The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Benevolent Predator

By alluriana with a lot of help from Wanderlust and PutASpellOnYou.

Chapter One

Billy knew that when he returned to school, things would be different. This college campus, full of so many young and innocent faces was, he thought to himself, a wonderfully target rich environment. So many beautiful young women at every turn. Had the he been so young and naïve when he first attended? He looked around the classroom he was in and smiled. He had made the decision to go back to school and get another degree, this time in Psychology. The workings of the mind were something he enjoyed, and wanted to learn more.

The professor droned on about fetishism, Billy looked at all the young fresh faces, so eager and typing away on their laptops. He half heard what the professor was saying, as he pretended to take notes.

“Fetishism is characterized as a disorder when there is a pathological assignment of sexual fixation, fantasies or behaviors toward an inanimate object—frequently an item of clothing—such as underclothing or a high-heeled shoe—or to nongenital body parts —such as the foot. Only through use of this object can the individual obtain sexual gratification.”

Billy chuckled to himself as the last sentence was stated “The cause of fetishistic behavior as a pattern of sexual gratification cannot be explained easily.” It may not be explained easily, but Billy knew he could enhance and even create a fetish from a clean cloth.

“Treatment approaches have included traditional psychoanalysis, hypnosis, cognitive and behavior therapy as well as pharmacotherapy.” Billy understood and knew a lot about the type of therapy listed, but his uses for them were not used for treatment. He again chuckled to himself.

He looked around the room and his eyes settled on a girl two rows away. Her face was fresh, and alert, yet her eyes showed she knew, understood what the professor was saying. Something rang true for her, as she nodded along, agreeing silently. He watched her as the professor talked about symptoms, causes, and treatments for various fetishes.

After class let out he followed her at a distance. She ended up going to one of those serene coffee shops that littered the campus. As she got her large frozen drink and settled down into one of the big leather chairs, he approached. “Don’t I recognize you from our class this morning?” He knew he looked harmless. People always dismissed him as harmless. Billy used this and his name to his advantage.

“Hi, I’m Billy. I am pretty sure we were both in today’s Psychology class about Fetishes.” He extended his hand towards her and smiled his sweetest smile. He saw her relax as she looked up into his eyes. She had already decided he was not a threat.

She reached up and took his hand. “Hi, my name is Jennifer. I don’t remember seeing you in class, sorry. What did you say your name was, Billy?” She smiled a little condescendingly. Billy shook her hand and was slow to release it. He let his fingers trail over the flat of her palm. He felt her reaction to the intimate caress and released her hand without another word. He walked away, and turned back to wave, with a tiny smirk. She was still standing, staring at his retreating back.

Two days later when Billy entered the classroom, his eyes scanned it for Jennifer. He saw her sitting in the same area as last time. He took a seat behind her and out of her line of vision. He watched her through the entire lecture. She was completely involved in every word the professor had to say. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, as she took down his thoughts, almost verbatim. He slipped out before the lecture ended and hovered in the shadows until she emerged. He watched her look around, as if looking for him, but he remained out of sight. He trailed her again at a distance, to the same coffee shop, she ordered the same drink, and sat in the same chair.

Billy continued to shadow her movements, learn her patterns. It appeared she was pretty much a loner, focused only on her studies. After a few weeks, he felt he knew her well enough.

Today’s lecture had Billy’s full attention. Erotic humiliation and bondage fantasies were the topic to be discussed. As he listened closely, he also kept his eye on Jennifer, gauging her reaction to what was being discussed. He raised his hand and as the professor called on him he asked “What about the role of extreme pain and pleasure in sexual imprinting? Is it possible for a person’s body to respond to stimuli where consciously they consider themselves offended or turned off by the action?” When the professor prompted him for details, Billy plunged on. “What if a girl dated a guy when she was 16, for two years, who was very intensely dominant with her. He had her gang raped by two of his friends one day, along with him, and discovered that she orgasmed several times during the day, so that fueled the fire and he taunted her about it. Wouldn’t it be true that she would almost need that stimulation to reach full orgasm again? She would crave the humiliation that went along with the orgasm?”

Billy turned and watched Jennifer’s reaction to his question. Her face blazed with a deep red blush and she shook her head several times as if to shake the image away. She opened her eyes and looked directly at Billy, her mouth somewhat agape. He noticed her protruding nipples, the damp perspiration above her lip, and how dilated her pupils had become. He knew he hit his mark. Her body never forgot how erotic it was physically to be taken and then humiliated. He smiled at her casually and waved a little friendly wave as if nothing had occurred. He had guessed, but now he knew he guessed correctly. The thrill coursed through him.

Again he left class ahead of her, but this time he arrived at class right before it began and sat right next to her, leaned in close and whispered softly, “Hello, Jennifer.”

She turned, startled by his sudden appearance, his closeness to her. Their knees were touching, as he stretched his legs wide. She tried to pull back, into her own space, but the seating and desks limited her. Before she could protest the professor started speaking and her attention was drawn towards the front of the room. He pretended to listen to what the lecture was about, but he was entirely focused on Jennifer. He leaned in her direction, and breathed in her scent, loud enough for her to know what he was doing. He exhaled with a sound of enjoyment deep in his throat. He watched as her fingers paused above the keyboard and felt her stiffen. Soon the lecture was over and Billy leaned in and whispered, “Take care, Jennifer.” He strode out of the class and mixed with the crowd on campus. He took up his usual position and watched her emerge and search. Her eyes scanned the area, as she sought him out.

This time he made his way to her coffee shop and ordered her favorite iced drink and sat in her favorite chair. She arrived and seemed a bit frazzled. “Billy? That is your name, isn’t it? What happened after class, I was looking for you.”

“Why would you look for me, Jennifer?” Billy looked at her with full concern. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, well no nothing is wrong. Just after class I turned and you were gone.”

“Were you worried about me, Jennifer?” Billy kept his full attention completely on her eyes, as if you look deep into her.

She hadn’t really thought about it, but maybe she was concerned for him. “Well, I haven’t seen you in weeks, and then today out of the blue there you were, but then you were gone again.” She realized she sounded foolish and let the words fade out. “Umm, never mind, I guess I am just being foolish.”

“No, you are not being foolish, Jennifer. I am flattered you have even considered me since we met.” He reached out and took her hand again, running his fingers tenderly along the inside of her palm, fingertips brushing her inner wrist. He felt her relax and smiled and released her hand. “Well, I must be going.” Billy turned and left abruptly. This time he did not turn back, he knew her eyes were on his back.

The next few classes, Billy sat close to Jennifer, and observed her. He had watched her during that day’s lecture on rape and abuse, and while the professor explained repeatedly that rape and abuse had nothing to do with sexuality, and everything to do with power, and he saw her burning cheeks and the fidgeting in her seat refute every pious word of the lecture.

He approached her in the cafe again, happy to see that she extended her hand to be shaken without him prompting her. There were so many handshakes now that had become unresolved and confusing, but she knew what was expected of her now, and she was obeying without really thinking.

“Hello, Jennifer, I’m so pleased to find you here in this state, I think I’ve realized something very important...”

He shook her hand, and took hold of her wrist with his left hand, slowly withdrawing his right...

“And I have something I’d like to show you today.”

He took a peach from his right pocket, and rotated the palm of her right hand upwards, and gently laid the peach into it.

He went on: “How are you feeling about the course? There’s some deep stuff in there, that I’m not sure how to respond to, how to talk about it, but I know it’s there just the shame, and it’s important and powerful, and worth paying very careful attention to now, isn’t that right?”

Was she blushing again already? Billy continued to hold her hand with his left hand, while he made the lightest strokes to her wrist using the fingers of his right, holding her mental state open, expectant, unresolved...

“Very deep things indeed, I can tell, about how people’s sexuality can be so different and so powerful, so that how your sense of what is desirable and satisfying and arousing to you now may be very deeply hidden and yet very strongly, deeper felt now, very different and yet still the shame deep inside

He stroked her wrist repeatedly, reinforcing words like arousing and now and deeper and now. He spoke slowly and rhythmically, the emphasis of his phrases coming in time with her exhaled breaths, pausing occasionally to see if she would wait to breathe until she heard his voice release the rhythm again.

“It’s like this fruit, exactly the shame sort of process, very ripe and juicy, and you can feel your own juices starting to flow just thinking about how very rape and juicy that fruit really is.” Billy stroked the inside of her wrist with butterfly strokes. “Even if the fruit has been bruised, maybe especially if it’s one that’s abused, thinking about that now, there’s that shame deep connection between getting juicy and abused, a very rape fruit full of juice, and carrying all the experience of the bruises and bad handling, it’s all just making it juicier, and of course there’s the very shame connection between being more juicy and being more rape, that’s no secret, is it, it’s very plain, just the shame, couldn’t keep it secret even if you wanted to, no matter how shameful, it’s as plain as the expression on your face, don’t you feel that so strongly now.”

Each time he said juicy, or juice, or juices, he stroked her trapped wrist, watching with satisfaction as the anchor appeared, developed, strengthened... watched as she blushed, then squirmed, and blushed some more, and eventually just stared into his eyes with her face red, and her mouth open and moist as the arousal overtook her mind...

“And this course has really taught me, whatever we see on the surface, it’s our duty to go deeper, much deeper into it, and find out what is really flowing underneath now, how it’s changing and dynamic, it has its own logic, its own unstoppable journey, like the tissues of the fruit, full of bruises, very abused fruit, becoming softer and juicier with every moment, so rape, exactly the shame, getting ready to fall and go all the way now.”

Billy timed his strokes with his words, with her breathing, with his phrasing, until he could see that she was rocking gently back and forwards, her breathing getting deeper.

“And if you squeeze it, damage it, or abuse it, you can feel it getting juicier and raper, feel it deep inside now.”

As her orgasm approached, her hand closed on the peach, and the flesh oozed between her fingers, and the sweet peach juice ran down onto the table, pooling unnoticed as her mouth and eyes opened wider, and his strokes on her wrist became firmer and more frequent, until he was steadily rubbing the most sensitive and responsive spot, and she gasped.

“And it’s those very unusual experiences that go very deep that are so important in shaping our sexuality, even if we forget them, now, well done, even if we want to forget them because they are too puzzling or shameful or all three, they go right to the core of our being and stay there, tying your sexuality to that experience, and bringing new experiences into the shame deep understanding, that only those things feel right, feel satisfying, even if you can’t admit it now, you know it’s true deep inside, and even if you just want to forget all about it now, you know it won’t ever be the shame again without me being there to explain about the abuse and the rape.”

He lifted the crushed fruit from her slackening fist, setting it aside, and lifted her hand to his mouth, and took each finger in turn, sucking it clean, lapping the juice from her palm, while she still stared, expectant, passive, aroused, blushing.

He licked between phrases: “I’m not sure that professor knows enough about this, really, I do feel that we could help him, if we could show him what I know and what you can feel deep inside, if he could see, if the class could see, how much we understand between us, if those shame deep feelings could be displayed, they are too strong to deny, and if we saw those shame things, it would be so good.”

His lapping tongue crept down her palm, towards her wrist, towards that special spot which had made her come for him before.

“I know you’re thinking about these shame feelings now, and how important it is to keep them secret and hidden, but isn’t it also true, that if you think about revealing them, they get stronger, isn’t that right, and don’t you think that’s telling you something important, that it’s the shame thing as before, so that showing how aroused you become when I explain things to you is too powerful to keep hidden, and if only you let yourself go properly, the intensity of the feelings that you could experience would be worth anything, any amount of embarrassment, perhaps the shame and embarrassment are now too important to leave out, won’t you let me show you?”

She had begun rocking again, and her cheeks flamed, and her mouth gaped as his tongue crept nearer that sweet spot.

“Yes, let me show you off, just nod and agree that deep inside now, and you can move on, to the next step, the next lick, to the thing you want more than anything else in the world right now, the shame thing that we all want, release and pleasure...”

His tongue paused in its progress, and she frowned and seemed not to understand what was required of her, until slowly she began to nod, hesitating, then, as his tongue resumed its course, she nodded again, vigorously, and gasped “yes”, and would have agreed to much, much more if only he would make her cum. He licked her where she needed, and she came, helplessly, dizzyingly, she felt it so deep inside, so true, so powerful, so shameful and yet so right.

Billy released her hand, and stepped back. Jennifer seemed to slowly catch her breath and looked down at the mess they had made with the peach. She sucked in her breath and looked back to Billy’s face. Her cheeks burned with the shame and memory of what just happened, but already it seemed to be fading. She stared harder at the juice from the peach on the beautiful carpet, and knew something was wrong. Yet, she felt so good, so alive! The brightness in her cheeks subsided a bit as she looked at Billy again with a small smile.

“I need to be going now, Jennifer. Thanks for sharing the juicy peach with me today. See you in class.

Billy turned and walked away, but he heard Jennifer emit a tiny moan at the word juicy.