Dean had decided that today was the day.  He didn’t dare wait any longer.

 

He had decided that even before pretty dark-haired Margaret was allowed into his cell for her monthly visit, and promptly raised her skirt to show him her bare cunt, and started to masturbate in front of him.

 

The Ferncreek Institute didn’t call them “cells”, of course.  This was his “patient room”, and the fact that he was locked inside it between the hours of 9 pm and 8 am simply wasn’t discussed by the orderlies.  He wasn’t “imprisoned” - he was “receiving treatment”, for an unspecified mental illness that had never been diagnosed.

 

But Dean had never liked euphemisms.  The truth was that he was locked in an insane asylum - one he had been trapped in by his family.  Specifically, by his *cunt* of a sister, Natasha, and his two cousins, Daphne (that big-titted cow) and Scott (the dickless gay wonder).

 

“You’re looking well today, Dean,” said Margaret, still vigorously rubbing her clit with one hand and spreading her pussy with the other so that he could see.

 

“Why thank you, you dumb slut,” said Dean.

 

Margaret smiled as if she didn’t realise she had been insulted.  That was probably because she *didn’t* realise, not with the conscious part of her mind - any more than she realised that she was masturbating like a whore in front of a man she feared and hated.  The beautiful 21-year-old law student was completely oblivious to what she was doing.

 

“Why don’t you give me your phone, you empty-headed little bimbo?” asked Dean.

 

“Of course,” said Margaret, pleasantly.  She unlocked her mobile phone and handed it to Dean.

 

Dean immediately navigated to her camera gallery and, sure enough, there were new nude photos of Margaret’s latest girlfriend, showing her smiling, cupping her bare tits, spreading her pussy, and then, in a video, enthusiastically licking Margaret’s shaved pussy.  

 

Dean deliberately pulled down his pants and took out his hard cock.  Margaret’s eyes immediately locked onto it.  Dean began to masturbate, alternating his gaze between the images on Margaret’s phone, and his real-life view of Margaret’s wet cunt.

 

And when he sensed the ember within her - arousal - and the thought in her head - Dean’s cock - he Leashed her.

 

Not a Silver Leash.  No, not anymore.  A different kind of leash altogether - ink-black and slippery.  An invisible leash.  A Midnight Leash.

 

And just like that, Margaret had a sexual desire to see Dean’s cock.  It was a desire she would act upon without realising it, and she would retain no memory of anything she did in the course of servicing that desire.  

 

And best of all, her vile, traitorous family would have no idea it was there.

 

===

 

It had been twelve years since Dean’s family had imprisoned him.   Before that day, his life had been perfect.  He was enjoying torturing his buxom, biddable, beautiful wife Miriam, giving her new Leashes on a weekly basis, tying her sexuality into gorgeously tortured knots until she couldn’t think of anything but doing perverted, degrading acts to please him and to satisfy the needs of her cunt.  

 

He had a small harem of Leashed cunts, ranging from teenagers to MILFs, who he could rape at will, or have Miriam rape them, or have them rape Miriam or each other.  They gave him their money, so he didn’t have to work, and performed his chores for him.  They earned even more cash for him at the local brothel, where he told them to specifically seek out the cruellest and least respectful clients, because it was funny to him when they orgasmed from pain and degradation.

 

And on top of all of that, he had a beautiful young son, Jake, who he planned to raise in his own image.

 

But his do-gooder family didn’t think that was appropriate. They had fucked-up ideas about “morality” and “ethics” - as if having the Silver Leash didn’t make them gods in a world of barely-sentient animals.  And so they came to take away everything he had, and deprive him of all the pleasure he had earned.

 

He fought them, of course.  Got off a pretty good Leash on Daphne after he kicked her in the cunt.  She’d get aroused from having her cunt kicked for the rest of her life, he knew.  And he suspected that Natasha still got off from having her hair pulled and her face spat on, in view of the Leash he’d given *her*.

 

It had been Scott who tipped the balance.  A gay man.  It still made Dean disgusted.  The Leash only worked on people you were attracted to.  Dean, straight as an arrow for life, simply couldn’t touch Scott with the Leash.  Oh, but Scott could Leash *him*.

 

They had bound Dean up with so many Leashes that it nearly killed them.  Leashes for being powerless.  Leashes for submitting.  Leashes for being restrained.  Leashes for humiliation. Leashes for denying his needs.  Leashes for obeying.  When it was done, he could hardly think straight.  They had taken him to a psychologist, and he had spent the whole appointment babbling and stroking his dick, unable to think of anything about how fucked he was, and how horny that made him.  

 

And at the end of it, they had obtained an order for involuntary commitment to a mental institution.

 

The order by itself wasn’t enough, of course, but Scott and Daphne’s side of the family had money, and that had been enough to arrange him a well-monitored “patient room” in a secure facility, with all-male orderlies that were immune to his Leash, just in case.

 

And so Dean had sat, and rotted, separated from his wife and son, for twelve long years.

 

He had weekly visits from the family.  It had surprised him, initially, but he soon understood.  They were *scared* of him.  They needed to check, on a regular basis, to reassure themselves that he was still broken.  

 

At first it was Natasha coming to see him.  On the first visit she brought her pretty young red-headed daughter Madison, but after that first time it was just Natashas, by herself.  Madison never came back.

 

Natasha only lasted a year.  Whenever she came, he would take out his cock and start masturbating and laughing, and he could see on her face that it made her sick and afraid.  

 

As soon as she could get away with it, she turned over the duties to her cousin Daphne, and it had been sexy blonde Daphne who had come after that, every fortnight, year in and year out.

 

Until finally Daphne’s daughter Margaret turned 18.  And then they started sending her.

 

This was three years ago, and as far as his sister and cousins knew, everything was still exactly as it was when they had committed him.

 

But they had made a mistake.  Because Dean knew something that his family didn’t.

 

He knew that Margaret was a lesbian.

 

She had absolutely no sexual interest in men - and that meant that she couldn’t see his Leashes, she couldn’t feel it if he exercised his power, and she couldn’t affect him with her own power.

 

He had no idea why she wasn’t out of the closet with her mother - her uncle was gay, for heaven’s sake; surely Daphne wouldn’t care?  But despite that, her sexuality was still a secret - and therefore she couldn’t tell her mother how unsuitable she was for checking on Dean’s condition.  She just kept turning up every fortnight and pretending that she could see that he was still helpless and Leashed.

 

Only Dean wasn’t helpless.  He knew what Margaret was the second he saw her.  He’d always had an instinct for women - and their weaknesses.  And he knew that if nobody was going to see what state his brain was in, he could begin the process of freeing himself.

 

Slowly, slowly, he began to pick at his Leashes.  It was supposed to be impossible to reverse a Leash without causing permanent damage, but Dean had never had much time for other people’s limits.  Instead of removing the Leashes, he tried something different - he added to them.  

 

So he had a kink for being powerless?  Well, what if he gave himself a kink for being powerful?  But a *bigger* one?  He just had to wait for moments when he felt like things were going well for him - and Leash them.  He had a kink for obeying?  Well, how about a bigger kink for *disobeying*?

 

It was slow.  His power was atrophied from long years of disuse, and at first he gave himself nosebleeds and headaches, just like he had when he was a dumb kid using his power for the first time.  But practice gave him improvement, and, slowly, piece by piece, he was able to rebuild his personality.

 

By the time he was done his mind was a mess of so many overlapping and contradictory kinks that he doubted he could ever be successfully Leashed again.  A new fetish would just vanish into the mess.

 

If his family wanted to stop him again, they would have to kill him.  And he had no intention of letting that happen.

 

But beyond all of that, he discovered something new.  He didn’t think anyone in his family had ever done what he had done - using his power, in small ways, multiple times a day, for three years; using it on himself; creating so *many* kinks in a single person.

 

Because in that forest of Leashes, something new grew.  The invisible, black thread.  The Midnight Leash.

 

He had a sense of what it might do even before he used it, but he wasn’t sure, so he tested it on Margaret.

 

He looked her in the eye one day, and said, “You’re such a stupid cunt” - and then, in the moment of shock that followed those words, he Leashed her - with the Midnight Leash.

 

She blinked, and blushed… and smiled.  

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

“That’s all right,” he said.  “It’s nice to hear you’re a stupid fucking whore, isn’t it?”

 

She blinked again, and giggled.  There was a flush in her cheeks, and he could sense from the ember within her, visible through the Leash, that she was aroused.

 

“Margaret,” he asked, “what did I just say to you?”

 

“You said…”  She trailed off, and her eyes crossed for a moment.  “You said something nice.”

 

“That’s right,” he said, “you dyke cuntlicker.”

 

She laughed again.  “I like it when you call me that,” she said.  “I deserve it.”

 

It was so much better than the Silver Leash.  The silver just created a kink in a person.  They could pursue it, or ignore it, as they chose.  But the Midnight Leash went further.  It disconnected the kink from their conscious mind entirely - or specifically, from the ego and superego.  The id was free to pursue the pleasure from the kink without reference to morals or shame, and no information was passed to the part of the brain that engaged in rational thought, ethics, or identity.

 

Margaret now loved being called a cunt and a bitch by him, and she would actively encourage him to do so - but have no idea she was doing it.

 

That was all he needed to begin taking control of Margaret’s mind.  On her next visit, he treated her politely and respectfully - and after a while she began to pout.

 

“Why won’t you call me a whore?” she asked.  “You know I deserve it.”

 

“I’ll call you a whore if you show me your pussy,” he replied.

 

She did, eagerly, with no idea she was doing it - and just like that he created another Midnight Leash, and now she had a kink for showing him her cunt.

 

He gave her more kinks.  She liked to masturbate in front of him.  She would take nude pictures of her girlfriends and show them to him.  She would tell him all her secrets, no matter how humiliating.  She would masturbate him into a condom, and then take the condom home and mix the sperm into her girlfriend’s meals.  She would watch heterosexual rape porn on her computer when her girlfriend wasn’t around and masturbate to it.

 

She was still a lesbian.  Nothing he did could change that.  She was just a *very confused* lesbian, and he loved that about her.  The more he fucked her up, the hotter it was for him.  Knowing that she was the daughter of his cunt cousin Daphne just made it better.

 

He wasn’t just fucking around, of course.  He knew he could have used Margaret to escape months ago.  But once he left his involuntary commitment, his family *would* find out.   And they would likely come for him - if they could find him.  He needed to make sure he was in top fighting shape.  He needed the Leash - and particularly this exciting new Midnight Leash - as well-exercised as he could get it.

 

But he also knew that the more he fucked with Margaret, the more chance there was of Daphne - or someone else - discovering what he was doing.  He couldn’t take the risk any longer.

 

He took his hand off his cock.

 

“Okay, Margaret,” he said, “you like obeying me, don’t you?”

 

She nodded her head, still masturbating.

 

“And you particularly like it when I tell you to do things you know are very wrong, don’t you?”

 

She nodded, with a slightly conflicted expression on her face.  She did not, in fact, love that - she just got off on it.  She knew her ego and superego would not approve – but the Midnight Leash shut them out of the conversation.  Even so, sometimes her emotions remained.  She had cried when he told her to feed his cum to her girlfriend, because even with the Midnight Leash she knew what a betrayal it was of someone she genuinely loved - but she had masturbated to orgasm over the idea, and then gone and done it.

 

“Good cunt,” said Dean.  “All right.  Today you’re going to sign me out of here, and then we’re going to go to your car and drive far away from here.  Okay?”

 

She nodded.  It was okay.

 

“But first, there’s something I have to do,” he said.  

 

And with that, he rose, and stood over her, his dick against her face.  He slapped her face twice, hard, and when her mouth popped open, he shoved his cock into it and skullfucked her against the wall.

 

She made gagging, choking sounds.  His cock was going right down her throat, triggering her gag reflex.  She tried to push him away, and he slapped her again.  Cunts didn’t need to breathe.

 

He had never given her a kink for being fucked - or being raped.  He didn’t want her to have that kink.  He wanted her to hate it.  It was more fun that way.  Being raped by a man was a special experience that every lesbian should have, he felt - the more often the better.

 

After violating her mouth for a bit, he pulled out, then grabbed her hair, and pulled her to her feet.

 

“Take off your clothes, or I’ll slap you again,” he said.

 

She *did* have a fetish for obeying, plus an entirely non-fetish preference for not being slapped, so she quickly undressed until she was nude in front of him.

 

He nodded approvingly - then pushed her down towards his bed, tits up.  He stood by the side of the bed and grabbed her legs, pulling them to either side of him until her cunt was on the edge of the bed and he could jam his cock into it.  It was wet for him, due to the masturbation, even though she was crying by this stage.

 

“Good bitch,” he growled.  He reached out and grabbed her large tits and used them as handholds, pulling her whole body onto his dick, dragging her whole weight using her breasts as she mewled and wept.

 

It had been twelve years since he had fucked a cunt - and the feeling was divine.  How had he possibly gone without this?

 

Well, he wouldn’t anymore, that was for sure.  Margaret was his now, and he would Leash her until there was nothing left of her but shame, obedience, and a wet cunt.  He might pick up that pretty girlfriend of hers as well - the bitch had already had his sperm in her mouth without realising it, so she may as well take it in her cunt and ass as well.

 

And then what?

 

Revenge?  He knew he didn’t need it.  He could go to another country, start a new harem, far from any meddling white knights with Leashes, and live like a god.  

 

And in another world he might have.  Sure, Daphne deserved to have her tits beaten, and Natasha deserved to have her cunt spanked, but sometimes discretion was the better part of valour.

 

Except for one thing.  

 

His son, Jake.  A fine young man, who deserved to know his father, and learn from his father how to get everything he wanted from the world’s bitches, who wouldn’t want to give it to him.

 

His cunt sister and his bleeding heart cousins had denied Dean the chance to raise his son.  And that wasn’t acceptable.

 

So, yes, he would risk another round with his family.  He decided this, as he orgasmed into Margaret’s pretty lesbian twat.  

 

“Don’t you tell anyone about this,” he growled in Margaret’s ear.  “Good girls help rapes happen.”

 

And then he Leashed her again.  She wouldn’t have a kink that let her enjoy rape - but she’d have kink for *getting herself raped* and *keeping it a secret*.  Which was far more fun.

 

Yes.  It was settled.  Dean was going to find his son.

 

He was going to find Jake.

 

He wondered if Jake would appreciate being given Margaret and her girlfriend as a present.  His first slaves, possibly.

 

Sure he would.  

 

After all, every boy needed toys.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)