The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A young woman trots up the stone steps of the main branch of the city library, flanked on either side by the granite lions that maintain eternal vigilance over the entrance. Entering the atrium, she dodges around the surprisingly large crowd and scans the area until she finds the sign she’s looking for, mounted on a tripod in the center of the room.

Hurrying over, she examines it. Most of the upper half is taken up by a large photo of the face of a clean-shaven, handsome man. His hair is salt-and-pepper, thick, with a nice haircut. He’s looking into the camera with a gentle smile. The girl lingers over the photo for a moment before turning her attention to the text beneath.

“Today only,” she whispers, carefully mouthing the words of her second language, “in the auditorium, celebrated author Kieron Falks reads an excerpt from his new novel, ’Tidings’. Mr. Falks will give a talk about writing and will be autographing copies of his new novel for attendees afterward.“

Glancing down at the times listed, the girl breathes a sigh of relief to see she still has half an hour before the reading is scheduled to begin. She reaches into her bag to reassure herself that she has her copy of Tidings. She’s halfway through the novel already, struggling through the English because she’s unwilling to wait for the French translation.

She looks up and starts trying to puzzle out the signs when someone gently taps her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” says a deep, mellifluous voice with a slight Irish brogue, “do you know where I can find the auditorium?”

She turns around to find herself face to face with the author himself. She utters an exclamation in French and then just blinks half a dozen times.

“Ah, eh, sorry, um, excusez moi, I thought you were American, I, uh, sorry...” He raises his hands in an apologetic manner and begins to step away.

“Non! No! I am! I mean I am not American but I speak it. English!“

She steps toward him to stop him and immediately (inevitably) trips over her own feet. With a small squeak she hurtles straight at him. Scenes from a hundred bad romance movies flicker through her head as she falls, and she thinks it might be better if she went ahead and died of some sort of shame-induced stroke before she lands on him.

Of course, she doesn’t. And of course, he catches her with all the grace and ease of a leading man, putting her back on her feet and picking up her bag while she wonders when her head with explode from mortification. He puts his hand on her arm and says “No harm done, lass. Are you all right?”

She nods, and he lets her go.

“Lets try again, shall we?” She can hear the laughter in his voice. “My name is Kieron, and I’m supposed to be in the auditorium here in a few minutes. Do you by any chance know where it is?”

She shakes her head, and miraculously manages speech. “No. No, but I am here too, to see you.”

Before she loses her nerve, she rummages in her bag and pulls out her half-read copy of Tidings and shows it to him.

He laughs out loud this time. “Well, after today I can honestly tell people I’ve had a fan throw themselves at me.” He reaches for her book and draws a pen from his jacket. “What is your name, lass?”

“Je suis Sophie. I’m Sophie.“

He opens the cover of her book and writes for a moment. Holding it open, he pauses, and looks back up at her. This time, he really looks, saying nothing, and she can feel herself flushing. Still holding the book in one hand, with the other he adroitly caps his pen, puts it back in his jacket, and draws out another.

In spite of everything, Sophie can’t help but stare at the second pen. It’s beautiful, the case looks like whorls of stone and metal and light, all mixed together. The careful manner with which he holds it gives the impression that it’s far heavier than it should be, for its size. He uses it to jot a few more words into the cover of her book, and then puts it away. Sophie blinks when it’s hidden from view.

He closes the book and returns it to her. “There, now that’s out of the way, Sophie, and I do believe I’ve spied our destination.”

He directs her attention to a small sign behind her and somewhat to the left printed with “Auditorium” and an arrow, which points toward a hallway a number of people are making their way into.

“I do hope you’ll stay for the reading, though I’ve nothing to bribe you with now that you’ve my autograph.” He smiles at her and extends his arm.

Any hope that her face had faded to a more natural shade is discarded as she self-consciously takes his arm and they make their way down the hall.

Sophie settles into her seat in the packed half-amphitheater of the auditorium. Kieron had parted ways with her with an apologetic shrug when one of the event coordinators spotted him and came over to hustle him backstage. Looking around, she sees that much of the crowd is older, though there are a few people in their twenties like her sprinkled here and there. Kieron’s novels weren’t easy fare in her langue maternelle, much less English, so it doesn’t surprise her that the crowd skews higher in age.

While she waits for the rest of the audience to settle so the reading can begin, she retrieves her copy of the novel from her bag and opens the cover to look at Kieron’s autograph.

Written in a steady, strong hand, it reads ’I’ve never had someone fall for me so quickly! Kieron Falks’

She flushes all over again at the embarrassing memory, but then looks below his signature to see another line of text. It’s... odd. The ink is a kind of glittering slew of colors, never settling on one. The letters are strangely spidery, as though written by someone else entirely, and, even to her somewhat awkward English skills, the words made little sense.

It reads ’Sophie waits.’

She’s not sure what he means by that. Does he want her to wait for the reading to finish and get in the autograph line? If so, why didn’t he just ask her to while they were talking?

She’s still trying to puzzle it out when the odd letters begin to... to strip themselves off the page. She watches, agape, as the words prise themselves off the paper to float just above it, and then burst into smaller and smaller scatterings of glittering dust, until none is left. Now only the “fall” line and his autograph remain.

She’s still staring at the blank spot where the words used to be when a woman comes to the lectern to introduce Kieron. Sophie closes the book and puts it back in her bag, still unsure about what happened. Perhaps she should get in the autograph line and ask him? But no... she would sound like a crazy person.

She starts as the crowd around her suddenly chuckles. She realizes that Kieron is on stage and has begun to speak, and they’re laughing at one of his jokes. She puts the letters out of her mind and settles back to listen to the reading.

“... and I’d like to thank you all so much for coming out and listening to me blather at you for an hour. I have it on the best authority that if I don’t move along to the autograph table now that there will penalties, and whilst I was raised a Catholic, I promise you that no nun was ever so intimidating as a librarian running behind schedule. Thank you!”

Kieron leaves the stage to laughter and applause, and Sophie is grinning and clapping as loudly as anyone. The crowd starts to pack up and make their way to the line for the autograph table, but she stays seated to let everyone else go first. Besides, she reasons, maybe when she goes to ask him what the words meant he’ll be able to spend a little more time with her if other people aren’t waiting.

The wait is interminable, but she enjoys watching Kieron interact with his fans. Most of them he just talks to for a moment or two before signing their books for them, but a few he pays special attention to. One older lady near the front of the line is using a cane, and he jumps up once he sees her and gives her his seat while he talks with her for a few minutes before signing her copy.

Everyone in line is patient, and he makes them all feel appreciated for the moment or two he’s with them. That makes Sophie a little insecure. Maybe he’s just like that all the time, and didn’t really want to see her again. But then why ’Sophie waits’?

Soon enough, the last few people in line have made their way up, and he makes a special effort to spend a little extra time with them before moving them along. The library staffers who helped with the reading come up at the very last, and he talks with them for a few minutes before they, too, begin to leave. One of them looks up and sees her still sitting in her seat, and starts up towards her, no doubt to shoo her along (it’s getting late, no doubt the library closes soon), but Kieron claps a hand on the staffer’s shoulder and says a few words to him, and the staffer nods and joins his coworkers as they return to the library proper.

Soon, it’s just Sophie and Kieron in the big room, she sitting high in the seats, he sitting at the autograph table gazing at her. By all rights, now is when she should approach him and ask about the words, but something makes her pause. She doesn’t think she should go down to him. She thinks she should... she should wait. Yes. She should just wait.

‘Sophie waits.’

Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open, but, she still doesn’t move. Kieron, having been watching her, sees her sudden consternation and grins. He reaches into his coat and draws out a pen. The pen. She can tell from all the way back here. He fiddles with it for a moment and then holds it up. Suddenly a shimmer surrounds it and then... vanishes. Almost as though a tiny glittering cloud had been pulled into the pen.

Immediately, Sophie stands up. Almost before she realizes she can stand up, she’s stomping down the auditorium steps to confront him.

“I... what... you...”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“What? No! What...”

“If you have dinner with me, lass, I can clear some things up for you.”

Through all of this, he hasn’t lost his gentle grin. She knows he’s having fun at her expense, but she doesn’t think he’s... malicious.

She points at the pen. “If I come to dinner, you will explain that.” She opens her book and points to where the words had been. “And that!” She points back up to where she had been sitting. “And plus particulierement THAT.”

“I will.”

She fumes for a minute and stares at him. Looking at his face, at that grin, she starts to lose some of her anger and develop some of the star-struck awkwardness she had before the talk.

“Fine!”

He stands up and offers her his arm. “Excellent! I know just the place.

As they walk the few blocks to the restaurant, he keeps up a stream of conversation, slowly drawing her out. For her part, Sophie spends one moment angry and the next flustered and shy. She wishes he weren’t so... charming.

As they walk the last block, she finally tells him so. “You are too charming. I am still angry!”

“I promise, we’ll have a nice meal, and by the time we leave the restaurant, you’ll know all there is to know about this.” He pats his breast pocket. “In the meantime, lets enjoy ourselves, and you can tell me story of how young Sophie came to America.”

Determined not to blush again, she gives him a curt nod and they walk through the doors.

“Ah, Mr. Falks, I’d heard you were in town, so good to see you! And who is your companion?” the hostess is a lovely older woman in a stylish black dress.

“Mary, dear, it’s so nice to see you!” He exchanges air kisses with her and then turns to indicate Sophie. “This is Sophie, who began the day a fan and now threatens to end it an enemy.”

“Hello dear. I was going to warn you about this cad but it sounds like you’re well on your way already.”

Sophie smiles at her. “Well, the... ah... jury is out.”

“A perpetual state of affairs for Mr. Falks, it seems.” Turning back to the man in question, she says “You really need to start making reservations, Kieron.”

“My dear, the only way I have to measure my welcome is to show up uninvited.”

Mary rolls her eyes and winks at Sophie. “Very well then, follow me.

The restaurant is nice enough that Sophie frets that she’s under-dressed, but Mary doesn’t seem concerned as she leads them to a lovely table for two in a little cupola with a small window looking over the twinkling lights of the bay. She murmurs a ‘thank you’ to the young server who pulls her chair out, and carefully tucks her feet below the long tablecloth.

Kieron murmurs something quietly to Mary, who nods and takes her leave. The server offers a wine list, and Kieron says “Whilst I have great pride in my heritage, I don’t think there’s an Irishman alive who would argue he knows wine better than the French. Would you make a selection for us, Sophie? If you’ll choose, I’ll order the food.”

She takes the list from the smiling server and scans through the list. After flirting with the idea of revenge through overpriced wine, she chooses a nice but not too-expensive red.

“Steak it is then.” Keiron says after the server leaves. “Probably for the best. Don’t tell Mary, but the fish here is only spectacular, not extraordinary.”

Sophie snorts in spite of herself. “Well?” She gestures to his breast pocket.

He sighs. “Lets leave it for after the meal. I’ll keep my word. Why don’t you tell me your story?”

“My story?

“Why are you in America? Your English is quite good.”

“Oh, ah, hmm. Well it is in a way your fault.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. When I was sixteen I came across the French version of Le Sommeil, ah, I think the English title is Sleep, your second novel.“

“I see.”

“Well, I loved it very much. I went out and bought the other two that had French translations then and read them right away. There were more in English, but no French publisher.”

He nods. “I remember, I think, something about a problem with the distribution rights with the U.K. publisher of my novels. France was not a big market for me, then.”

She says, “Not even now, I think, I still can talk to no one in France about the books, no one has read them. So, I ordered them in English, and they came, and of course I could not read. So I took one with me and I went to see the English teacher at my school and I held it up and said ‘I must read this!’ and of course he picked up a children’s book on his desk and said ‘You must read this!”

“And so, slowly, I learn. It took two years to finish that first one, you use so... such dense language!” she waves her hands in the air for emphasis. “The French translator of your other novels should get a medal.”

He laughs. “Some of my critics say the people who actually read my books in English should get a medal, too.”

She grins. “So I am old enough for universite and I say to my father, ‘I want to go to school in America!’ and of course he says ‘I want a daughter who is sane!’ but we agree: if I spend two years in France studying English, he will let me come here to finish my degree. And so I did that, and now I teach French to rich children in the summers while I go to school in the winters.“

He claps. “And here we are. I will say, that’s the most flattering thing anyone has ever told me about my writing. Now let me tell you the most humbling thing anyone has ever said about it...”

Soon (”Too soon!” thinks Sophie) the meal is done, and they are lingering over their wine. It’s still early, as far as life is measured in the city, and the restaurant bustles with activity.

“Well,” says Kieron, “dinner is done, and I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

“Yes! You do!”

He reaches into his coat and draws out the pen. Bending to one side to rummage in his briefcase, he pulls out a small spiral notebook, which he shows her is blank. As she watches, he writes in the same thin, spidery, glinting hand ’Sophie scratches her nose.’

Almost before she finishes reading she notices that one hand is rubbing a non-existent itch on the bridge of her nose. She snatches her hand away. Almost immediately, the words begin to peel up from the page and flow back into the pen resting in his hand. She’s too stunned to say anything. He could write anyth...

‘Sophie quickly slips off her panties, puts them in her bag, and sits quietly.’

These words don’t fade as she pushes the smooth fabric of the panties she was wearing a moment before into the deepest recesses of her bag. She sits back, but almost immediately begins trembling.

‘Sophie trusts Kieron.’

She immediately calms down, although she knows she should be quaking with terror. Kieron is watching her closely, with damned small smile on his handsome features. The server approaches to present the check. Kieron lays three large denomination bills on the tray and scribbles something on the check. Sophie wants to warn the young man before he reads the words, but he’s already done it. He sets the tray down on the table, and then gets on his hands and knees. Sophie watches with growing alarm as he slips under the tablecloth and disappears underneath the table.

‘Sophie relaxes.’

And she does relax, even as she feels the hands of the young server slide up her shins to grasp her knees. She feels the gentle pressure as he parts them. She feels the brush of hair against one inner thigh while butterfly kisses move up the other. Kieron reaches across the table to take her small hands in his strong warm ones at the same moment the tip of an agile tongue slides gently up the length of her slit.

It’s been a while for Sophie, the server... servicing her is not unskilled. Soon she’s panting as the strange tongue dances inside her, and if she could, she would have screeched when it suddenly withdrew. It is replaced moments later by clever fingers, and the mouth rejoins them by focusing its attentions on her swollen clit.

Her hands are alternately squeezing and jerking in Keiron’s, who is watching her avidly. Every time she comes back to herself for a moment and manages to focus, his piercing eyes are locked on hers, and his little grin has been replaced by a thin-lipped intensity as he watches her shudder through her ordeal.

Her mouth gapes as she begins to lose all sense of self possession, and if she didn’t have a geas on her voice, she’d be crying out as she is finger-fucked by clever hands and sucked and licked by a clever mouth. The server’s free slips behind to cup a buttock and urges with gentle pressure for her to slide forward, which she does unthinkingly, to the very edge of her seat, splaying her legs even wider under the table for him.

Seconds later, the most earthshaking orgasm she’s ever had finally crests and begins to unleash itself on her body. At the same moment, a finger from the server’s other hand, wet with either spit or her own juices, easily slides into her ass and joins its sibling in rhythmically violating her.

She’s absolutely rigid against the chair, while every muscle in her body tries to pull her in a different direction as she is crushed, helpless, in pulsing orgasm. Her eyes are focused a thousand yards away at nothing, and her mind is shut down as small, hitching gasps are the only noises emerging from her gaping mouth.

Finally she begins to jerk as her body allows her to react in ways her voice cannot at the moment, and only the grip of Kieron’s powerful hands keep her upright at the table in a semblance of public dignity. Mercifully, finally, she relaxes backwards in her seat and blacks out.

She comes to in what feels like hours, but must be only seconds, because the first thing she sees is the server’s back as he calmly makes his way to the kitchen. Miraculously, she’s still upright in the chair, though Kieron has released her hands. Wearily, blissfully, she looks up at him, and sees that he has recovered his infuriating little grin. He’s moved the notepad to her place at the table, right in front of her, and resting next to it is the pen.

There is only one line on the top page now.

‘Sophie knows what happens next.’

And she does. Even as the words peel off the paper, she’s sliding down off her seat and slipping underneath the tablecloth. It’s surprisingly dark under the table, but her eyes adjust soon enough. She runs her hands along the cloth covering his thighs, and her fingers quickly find the fastening of his fly.

In a moment, she’s pulling his cock out with a small gasp. ”Well, of course it is huge. How could it not be?”

The scent of his cologne mixes with the slightly salty taste of his flesh as she closes her lips over him and begins to suck. ”I have in my mouth the penis of my favorite writer. I am sucking him in the middle of a crowded restaurant, and the only worry I have is that someone interrupts before he finishes.”

She doesn’t know how much of this is the pen making her depraved, or if this is just who she is, and the pen has let her act on it. As she pushes her mouth ever further down his thickness, she reflects that at this point, it doesn’t really matter.

“Well, Mr. Falks,” Mary’s voice if muffled by the thick tablecloth. “I am assuming that if I check the ladies room, I will be unable to locate your little French companion.”

“Likely not, Mary.” She can feel the vibrations of his speech through the penis in her mouth. She begins to move her head more quickly. “But I suspect if you peeked below the tablecloth, you’d find a familiar sight. You’re welcome to join her if you’re feeling nostalgic.”

She can feel herself getting wetter as they discuss her. “Perhaps if I my hostess didn’t have the night off, Kieron. Is she good?”

“Quite. She sped up when we started talking about her, I think she likes the venue. I quite like her, and she knows her wine.”

“Well, try not to drown her. I recall that much from when I was in her position.“

“I’m sure she’ll take your words to heart, sweet Mary. At her pace she’ll be seeing how well she swims sooner rather than later, so to speak.”

“Well, enjoy yourself, Kieron.” Sophie hears a knock on the table. “And you too, Sophie. See if you can get all of him in your mouth. I never could.”

Sophie moans around the cock between her lips. She’s begin rubbing her clit, the public nature of the act exciting her past restraint. She is straining to get more of him inside her, but it feels like her jaw is about to unhinge, and she’s gotten the head in her throat, but despairs of more.

“It’s all right, lass.” He says from above. One of his hands slips under the table to stroke her hair. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.

His hand withdraws, and Sophie stops straining to swallow more of him. Instead, she sets up a steady pace and rubs herself as she concentrates the movement of the smooth skin of his penis against her tongue and inhales the scent of his cologne.

“Yes. Yes, lass. Just like that, sweet little girl. What an eager little mouth you have! Such energy.” His hand slips under the table and begins smoothing her hair again while she works. Sophie falls into a sort of zen trance, concentrating on the sensation of him inside her mouth and the gentle touch of his strong fingers. Minutes pass.

Suddenly, his hand moves to cup her cheek, and she hears him speak again. “All right, dear, I’m close.”

Sophie draws her mouth backwards on him until just the head of his penis is enveloped in her mouth. Her lips form a tight seal, trapping it, and her tongue swirls around the crown. The hand she isn’t using to rub herself encircles his shaft and begins to stroke firmly. She feels him jerk slightly, and then her mouth is being flooded.

His issue is hot, and thick, and there’s a lot of it. Sophie swallows it as fast as she can, stroking him empty, drinking it down like mothers milk, furiously frigging herself. She cums just as the last few mouthfuls are bubbling out of him, and her lips loosen involuntarily for a moment, allowing a fair amount to drool from her mouth and down her chin to drip in long, stringy strips to the marble floor.

She licks her herself clean, and then his penis, before tucking it back into his pants and refastening his fly.

“Dear, if any got away from you and onto the floor, be a sweetheart and lick that up before return to your chair, would you? I hate to inconvenience the staff here.”

She’s tonguing the floor clean before he even finishes the sentence, the humiliation stoking the embers left behind by her most recent orgasm. Once it’s sparkling, she edges backwards out from under the table and self-consciously returns to her seat.

“Goodness, you’re a bit of a mess, lass. If you like you can go use the ladies to freshen up.”

She flushes and stands up, looking around for the restrooms. On the way, Mary catches her eye gives her a wink, and she quickly looks down at the ground, although she can’t prevent an embarrassed grin from stealing onto her features. She enters the ladies room and straightens up taking a few moments to regain her composure, looking at herself and wondering why she’s not running away while she has the chance. There’s nothing compelling her to return to the table, he didn’t write down any more lines with that terrible, wonderful pen. Without quite knowing why, soon she’s sitting down across from him once more.

“You’re wondering why you’re not going for the exit at full speed?”

“Mmm. I was just asking myself precisely that.”

“Well, a lesson, then. This,” he flourishes the pen, “can only compel what it writes, within a certain latitude, and only if you read it... and no one wrote down what you just did below the table, surrounded by all these nice people.” He waves a hand to indicate the other patrons, none of whom are paying them any mind. Granted, you probably made the assumption based on the earlier heroics of that young waiter, but if ’Sophie knows what comes next’ had meant, to you, that Sophie fled the restaurant screaming bloody murder, that’s exactly what would have happened.“

“Instead, Sophie decided that what came next was crawling under the table and pleasuring her dinner companion middle of a crowded restaurant. You’re a smart girl, so I’ll let you infer what your choice means about your own motivations. For now, can we agree that you have enjoyed the ride so far?”

Sophie stares at him, waging an internal debate with herself. It had been easier when she could blame everything on the pen, but she didn’t think he was lying, and the last minutes had been the most sexually thrilling of her life. She decided on honesty.

“... oui. I have... enjoyed the ride.”

He claps his hands together, once. “Excellent! There are still all sorts of things I’d like to do tonight, and I’d hate to lose your company. But first, I do still have a debt to discharge to you for coming to dinner with me, and I pride myself on keeping my word.”

He picks up the pad and pen, and quickly scribes a line of text.

“Where I come from, lass...” he says, pushing both the pad and pen across the table to her.

The text reads, ’Sophie writes down what comes next.’

“... we learn by doing.”