The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Against the Wall

An erotic short fiction by command of Shadow

His latest idle tease had hit its mark. The inexorable grin tugging at Alan’s face couldn’t contrast more with her expression if he tried, but he really couldn’t help it. It was borne both of the entertainment of his own wit, and his appreciation of the superlative beauty now facing him.

Mary’s hazel eyes smoldered up at him, wide with annoyance. Her sculpted brow, level and unfurrowed, told him she had humorlessly understood his punchline. The soft skin of her round nose terminated above full lips drawn only a fraction of the way down into a frown. He looked down at her as her arms folded up under her breasts, her cerulean sweater doing little to conceal their shape. He didn’t have much of a chance to appreciate them, though, as his gaze quickly locked back on to those piercing eyes. She was oddly radiant when she was angry, her eyes burning as the rest of her cooled. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

And he had to admit, he was looking forward to what was likely to happen next. That thought pushed his goofy grin past his ability to contain it. Mary’s lips tightened slightly at the sight, like a sharp blade freshly drawn. He knew better than to say another word while she held him there with her glare.

“Turn around.” The words were simple, audible, and clear, despite how little her lips had moved.

Alan did as he was told, but slowly. His head lingered as long as it dared to drink in one last moment of that gorgeous expression before he paid its cost. Too soon, he was facing the wall between the bathroom door to his right and the bedroom his left.

Most of the walls in Mary’s flat were painted the same pastel blue. But this particular stretch of it, less than an arm-span across, seemed a shade darker than all the others. Trying to determine whether it was a trick of the light or a botched paint-job was how he decided to occupy his mind waiting for the sharp slap on his ass that was to come. He wasn’t much of a masochist, but he did feel a certain satisfaction in her need to take her frustration out on his rear. It meant he had gotten to her. He had been dating Mary for a few months now. When she decided to take control, especially in the bedroom, he had learned it was much more pleasant to let her even if it meant taking the occasional punishment.

He noticed he had lost his concentration on the paint work, and as Mary let the moment drag out his breathing quickened.

Suddenly, she pressed herself into him, pushing him roughly into the wall. Alan gasped in surprise as he barely kept his footing, turning his head to the side to protect his face. His hands came up reflexively, but his hips and groin had already made contact leaving useless fingers splayed at his sides. He was wearing only a bathrobe, as he had been coming back from a shower when they had passed in the hall, but it did a decent job of cushioning the impact. The lose knot of the cord pressed uncomfortably against his abdomen. But nothing hurt, really, which was not what he had been expecting.

The force she had used was not so much violent as it was controlling. She maintained that trend as she wrapped her hands around his wrists and pushed his arms over his head. Her hips kept constant pressure on his buttocks as his hands reflexively balled up into fists. He wasn’t smiling anymore; the surprise leaving his lips hanging open in confusion. She released his wrists and he knew well enough to keep them where they were, but found it difficult to concentrate on anything else as he tried to anticipate what she would do next. The very edge of one of her nails tapped twice gently just behind his exposed ear, and them raked firmly, but again not painfully, down the side of his neck to his collarbone. For a moment, his world condensed around the goosebumps rising all the way down his spine. He nearly didn’t hear her voice despite her pushing it directly into his ear.

“Stay,” Mary commanded with the same simple clarity as before, though an octave deeper. He couldn’t tell if the echo he heard was in his ear or in his head, but it kept him perfectly still as she took a step back and relieved the pressure on him. She walked off, though in his daze he couldn’t tell which direction.

It took what felt like an eternity to collect himself from the wild flailing of his hindbrain. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, as his arms weren’t yet complaining from being left over him. He was reluctant to move from where he was, but he couldn’t see much with his face pressed so close to the wall. He eased his hips back a bit to be able to turn his head, careful to leave his wrists exactly where Mary had left them.

He figured she was off to the bathroom to grab a hairbrush or something to swat him with, which would be somewhat of a milestone in their relationship. But with his ears oriented properly, he could hear her instead moving about to his left in the bedroom. Metal scraping against metal, punctuated by a harsh click. The groaning wail of a hinge seldom used. Then… a chain? His ass clenched as he imagined something worse than a hairbrush being used against it. But the chain tinkled softly like jewelry, and was accompanied by the rustling of Mary’s long, dark hair. Her turned his head to try and peek into the bedroom, but the door was half-closed and obscuring whatever she was doing. There was a definitive thunk and a scraping against the floor. What must have been a chest had been closed and shoved back under what was probably the bed.

The soft padding of her feet against the floor was now approaching, and he managed to turn his face back toward the wall before the door opened enough for them to make eye-contact. The wall’s blue seemed a shade seemed darker than before. Had the sun gone down outside? Had she turned off a light somewhere?

It wasn’t long before Mary stood ominously behind him. He tensed in anticipation of whatever she had drawn from the case, but he was losing faith in his prediction that he was in for a simple spanking. His imagination was once again darting around uselessly in every direction. His heart beat hard and fast as she made him wait once again.

All at once her hot breath was against his neck, her breasts gently deforming against his back. With a flick of her tongue, her teeth gently tugged on the lobe of his ear, her exhale the only sound he could hear. Releasing him just as quickly, she kissed his neck in the same place she had impatiently tapped her fingernail before.

“I like you, Alan,” she told him. Kissing him again a touch lower, she continued, “I like having you around.” Her tone was possessive, as if she were talking about a piece of furniture, his cock signaling its approval under the robe. Two more gentle kisses brought her soft lips to where his neck met his shoulder.

There, her jaws clamped down on him.

His whole body snapped taut in anticipation of the pain to come, his balled hands exploding open. Instead she just held him there a moment. He stayed perfectly still lest he grind his skin against the grip of her teeth. She eventually let him go, but he did not dare relax.

“I think I’ll keep you,” she decided for both of them, her words nearly lost to the sound of his heart thudding in his ears. For a few agonizing seconds she had no other contact with him than her breasts lazily encouraging him to keep to the wall. Then her hands glided up his exposed forearms where the bathrobe’s sleeves had fallen back. Her touch caused his skin to tingle wherever it went, the hair on the back of his arms standing upright electrically.

“Your hands are so soft.” She tugged his splayed fingers a little higher, causing his tense muscles to stretch out a bit more. “I like it when they’re on my body,” she cooed fondly. Feeling her fingers coil firmly around his hands only now did he realize his eyes were shut closed. She held his open hands down against the wall, far over his head nearly to the ceiling.

Her pelvis pressed against him again, and he was distracted by his swelling member rubbing against the fabric of his robe. He couldn’t decide if he should start grinding against the wall, or just keep as still as possible until Mary was done toying with him. More importantly, he couldn’t decide which she wanted him to do.

He felt a quick tug at his waist as the robe’s cord was unknotted. She pulled the robe open from both sides, leaving naught but his bare skin between him and the wall. His still-hardening cock fell to one side, the head tapping against the rough texture of the paint. He stifled another urge to grind his hips into it for the stimulation as confusion bloomed in the back of his mind. He could still feel her hands wrapped tightly around his. She was still holding him up by his palms, wasn’t she?

No sooner had he forced his eyes open to check than they clamped shut again. She had reached under the back of the bathrobe, now hanging loosely off his shoulders, and raked a handful of fingernails up the inside of his right thigh from knee to scrotum. The instant she touched him the buzzing against his skin teased his knees apart and lowered his pelvis, whether to get away or to give her easier access to his most ticklish areas he wasn’t sure. His elbows were nearly at full extension now, his hands unable to escape the phantom of her binding grip. As she pulled her nails inexorably up his shuddering flesh, however, his elbows and shoulders were relieved by his calves automatically pulling him up onto the balls of his feet.

“I love how sensitive you are,” she growled at him, repositioning to press the meat of her thumbs in behind his knees. He squirmed in the throes of a tickle reflex as his kneecaps were pinned in place. “Makes it so delightfully easy to keep you on your toes.” She punctuated her musing with a strange poke in the center of the soft skin behind the knee, somehow while still having two hands free to press their caps firmly and inescapably a against the wall. He couldn’t resist the spasms, both of his legs jolted under her ministrations.

His breath was coming in ragged gasps, now. His eyes snapped open and his chest pulled back as far as it could to try and rationalize what he felt with his vision. The wall was nearly black, now, as if all the lights had been turned off in the middle of the night. The rest of him didn’t look like it was in the dark, though he couldn’t see very well past his stomach and erect cock to his knees to find the hands that held them. If not for their support, he would surely be falling backward as his center of mass dangled precariously out over his suspended heels. His body spasmodically tried to catch itself at this realization, but it resulted in little real movement.

He did catch an odd purple glow from around where his knees were pressed into the paint. His eyes snapped up to his hands, and there he got a better view of the same glow. Each of his palms was centered in a glowing ring of strange characters that looked as if it had been written on the wall in black light paint. The script alternated between long, flowing, almost cursive segments, and harsh angular characters like runes. As he tried to push his palms away from the rough black surface, the glow intensified in a color that was so violet it was just on the edge of his ability to see it. He couldn’t see the fingers clamping his hands in place, but no matter how hard he pressed, they did exactly that.

“Um, Mary? What’s—” he stammered, genuine fear clawing at him for the first time. But before he could finish even the simplest of sentences, Mary had taken advantage of what little space he had managed to open between his torso and the inky black plane he was affixed to.

His member had only softened a modicum in his terror before her hand yanked it to the right to get a firm grip on it. Her electric hand coiled around his most sensitive organ. His words reduced themselves into sensuous moans, perfectly expressing his dissolving rational thoughts as he clung to consciousness. She tugged him up and down a few times, hefting his cock as if assessing its weight. Whatever progress toward a hard, desperate erection had been lost was regained in that instant, his hips shuddering in anticipation of orgasm. His pelvis pushed hungrily against her touch.

“I like the feel of this in my hand,” she stated matter-of-factly. Her voice seemed louder, resonant. “I especially like the feel of it inside of me, throbbing and pulsing in my wet, hot sex.”

He forced himself to look down, and saw that it was indeed her delicate, human hand holding the sudden center of his universe. Her nails seemed a bit longer than he remembered, and shone from within like they were painted in the same ink as the circles stretching him out before her. Her hand slid smoothly up his shaft to grip it tightly between thumb and forefinger, pressing into the head and the spot on the back of the shaft just under the head respectively. This set his hips gyrating wildly, in vain attempt to impossibly increase the sensation further. He was only dully aware of another violet ring etching itself into the wall in front of him, centered just below his navel.

By now he could only moan with abandon as she pulled his head back up to his center line, holding his powerful erection close to his stomach as her other palm pushed gently against the small of his back. Her index finger stroked insistently against the perfect spot on the back of his shaft until there wasn’t space enough left and she withdrew. The twitching, thick-veined cock touched the wall, the ring centered on the sensitive flesh she had been rubbing. To him, she had never removed her hand and was even now teasing him just enough to keep him on the ragged, impossible edge just before ejaculation. He still felt her thumb keeping his manhood firmly in place.

He twitched and shuddered and groaned in place for some time before she spoke again. For Alan, speech was now impossible, each word smashed to pieces by another perfect stroke. The rings holding his hands and knees flared now and again when his body forgot that it couldn’t just clamp his own hands down on himself to bring sweet release. He was astonished that Mary’s voice could still penetrate his furor when she spoke again.

“But the teasing, this constant testing of my patience,” she growled into his left ear, “That, I do not like.” Her words shook through him like distant thunder.

Turning his head toward her, he opened his mouth to apologize, but all that came out was a low rumbling moan as the teasing renewed once again. Her eyes were cold and calculating as they briefly met the pleasure-glazed orbs in his skull. Despite his height, she looked down her nose at him, a satisfied smile just starting to form on her lips. Two clawed fingers from her left hand took hold of his chin, turning his gaze back toward the wall and pushing his head awkwardly backward on his neck. Looking up, his eyelids refused to close again as a new ring slowly etched itself into the invisibly black canvas in front of his face. This ring, however, had a green glow to it.

“So, if I’m going to keep you,” she hissed, palming the back of his skull with her free hand while still holding his chin with the other, “there are going to be some changes in our relationship.” The new ring completed its own unintelligible inscription with a spark, the characters seeming thicker and brighter than those of the others. Mary slowly pushed his head forward, keeping his forehead aligned with the center of the ring by his chin. Alan offered absolutely no resistance, just a long, frightened whine as she savored every last second before he made contact. Silently, his head touched the center of the ring. Her firm grip stifled any attempt to remove it, even after she backed away and removed her hands.

“Now, I want you to stay there for one full minute,” she commanded, the rings shining brightly in response. “When you’re done, you’re free to do whatever you want.” The laughter in her voice was pure implication. With that, she left him alone, her footsteps trailing off in the direction of the living room.

Alan’s eyes opened wide as the green ring started to slowly turn on its center point. There was only a small sliver of his attention left from the all-consuming needs of his sex, but what little there was felt the ring reach straight through his skull as if it weren’t there. Memories started coming to him, all of them of Mary. All the times she had glared at him and commanded him to turn around. The ring spun his amusement around until it had become shame. Every time they had had sex, and he had cum before her lost their satisfaction and became sorrowful errors. The ring showed him memories of him missing an opportunity to do something to please her and colored them with regret. Any time he was looking down at her, despite their relative height, he now remembered with added vertigo.

His panicked moaning turned frantic as he watched the ring work. But every time his member was stroked right to the edge again, his attention broke and he forgot what he had seen, what was different.

Remembering times when he had served her well evolved from bemused satisfaction to glowing pride. Sex where he had focused on her needs had now been the best sex of his life. That smoldering, quietly furious expression he had loved so much now make him shrink with fear and regret. Instead, she was at her most beautiful when looking down on him with quiet approval, which he could only achieve on his knees.

Then the ring sunk its twisting claws ever deeper, finding memories of other people to adjust. It had him remember selfless devotion fondly, and everything else with a mix of ambivalence or dejection. Every one of his other romantic relationships was smothered in a grey pall in comparison to Mary’s vibrancy.

And in every memory of Her, Her eyes and nails were eerie violet, their glow mirroring a glowing circular pendant he had never seen hanging between Her breasts. He sighed contentedly at the image of Her perfect features, his aching cock now nearly forgotten as the ring’s turning slowed and stopped. It was now the same violet hue as the others.

He took a shaky step back from the wall as the six rings faded back into the blackness. For one last moment, he had a feeling that something had changed. He was now alan. She was now… Her. He knew Her name, he was sure, but alan’s head and mouth weren’t to think or speak Her name. She kept them around for other purposes.

He turned to his right and rolled back his shoulders, letting the bathrobe slip free from his arms and fall to the floor. His cock stood tall and full and humming with arousal, jutting out in front of him as if leading him onward as he slowly started walking. A single drop of pre-ejaculate slowly curled down it’s back. He was free now, and it didn’t take long to decide what he wanted next.

He would join Her in the living room, kneel at Her feet, look up into Her unparalleled beauty, and ask if there was anything he could do to please Her.