. It is just awful. But John told me that Lessing is Kim's favourite author. The risk I ran was that the book made it smell of a set-up. By the way, in case you are wondering, you can buy second-hand books from Amazon. Deception for the lazy.

Kim came to take my order. Nice smile. I was reading the book when she arrived but was careful not to show what is was. But when she came back with my eggs on toast, I put down the book face up.

"Oh, Doris Lessing!" said Kim, in surprise.

"Do you disaprove," I asked unemotionally.

"No, no, she's my favourite."

"You're kidding," I said feigning excitement, "I was given this by a friend yesterday and haven't been able to put  it down. I didn't even bother to buy a newspaper."

And then she sat down momentarily on the edge of the chair opposite me. She sat down, whilst she should have been working, and quietly told me why it is such a great book and why Doris Lessing is sooooooo brilliant. And even though I had read the first three chapters of the wretched thing and had spent half a day researching Doris Lessing, all I had to do was listen and agree with what she said. You might think that this was so transparent as to be idiotically doomed. But men, if you think that, you have a great deal to learn about women.

And that was pretty much that. Another generous tip. Back tomorrow for more of the same.

Before I forget, I should mention that I had a quick chat to John on-line this evening. If Kim has mentioned the amazing  Doris Lessing coincidence or, indeed, the tall, handsome new stranger then he is not letting on.

Full English

Although I arrived early, the cafe was busy. The customers were mostly men, mostly middle-aged and mostly, it seemed, manual workers. There was a smattering of blokes in their early twenties, mixed in with the older guys. There were a couple of old biddies sitting alone. I was intrigued to see how Kim interacted with the men.

She was busy when I walked in and didn't see me sit down at a table. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back tight but was not long enough for a pony tail. If she was wearing make-up, it didn't show. And she was wearing a shapeless blue overall, the like of which I hadn't seen since school dinners. Needless to say, she wore flat brown shoes. I had been wondering whether she might be working at the cafe to meet men but it was pretty obvious that she had no interest in them or vice versa.

I pretended to be reading the paper and only looked up when I sensed her presence hovering over me.

"Made it in time today then?" she said with soft, but genuine looking, smile.

I returned the smile and simply said, "Full English, please." Even if she hadn't seen me the day before, I would have been conspicuous. I was the only person wearing a suit and rather good one at that. Not flash but well-cut. And good sensible, lace-up, City shoes with no funny square or pointy toes.

From then on, I was simply warm, friendly and courteous. Lot's of "pleases" and "thank-you's" - a nice contrast compared to her usual ill-bred customers. When I paid, I left a generous tip. I was, dear reader, the complete gentleman.

And that was that. Mission accomplished. My apologies if I have disappointed the prurient amongst you. I hope you were not expecting me to seduce her over the Full English and be rutting her hard, on all fours, before the morning was over? A nice image, i grant you it will take a little time and patience. But stick around and you will not be disappointed. That said, you might be shocked and stay away when you realise what I have in mind for her. And him, of course.

All's well that ends well

It took me well over an hour to drive to the first of the candidate cafes. It was pretty busy. I couldn't see any sign of Kim, so I decided to sit down and order a coffee. I felt I needed it anyway. After ten minutes there was still no sign of her, so I slugged down my coffee and waved to waitress. As I paid, I chanced my arm.

"No Kim today," I asked. She screwed up her face in incomprehension. "Kim?" I repeated.

"Don't know her," she replied.

Back to to the car and on to the next place. Same story. On to the third place. Same story again. I've now had three cups of coffee and am getting a little frustrated. I started to wonder whether John has been stringing me along.

Getting parked for the fourth place was a nightmare. By the time I got to the cafe, I am proper narked and ratty. But I retain some presence of mind and know that I am not going to be able to charm the knickers off Kim in this state. I go back to the car, sit and take long, deep breaths.

Composed but not at my best, I return to the cafe. I'm literally sick of Coffee. I look around anxiously. Still no Kim. When the waiter comes to ask me for my order, I blurt out, "does Kim work here?" I realise, as I said it, that if the answer is yes, then plan A is fucked because I have revealed I know who she is.

"'Fraid not," says the waiter.I am relieved. "What can I get you?"

"Sorry, I was looking for and old friend, " I say. "I don't wish to be rude but is there another cafe around here?"

He laughed. "No problem. The only other one I know is in the High Street."

What the fuck? "Err, isn't this the High Street?" I ask him?

"Only since the stupid council renamed it as part of their stupid regeneration plan. The original High Street is around the corner, near the bus garage. They renamed it Garage Street. Very creative. Locals still call it the High Street."

"Right," I said, slowly drawing the word out. "Well thanks, I appreciate it." My calm returning, I looked at the menu board and dropped the cost of a coffee onto the table as a thank guy. The guy looked at me as if I was an idiot and shrugged.

Isn't it funny? A minute before I was annoyed because I didn't find what I expected. But now that the expectation was restored, I was really happy. It's like being neutral about something you own until you lose it. Then you get it back and are all happy. Anyway, I digress.

I walked towards the glass door of the fifth cafe with a spring in my step. Coming towards me from inside was Kim. She reached up to a sign, hanging on the inside of the door by a chain. It said 'Open' and I knew what the other side. I clasped my hands together in front of me and slowly mouth the word "please." And then, "Coffee". As if I fucking needed it! She look at me with a slight smile. I buckled my knees as if I was going to kneel and beg. "Please," I mouthed again.

This time she laughed and opened the door. "I'm really sorry," she said, "breakfast rush is over and we are closing for thirty minutes."

I made a pained expression.

"There's another cafe round in the High Street," she said.

I was about to object but caught myself and said, "but waitresses are not as good looking around there," smarming it up big time. I nearly said 'not as sexy' but didn't want to push my luck at this early stage. Anyway she blushed but I could tell you was pleased.

"Sorry," she said, turning the sign.

"No worries," I said with a cheesy smile.

Things had not quite gone as I planned but the overall outcome could not have been better. I had made her smile. She was will remember me when I come back tomorrow. And then the day after. And the day after. And the day after that. I will become her favourite, charming customer.

Keeping Schtum

I decided not to tell John that I anticipate meeting Kim tomorrow morning. For one thing, he might spoil it by asking her silly questions like, "how did your day go," a little too earnestly. Or perhaps, "anyone interesting come into the cafe this morning?" Also, he has not yet crossed the acceptance threshold. He is still in fantasy-land. He gets aroused by talking to someone who could make that fantasy real but he might baulk at the reality and intervene in some cack-handed way. That, at least was my original logic.

Having decided on that course of action, however, it lead me to the idea of making him a cuckold without him knowing. I will tell him in good time, of course. I am interested in them as a couple. But how exquisite it will be for me to have her, before I tell him that his fantasy is already a reality, with no turning back.

I should mention that I let John win the bet on the second rugby match and gave him some stuff to wank over. Losers need little victories to avoid them getting demoralised. My plan nearly went awry though, when the underdogs romped into the lead. Happily, the best team one and I lost, albeit deliberately. I only ever lose deliberately.

Every picture tells a story

The picture of Kim is interesting. It is a full length and looks as if it has been clipped from a group picture. She is smiling but looks uncomfortable. The smile is somewhat forced. She is wearing a cream dress, with what look like large navy spots. The dress doesn't suit her. The hemline is way too low: well below the knee. She is a good deal overweight but not grossly so. This is the image of a woman who does not like having her picture taken. She lacks self-confidence in her appearance. She is ideal.

Thank god for rugby

Thanks to the wonderful sport of rugby, I not only have a picture of Kim, I also have a very good idea of where she will be working, every morning, for all of next week. Can you feel me grinning?

John loves rugby and I can bluff it pretty well. It is a big rugby weekend in Europe, with two cup finals. John was only too pleased to talk to someone who agreed with everything he said. One objective was to find out roughly where Kim would be working next week. From previous conversations, I already knew that they lived in a small town in a certain county in the South East of England. Also, John had told me that "Kim sometimes "helps out in the cafe in the High Street." Now, I'm not sure whether he meant that its literally named "The High Street", which is not uncommon in England, or whether he used it as a general description. But, I reasoned, with the help of Google Maps and its streetview capability, I could have a good go at finding the location of the cafe if I knew their local station.

This was slightly tricky because he wanted to talk about the matches this weekend. I, however, had a reason for wanting delay that part of the conversation until later. So given that one of the matches is in the Welsh national stadium, I got the conversation round to the merits and  demerits of various national rugby stadia. Now one of the demerits of England's national stadium, Twickenham, is its awful location on the edge of town. I know John goes to there every year for the internationals, so I instituted a moan-in about the difficulty of getting there.

Bingo! John said something along the lines of "it's not too bad for me going as I am only twenty minutes from Waterloo on a fast train from my local station. But coming back is a bugger because it's usually outside peak times, so trains are more infrequent and I have to go to the main station. It's only a ten minute drive but I have to get a cab or ask Kim to collect me." That narrowed it down to one or two stations. Then I took a virtual walk with Mr. Google. I have four candidates where I think Kim may work.

So on to my second objective. I turned to the subject to sex and indulged John's fantasies with some adventures from my past and suggestions about some from his future. Knowing he was getting pretty horny, I suckered him into a bet on the result of yesterday's rugby match. If he picked the winning team, I would send him pictures and some video clips of some of my adventures. If he lost, he would send me a picture of Kim.

He lost and is, I have to report, an honourable man.

My subjects

My subjects are John and Kim. I have already been talking to John a fair bit on-line using Instant Messaging software. I like this method of communication because, being anonymous, it is non-threatening to the subject. It also gives the subject thinking time before it responds. It is not flustered into hasty responses. My initial objective in talking to John was to get him to trust me. To regard me as his friend. I wanted to find out as much as possible about him and Kim before I make direct contact with her.

I spoke to a number of candidates before selecting John and Kim. I had no set criteria but a few long chats are usually enough to get a sense of the challenge and what might be possible. John, I was unsurprised to find, has had sexually submissive fantasies from a young age. And boy can he talk. I asked a few open questions and it all came gushing out. His relationship with Kim, his fantasies, his fears and much much more that will be useful to me. I now pop up regularly on his desktop. I ask him how he is and what's on his mind. I ensure that I talk to him about his interests, such as sport and politics. And of course, I ask about Kim. It really is quite shocking how indiscreet people can be when talking to a total stranger.

So here is an overview. The subjects met at University. John was studying structural engineering and Kim was training to be a nurse. John is 45 and works in the oil industry. Consequently, he spends periods of time away from home, usually offshore. Kim is 42 and works as a District Nurse. But sometimes she helps out with breakfast at a local cafe, owned by an old school friend. They have two children. An eighteen year old boy who is in his first year at university and a seventeen year girl who is at what sounds like an expensive boarding school.

John is obviously weak-willed and will be easy to manipulate. It sounds as if Kim is a stronger person and will be more difficult to break. That will be fun. Kim, John tells me, is overweight and very concious of it. Her self-image is poor. They rarely have sex. Kim is an ideal candidate for seduction by someone who will make her feel desired.

Toys Are Us

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Manipulating the weak

Most people like to think that they are strong-willed. They will often describe themselves as "someone who knows their own  mind" or "not one to be pushed around." It's an ironic description. People rarely know their own minds. Most are followers not leaders. They are weak-willed and full of exploitable frailties. They are there for the taking by those of us who know our own minds and get to know their's.

There are a number of ways of getting people to do what one wants. Violence and blackmail can be effective and both have their place in a puppet-master's tool-kit. But it is much more effective and sustainable to get inside the mind of the subjects.  One starts by tapping into explicit needs and desires. Then one moves on to the dark corners of the mind. Those needs and desires that the subject knows but dare not admit. The final step is to create new needs and desires, through careful and patient conditioning. What could be more rewarding than changing a person's perception of what is "normal."