The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She was standing with her back to him, measuring the Rum, slowly, into both glasses, and in alternating fashion, by pouring it continuously, from one to the other. The glasses, this time, were more than half-empty. They were half full. The carpet was warm and soft beneath his bare feet, as he stood unheard behind her and watched her drop a single ice cube into each glass.

Give Caesar what belongs to Caesar, he thought with a natural feeling-dominant male smile. Give God what belongs to God. And give me what is naturally mine.

She had been about to pick up both glasses and had leaned forward, slightly, toward the small kitchen bench when he quickly stepped very close to where she stood.

As her hands closed about each glass, his left hand suddenly came to rest gently on the back of her neck then began to gently press her, slowly forward and downward. At the same time, his right hand had reached down to lightly grasp the hem of her robe, drawing it upward and over her white buttocks, to let it rest, gathered, on her lower back.

‘Oh!’ was all she said in her genuine surprise, yet he continued to press her neck gently forward and downward, until her face came to rest, softly, against the bench top. She had not resisted.

She was perfect. Nature was perfect. Human nature was even more perfect. Her hands still held both glasses of half-full Rum. Both his hands then slowly reached further forward and gently signalled she was to let go of them. She did.

With a light grasp of each of her wrists, he then straightened up, bringing her arms slowly behind her, as he did so. He lay her right wrist in the centre of her lower back. Then he crossed her left wrist over the top of the right and allowed the fingers of his left hand to curl around both and then close, gently, yet firmly.

‘Oh!’ she gasped, and it was a gasp, with just a slight trace of fear, of uncertainty, of apprehension for the unknown.

With his right hand, he withdrew the chord from the loops around the waist of the robe he was wearing and then firmly bound her wrists, behind her.

‘Oh, No! Don’t!’ she gasped, startled. And she was startled.

He pressed her firmly downward then cinched the final knot. Her eyes were closed and fluttering. Her lips were parted and trembled, as she breathed. Her breasts and chest rested on the bench top. Her open-mouth breathing was audible. His right hand then slipped down to her inner right thigh and gently pressed it outward.

‘Oh, no! Please!’ she gasped softly again.

Yet he knew it was not a surprise, more of a soft gasp. Then she moved her right leg out to the right, by about a foot, just the same. His left hand remained gently resting on the back of her neck. It no longer needed to press her down, yet it remained there, nevertheless, for the time being. His right hand slipped down to the high inner thigh of her left leg and pressed her gently there. Her skin was warm and soft.

‘Oh, please!’ she mouthed softly. It was not a gasp. He knew and he knew she knew he knew. It was not a surprise. She moved her left leg about a foot further to the left than it had been.

The heavens and the earth will be rolled up in your presence with me, he thought, as he felt himself stir to real and natural life when his gaze riveted on the very depth of her widely splayed thighs. And one who lives from the natural Living One will not see death, he found himself concluding, as his right hand slowly slipped deeply between her legs and cupped her warm fur-carpeted female mound, completely.

‘Ohh, no! Please don’t!’ she gasped, surprised.

It was a gasp, and it was in surprise, yet he felt no resistance beneath his left hand resting on the back of her neck. He gently and naturally pulsed her carpeted mound and in doing that, clearly felt her natural female pulse, answer him, in return. The palm of his right hand quickly wetted warm and he smiled, gently lifting her fully cupped female core.

‘Please don’t. Ohh, God,’ she moaned.

It was not a gasp. It was not a surprise. And he knew she knew he knew. It was just a simple, natural moan of raw, unforced female pleasure, in simply being her.

He smiled and his heart swelled, along with his own natural maleness, as her pulse grew stronger against the cup of his right palm. He simply held her there, gently, against his upward pressure, waiting. And in the very centre of his palm, a different lake began pooling, drop by drop. Only this time, the fluid was warm, not cold, as the rain had been.

Slowly, he gently dragged his right palm backward, between her legs, careful to keep his hand cupped. A fingertip trailed firmly between the warm folds of her body’s furred lips, as he went.

‘Please! Oh, Jesus!’ she protested and groaned deeply.

Yet, there was no pain and no surprise. It was no gasp and no moan. It was a wake-up call to her female, from the natural male attending her. This he knew she now knew.

Slowly, with his left hand still resting gently on the back of her neck, he brought his right hand up to his mouth and extended his tongue, tasting her warm lake’s beginning. She instantly inflamed and intoxicated his body.

His maleness flexed beneath the brown robe, which covered his nudity. And then it did not, but lay at his feet. He glanced down at himself and the life living naturally within him, once again. Yet he could not remember last, so he didn’t. He leaned himself fully into the crease of her warm, firm fleshy buttocks. He felt her incredible warmth there.

‘Oh, no! Don’t! God!’ she protested again and cried, and she did.

Yet, it was no surprise. It wasn’t a gasp a moan or a groan. He glanced over at the left side of her face and saw the tears. She was crying, but not from pain, not from pain. He released his left hand from her neck and withdrew backward from her warmth.

Gently, he gripped both her buttocks and spread them as widely, as possible. Then, he leaned again forward, creasing himself fully between her cheeks. Slowly, he relaxed the spread of her flesh and allowed it to close wholly over him. The warmth of entrapment immediately engulfed his very male soul. The natural male trinity of his wholeness pulsed his strong and powerful heartbeat, steadily, against her entire warm crease, from the bottom of her core to the top of her bottom, knowing she could feel the beating heart of his entire living male trapped there.

‘Oh, my God!’ she groaned, and this time, it was a groan, not a pretence or a gasp, or a moan or a cry, but a groan of natural raw lust and deep female natural passion, building from a simmer, that began with the very first word she gave him in the rain. He felt her female’s heartbeat pulse back in return.

His maleness strongly reared, trapped, but not bound between her trembling hot cheeks. He felt his breathing deepen to begin to match hers, as it left her open mouth. He noticed her fingers white-knuckled, as they clenched and unclenched continuously. He gazed down at her gentle female face in its feral heat, knowing her natural wholeness being radiated, at that very moment, through every pore of her spirit, body and mind.

You read the face of the sky and of the Earth, he thought idly, as he pressed himself even more firmly against her trembling rear heat—yet you have not recognised the one who is between your trembling flesh, and you do not know how to read this moment. But you will.

‘Oh, God! Ohh, my God! Ohh, Jesus!’ she cried, and she did.

He just smiled and pressed her harder there, feeling himself expand and contract, as he lay, for the moment, trapped and captured by such a natural female so fine. His hands rose from her hips and lightly grasped each of her shoulders, then gently squeezed, as if silently signalling intent to come.

‘Ohh, please!’ she groaned miserably, with her open mouth sucking for air, with which to protest her demand for no slow torture of nature’s natural will for them both.

Yet, he only smiled, as his fingers tightened on each shoulder and then with slow, but gathering force and quiet strength, he began to press himself, harder and harder, up against her.

‘Ohh, God! Ohh, God, yes! Please! Ohh, God!

His fists tightened into her flesh and dug deeply, while he held her down and held himself pressed hard up against her shuddering and convulsing hips and buttocks. Her shoulders tried to lift, but he held them firmly down. Her head turned rapidly from side to side, while her hips and thighs arched back fiercely against him, with a quiet, but urgent strength and call for completion of their own while at her shuddering peak.

And there he held her, until her cries and moans became quiet, once more, and her breathing settled. Then he enjoyed her settling afterglow, as it came and went, noticed by all, interrupted only, by the occasional, involuntary shaking or tremor, as it passed through her buttocks, vibrating gently on his strong maleness that rested on the wings of natural non-time, waiting.

‘Who… are… you?’ she asked softly, in three separate breaths.

I am just a natural man, a male he thought to say, yet he did not. Nobody ever understood. I am one with the Universe and myself and all who live in it. Yet I am just a man and a male, with a right to live as just me and be happy.

Tell us who you are, he recalled from somewhere long ago, before the desert—so that we may believe in you.

He smiled. He couldn’t answer them or her because he did not even know his own name. He knew he had one, but he could not recall it. It was perfect. Total anonymity, even unto himself, but he felt no shame and no guilt. He felt only love. His answer was to press fully into her relaxed warm body’s crease and hold her there for several long seconds, before relaxing, once more, to begin to withdraw away from her to rest, gently, against her natural warmth.

‘Ohh, Jesus!’ she sighed deeply.

Her female’s natural sincerity caused him to smile with his heart.

‘Don’t go!’ she said softly then began to weep, almost silently.

Suffer the little children to come unto me, he thought idly. We know that you will depart from us, he recalled someone saying, in his genetic mind. Who is to be our leader?

He smiled at the thought. He couldn’t even lead himself out of the rain and away from a suicidal, five-way traffic intersection without the help of an unknown woman.

Wherever you are, he then thought. You are to go to He who is the righteous, for whose sake heaven and earth came into being.

He wondered a few moments on that thought, while enjoying the feeling of her buttocks clamping and flexing around him, every now and then. They were not involuntary actions on her part. He knew that. And he knew she knew he knew that. That was what made it so perfect, he concluded in his mind, with a smile and another deep and forceful press forward, against her natural rear heat.

‘Ohh, God!’ she moaned softly, with a sigh that edged her vocal chords in new lustful beginnings.

He relaxed against her, again, to the sound of her quiet sigh.

‘Ohh. Please don’t leave,’ she almost whispered, gently arching her hips and thighs backward against his natural pressuring strength.

She is blessed, he concluded, who came into being before she came into being, as are we all.

He thought that thought idly, as if the thought had just drifted down from a cloud and settled into his conscious thinking.

If you become my own and listen to my words, the spaces in between the letters of stones will minister to you in your coming times of natural need.

He was ministering to her now, and she was in her home, ministering to him, out of the rain, even though she did not know it. She had begun when she had rescued him from the intersection, a five-way intersection that had death on each corner, yet she had not allowed it. She had arrived in the rain and amidst the abuse from drivers.

Five intersections, he mused. Natural coincidences can be found anywhere. He smiled. There could have been seven intersections, and might yet be. He was lucky.

There are five trees for you in paradise, he reflected, which remain undisturbed, summer and winter, and whose leaves do not fall. He then imagined five trees, with their long boughs, reaching for nature’s sun and natural nurturing. Whoever becomes acquainted with them will not experience death.

He could have died that night, in the middle of the five-way intersection, in the pouring rain, were it not for her. He knew that now and he had known that then. Yet he had not died. He could have, but he had not. He wondered then how long he would have remained standing there, had she not arrived, when she had. He hadn’t died and she had come.

It was perfect. And it still was.

Gently, his hands left her shoulders and came to rest on each cheek of her. Slowly, he withdrew from her captive warmth.

‘Oh, no,’ she sighed, dejectedly.