The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

At Last

All the usual disclaimers apply. Don’t read this if you are under legal age where you are, if depictions of sexual situations will offend you, yadda, yadda, yadda . . .

If you read anything here you like, thank Adamant Phoenix, whose Iron Writer contest in the MCGarden a few months back inspired it, or thank any of the great writers in the Garden who have given me wise advice and good examples. If you read crap, that part was me; e-mail me at .

He hadn’t slept in days. How many? He didn’t know any more.

Let’s see, he had pulled two all-nighters to study for finals, and then, to make up for the time he’d lost at work, he agreed to a double shift at the Wal-Mart. He would crash on the weekend, he told himself. He was free Thursday night, then straight through to the late shift back at the store Monday night. He kept himself going with “Jolt” cola and lots of coffee.

At last! Now it was Thursday! Now it was finally bedtime, and . . . he couldn’t go to sleep.

He couldn’t believe it. He tossed and turned. He went out for a late-night jog. He drank warm milk-and who ever really drank warm milk? He lit the candle that his friend, Jules, had given him; she had told him that the candle had a special scent to aid relaxation, and that he should light it when he was studying to help him focus. He had done that all through the week. Jules was such a good friend.

After he lit the candle again, he laid down and closed his eyes. Jules really was a good buddy. She had been ever since they met during freshman orientation. Now they were a year into grad school, and the two of them had always been able to just hang out, to share their hopes and dreams and breakfast and lunch. She was very pretty: red hair, short, in a pixie-ish cut; an angular face, but not sharp; lively green eyes that twinkled behind neat little wire-rim glasses; and a smile that lit up the room. Her body was slim, but well-shaped, with very nice-sized breasts (he supposed, he’d never really thought about it), a firm, round arse, and long, shapely legs. At five-foot-nine-inches, she stood almost as tall as his six feet, a match for him in heels, but she was always graceful, maybe even seductive in her movements (what made him think of that?).

That’s probably why she’d always managed to date-and bed-whomever she set her fancy toward; she wasn’t a slut, but she had her share of men and women, all of them bright and attractive. Of course, she hadn’t been dating this whole past school year. Maybe she had finally figured out what he’d been trying to tell her all this time; that studies needed to come first. That’s why he hadn’t dated much at all, all these years. He stuck to the coursework, got his summa cum laude, and worked enough to buy his books, daily coffee, and the occasional pizza and beer. She had fun, but somehow still managed to get the grades and to be around to hang out with him. Jules was a great buddy, and she was so hot (where did that come from?).

Yeah, he was grateful to have Jules in his life. He thought about the number of people he knew who were freshman friends but who drifted apart, especially when their interests differed. But Jules, his best buddy, this gorgeous, desirable . . . um, his cute and charming friend-without-benefits, had always stuck with him. This was the third scented candle she had given him this school year. He’d never been much for candles, but she was really into this aromatherapy stuff, and she told him the first one would help him focus, the second would improve his memory, and this one would help him relax.

But, for as relaxed as he was, he was still not asleep. His thoughts were filled with Julia. . . um, Jules, and how and how just a tiny smirk from her turned his legs to Jell-o . . . um how she was such a good friend-yeah, that’s it, good friend. A good friend whom he NEVER called Julia, because that made him think of her more as a woman than a buddy, a warm, desirable, delicious . . . where was all this coming from? He wanted Julia. Wait, wait, no, no, he NEEDED Ju . . . he needed JULES to help him snap this insomnia. He was losing it, and he had to sleep.

He picked up his phone and hit the speed dial. “Hi Jerry,” a perky mezzo-soprano voice with just a tiny hint of southern-ness answered.

“How do you know it’s me?” he said, feeling slightly paranoid..

“Because you called my cell, and it I-D’ed you, silly. Besides, who else would dare call me at . . . my god, is it really 2:15 am? I thought the finals were over! Why aren’t you sleeping like sane people?”

“Can’t sleep, Jules. I’ve tried everything, even the damn warm milk that tasted like . . . I even lit the candle you gave me.”

“I’ve got the picture,” she sounded as if she was stifling back a yawn. “And you want me to give you a massage, and see if I can get you to doze off, I suppose.”

“And maybe one of your hot totties?”

She harrumphed a tiny bit, then sighed, then said, “Sure, come on over to my place, and lets see what we can do.”

“Thanks, Jules, I’ll owe ya’ big for this.”

“Don’t worry, I think I have a way to collect in, um, trade.”

He thought that sounded a bit odd, but it was too late to argue. He really needed to get over to see her. All he did was pull on a pair of gym shorts and a tee shirt over the boxers he’d worn to bed, slipped on his running shoes, grabbed the ring that had both his dorm key and a copy of her apartment key-of course he had a key to his best buddy’s place-and practically jogged the four blocks to Jules’ apartment. While he lived in a small, cramped, but cheap single dorm room, her new apartment seemed to him to be big enough for two, though it only had one bedroom, and she had almost filled that with a king-size, four-poster bed. He never quite understood that.

The slightly cool early-June night air helped his insomnia-addled brain focus for just a moment, and it also stiffened his nipples under his shirt. That was the first he had begun to notice his own arousal. He was hardly ever aroused-just not part of his life; there was no time for recreational or any other kind of coupling. But now, he was noticing his chest, the bubbly knottiness in his stomach, and some almost-forgotten feelings in his groin. He needed Julia! That thought just made him feel warmer, run faster, almost bound up the stairs to her apartment as he fumbled with the key.

* * *

She put down her phone, stretched languidly, and lit a dozen or so candles. Jerry was just about on schedule, maybe 30 or 40 minutes early, if anything. She put on her favorite black teddy and freshened her red lipstick. After some thinking, she slipped on her strapless stilettos, for the height advantage. Then she checked her long, red nails (just polished tonight), and applied her favorite perfume—“Possession”—behind her ears, on her wrists, and in a trail from the notch at the base of her throat down into her cleavage.

She had been training Jerry to make this perfume his favorite, too, along with training him in the real therapies of those candle aromas. Under a series of trances, she had used the first candle to reinforce the idea that come the end of the semester, he would notice that he actually had a libido, and he would act on it if he had the chance.

She used the second to increase his awareness that she was not just his buddy, Jules, but that she was Julia, a beautiful, intelligent, desirable woman with whom he wanted to do more than just chat. He was her best friend, and he was brilliant-she knew that-but he was also dumb as a box of rocks sometimes. She had realized two years ago that he was the only person she ever wanted to spend time with, and she had tried talking to him about it, but got nowhere. A platonic relationship over tomato soup and grilled cheese simply was not enough for her. Under trance, Jerry had let her know that, deep down, he also wanted more, he just kept that part of his life repressed.

Then there was the third candle, the one Jerry thought was for relaxation. What it actually did . . . oh, but there was the sound of him running . . . leaping . . . tripping? (oh, poor dear) . . . up the stairs. Her heart leapt into her throat. She had a twinge of panic, worrying that maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all. She was certainly pushing the bounds of their friendship to the absolute limits, but she was at a loss to figure out how to make it grow past where it was without this. And it had to grow or die.

Quickly, she scanned the room. Where should she be when he arrived? His key was in the lock, and she heard him calling, “Julia? Jules, er, Julia? Julia, darling? buddy, um, I mean . . . it’s Jerry, and I’m coming in.”

A last minute inspiration: why not just get him into the bedroom from the get-go? After all, it was already (she glanced at her clock) 2:30 am-He made pretty good time! He certainly WAS eager-and it would never do to fall asleep on him when she’d finally gotten him here. She scooted back into the bedroom, kicked off her shoes (she was certain that they’d be useful later) and got on the bed.

“Come on in,” she said, “I’m back here.” As he entered the bedroom, she noticed a small tent in his pants, and then saw his bleary eyes grow wide as he saw her kneeling on the center of her mattress, arching her back slightly to make the most of her chest, with nipples every bit as pronounced as his.

“Y- Y- You’re in . . . in . . .”

“. . . bed?” she finished his thought, just like always, though she admitted that it was a bit more obvious this time. “Where did you expect me to be at this hour?” It was clear that the fragrance of these cherry-scented candles, a fragrance programmed into him as “Submit,” was clearly at work. Before he could even think about forming an answer, she continued: “Just come over here, Jerry, and let’s see what I can do with you.”

He sat down on the bed in front of her , and she removed his shirt and began massaging his shoulders. She felt him jump at the electric charge of her first touch, and she sighed. Then, as her fingers worked up the sides of his neck and began to work on his temples, she leaned him into her so that her nipples gently prodded his back through the black lace, and she saw the changing expression of his face, from confusion to hunger to utter bliss, as, little by little, any resistance he might have had came crumbling down, to be replaced by adoration.

There was a smile in her voice as she whispered into his ear, “Don’t you think we’re overdressed?” She felt her own heat and wetness as he stood and faced her, and dropped both shorts and boxers, kicking them off along with his shoes; his member was at full attention. As he sat down, she pulled off her teddy and swung herself around on his lap. “Julia” was all that he could moan as she placed his hands on her hips and teased his cock with her nether lips. She saw understanding grow in his eyes as she lowered herself onto his pole, first teasing, and then completely enveloping him. She knew she was far more experienced than he, and . . . and she gasped as he started pumping and pulled her into him, his mouth latching onto one breast for a while, and then the other. Now she was moaning; while there had been other partners, some more skilled, none had ever given her such a feeling of utter elation. After all these months of waiting, even more months not knowing that was what she was waiting for, he was becoming hers, and she his. She cried as she came, just before he did, and then she waited for what she was sure would come next.

But he was still awake.

He was still awake, and her heart started to plummet. The third candle she gave Jerry had reinforced the command that he would only sleep once he had done what his heart most deeply desired and yet he had denied himself. If he fell asleep now, she would know this wasn’t some sick mind-controlled rape but, as she suspected, helping him find what he always wanted. But his member was getting soft, and he was still awake.

He was clearly still acting on the first two candle trances as he looked deeply into her eyes, said “Darling Julia,” and began kissing up her neck and nibbling her ears. Wow, was this great, but it was also wrong if he was only under post-hypnotic suggestions. But, she just couldn’t . . . she just couldn’t . . . seem . . . to . . . stop him. She moaned as he lifted her off his lap, laid her gently on the bed, and began to kiss down her body. He caressed her mound, looked hungrily at her pussy, and said, “Oh Goddess, may I?”

What was this? She was confused and delighted as she nodded her head and parted her legs and felt his kisses on her inner thighs and . . . Great Heavens! It had been so long since there was a tongue finding its way into her slit and teeth gently kneading her folds and-yes!—a finger finding her nub, and she wasn’t sure if a man had ever been involved. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she came a second time, and she heard him lapping it up. With a little teaching, she thought, he would be able to drive her mad. She heard him say “Thank you, Goddess,” as he kissed each of her toes. And then she looked deep into his hazel eyes when he turned himself around, tasted herself on his lips and tongue as he kissed her deeply, and cried softly again as he fell asleep on her breast.

* * *

It was about 11:00 am when she opened her eyes. She looked at her Jerry, and realized it wasn’t a dream, realized that his heart’s deepest desire was not only to express his love for her; it was to serve her, submit to her, and have her dominate him. She eased herself out of the bed-a move made simpler when her partner had been sleep deprived. She spent a moment in the bathroom relieving herself, and then stepped into her closet to get something special.

About noon, she watched as Jerry started to stir and open his eyes. “Jules??” he said, finding himself in bed alone. Then he looked to the foot of the bed, where she was standing in a black corset, the shoes she had discarded when he first arrived . . . and nothing else. He bounded from the bed, knelt before her, and said, “Goddess Julia, may I pleasure you.”

She smiled.

His face seemed to grow serious for a moment. “Jules, did you hypnotize me?”

She ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes misting up a bit: “Yes, darling.”

He sighed: “At last! Thank you, Goddess.” And then he began worshiping her feet, and worked his way up.