Manipulation Stories Novels & Stories

Perfect. Most people think manipulation is about force and screaming, but they’re wrong because true control is about giving someone exactly what they want to find and letting their own desperation do the rest of the work. I had commissioned the "Project Aurora" files months ago, shortly after I’d drafted Anya’s contract, because I knew her history and I knew that for all her sharp-tongued bravado as The Critic, she was still that twenty-year-old girl who would do anything to protect a father who wasn't worth the effort.

He had no idea what my strategies towards him were. One thing Adrian is excellent at is the manipulation of one's mind. He loves to play the victim card to make people feel guilty about a crime they didn't commit. He did that to me once at his house and it worked perfectly. After the one-night stand, I vowed that it wasn't going to be effective on me anymore, and I'm working towards achieving that.

“Yasmine tells me that you have been having your cock in her ass and threatening her with failure of your class.” Gerald licked his lips. “I - I — I'm so sorry! Please don't hurt me.” “We won't hurt you if you cooperate, Professor. ” “Anything.” Gerald nodded tearfully. “Anything.” “We want to give you a taste of your own medicine,” the man beside him said while showing off a huge cock to Gerald. Gerald swallowed as he looked at it. “No.” Stefan moves in front of Gerald and slapped him hard on the cheek with the meaty cock. “Open up and suck,” he commanded, pushing Gerald's head towards his cock.

“Elena…” “You told me Gwen needed patience,” my mother whispered shakily. “Every time she panicked around certain things, you said trauma recovery was messy.” “It is messy.” “You told me not to overwhelm her with questions.” Reasonable advice. That was the brilliance of manipulation. Most lies worked because they wore truth like perfume. My mother’s breathing grew uneven again. “You discouraged us from bringing Adrian near her.” The room tightened but Camilla stayed composed. “Because she became distressed whenever his name came up initially.” Not technically false. That was what made her terrifying. She built manipulation from carefully rearranged truths.

She looked at me and the annoyance in her expression faded slightly, replaced by exhaustion. "This is not going to stop on its own," I said. “It keeps building until there's a story to replace it. Right now the story is womanizer and mystery woman and neither of those descriptions does either of us any favours. We can change that story together in a way that protects both of us." "By faking a relationship." "By managing the narrative." "I’m pretty sure that's the same thing, Andre." "Maybe it is. But the alternative is letting the internet write the story for us, and the internet is not kind. You've already seen that."

I pulled my jacket tighter—not because I was cold, but because fabric is the polite thing you keep between yourself and everyone who feels entitled to touch you. Somewhere along the line I learned that stories make people soft. Tell them a sad backstory and they soften toward you. Tell them nothing and they sharpen into curiosity that can be just as dangerous. I’ve toyed with both tactics. Tonight I was sticking with nothing. Silence was warmer than conversation.

*** While we’re eating, Pauline can’t stop but to talk endlessly, Pauline is beside me while Paul is in front of me. “Aunt Janine told me I’m a big girl, so I can wear makeups but Aunt Shia told me I should focus on reading and solving math because I’m slowly growing up. Who’s saying the truth between them? Aunt Janine who told me I’m a big girl already or Aunt Shia who said I’m slowly growing up?” she asks while eating. I laugh. I wiped the gravy on the side of her lips. “None of them, don’t listen to them, okay?” I answer while I’m shaking my head. She nodded innocently.

Until then, I was trapped here, touching myself for strangers and counting every tip. I slipped a hand under my t-shirt, idly playing with my nipple as the movie played on. The ache between my legs was already coming back. I kept teasing my nipple under my shirt, rolling it between my fingers as the couple on the TV fucked passionately. My pussy was getting wet again, that familiar ache building. The money from the call still had me buzzing… $700 just for riding a dildo and moaning like a slut. I wondered if HotFantasy88 would message again soon. Part of me hoped he would.

She brought both breasts back to my penis and wet them again, and brought them back to my mouth. The next moment, she straddled me again, and checked my bondage's for tightness. I could definitely not move my hands or my legs. "Do you know what I read recently?" "No, what?" "I read a story that you posted online. It was called 'I want you to feed me'." I stared blankly,I'd forgotten that she read my sex stories online, sometimes, especially this one. "Uhhh yes well..." "Do you remember writing the story, do you remember what it was about?" As she questioned me, she was humping her open pûssy over the head and shaft of my cock.

AMARACHI'S POV. Whoever wrote that article in the school's student journal must be very stupid. He/She probably has a personal issue with Christabel. Nothing in that article is right. Christabel never begged Jeff to have sex with her. This crazy! Who would have done this? I don’t think Jeff did this but apart from Ade, Michelle and me, no one else knows that Christabel likes Jeff. Taking one more look at the article, I hissed and annoyingly left the page. The comments were very nasty.