Scarlett couldn’t believe it. He’d really done it. Hundreds of men had made the outlandish claims in the past, and she’d managed to fend them all off. Scarlett was no fool, she knew exactly what she wanted. And none of those men could even hope to satisfy her. But him…

Scarlett was intelligent, sure, but she couldn’t figure out how it had happened. She sure as hell couldn’t deny it, though. The man standing before her, who, seconds ago had been just another guy, was her ideal man. Her fantasy. The only man for her.

Scarlett knew there was a rational explanation for this. He’d brainwashed her. Established some kind of immensely powerful mind controlling thrall over her. And she loved him for it. She hopelessly, helplessly, adored him.

As she knelt there, back against the wall, staring up at him like a love-sick puppy, Scarlett felt the drip, drip, drip of her pussy juices, squelching on to the floor. It wasn’t just love. It was lust, pure and simple.

Scarlett didn’t care that this was completely artificial, that he’d taken control like this. She slid down to the floor, and opened her legs. This was so, so right. Scarlett wanted nothing else, ever again.