The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Perhaps it is my fantasy, my exhibitionist streak. But the idea appeals to me of walking along the beach in the altogether with a delicious girl holding my cock, keeping it erect and impressive. She does not have to be naked, though I suppose that would not spoil the idea at all and even enhance it. It would, again, be even better if I had a really big cock for people we meet to admire. Of course with the Amulet they would have no option but to be impressed. An idea that appeals is one I can put into practice.

I created quite a pleasant little society, a club where the rules specifically required nudity and erections; the flaccid penis simply not permitted. The wearing of codpieces and the like, yes cheating a little, was, as a result, the norm; the rule applying just as much to the lady members as the male, achieved with their charming strap on and strapless dildos: most fetching with their otherwise female attributes.

A fine competition ensued for the most outlandish cods. One buxom lady sported the most enormous and realistic simulacrum, putting the men almost to shame and if she squeezed it the right way (or had it squeezed) the ejaculation could reach across the room to the amusement and astonishment of all. But, of course, the most impressive were the men who risked ridicule by being ‘au naturel’ with the real and erect penis. Difficult to maintain whilst chatting or sipping a glass of wine. The more experienced, and I would say nonchalant, maintaining firmness with aid of a friend’s hand or casually dipping into her warm wetness as required.

I recall a furious argument going on between three men, their wet penises waggling in the air as they remonstrated with each other before turning as one to refresh themselves in the bent over lovely posteriors of three delightful red heads resting over a settee’ back and engaged in a quiet and completely separate conversation together. A few animated thrusts and the men withdrew to continue the argument. The whole delightful and surprising normality of the situation greatly pleased me as I sat in an armchair with my brandy and soda and Black Russian.

The club is still very much extant and I visit on occasion; its basement premises are down a quiet street off St James’s. I doubt you know it, the brass plate is very discrete, ‘The Phallocrypt.’

Perhaps, like me, it was customary at your school to swim naked. It sounds improbable now but that was the custom in many public schools in Britain. Not, I believe in girls’ schools but I wouldn’t know about that; though it is pleasing to imagine a whole class of the older girls doing so. Very pleasing!

Naked swimming classes are an easy custom to bring back with the help of the Amulet; it is an easy matter to hire a private swimming pool for an evening and arrange for the young women and men to come along, perhaps imagining it is some sort of fancy dress party with them dressing as schoolgirls and boys. Into the changing rooms and donning black regulation one piece swimsuits for the girls... but not the boys. Imagine the squeals, the giggles, the pointing from the modestly clad girls, all believing themselves virgins and thinking they have never seen a naked man before, when they come out into the pool area and see the boys all lined up in their birthday suits. The shock of the boys at finding themselves naked with members of the opposite sex, of their own age and in force, hands trying to hide penises. Imagine it!

Why this tradition? Was it the problem with fibres from woollen swimming costumes clogging the filters, was it an idea that men had less to hide, was it thought more natural like Ancient Greek athletes, was it that simply women and girls did not swim at all at one time, was it simply all boys together so why bother to cover up?

It might be that I have introduced into the mix the women PE teacher; do I have her in swimming costume or tweed skirted suit with hair severely tied back and a strong Scottish burr? Not old either way, perhaps in her late thirties. You can imagine her telling the girls not to be ‘silly’ haven’t they seen a naked man before and the boys likewise, what have they got to worry about in their natural state, girls have bottoms too and as for the boy’s ‘little things,’ well, hardly worth a mention. That, though, is not the thought of the girls; size will already have been remarked upon.

The boys are sent in first to swim, the girls watch and admire and make comments which seems to annoy the teacher: then it is the girls turn, the boys stand dripping and watch, moaning that they are nude whilst the girls are not, but they watch. The girls come out from the pool and are cheeky with the boys; one girl even pats a boy’s naked behind.

The teacher is cross, she has seen, and tells the girl to swop costume with the boy. Imagine the girl’s chagrin and the boys’ delight; the other girls not supportive but find it all a great giggle. The boys all stare as the teacher insists on the punishment, the girl is truculent but the teacher, all at once, pulls at the black straps so the costume comes down to her waist and young breasts spring free. The boys’ eyes are wide!

But then down comes the suit the whole way to pool around the girl’s ankles but no one is looking at that: rather at her fine dark bush and rounded bottom. One of the girls nudges a friend because there is a stirring in the male camp, a slight lengthening and thickening of penises. The wet black suit is handed to the boy and he pulls it on looking like some Edwardian swimmer with his chest all hidden. The boy is acutely conscious of what previously has been in the suit, that his penis is exactly where the girl’s dark bush had been, a sprouting of hair he can barely keep his eyes off just feet away from him; and that thought has an effect; but luckily he is the only boy concealed in a suit; this does not hide the outline of an erection, an unusual moulding of the black material—the outline is clear. The teacher notices, the side of her mouth falls in disapproval. She evidently knows about boys.

The girl says ‘it’s not fair,’ but the teacher says if there is any more trouble everyone will swop. You could see that coming, I am sure, but it’s not because a girl does something to annoy the teacher but rather a boy that results in the exchange. He is foolish and thinks too much about the naked girl and there he is, the only one of the naked boys, sporting a ‘hard-on.’ Yes, standing there with his cock at attention for everyone to see, girls, boys and teachers. To be fair to him, it’s a big one, not something he really needs to hide at all, and the girls are amazed but the teacher is furious. She swats it with her cane but that has no effect at all, it just sways a little. She is not having ‘those things’ pointing rudely up at the ceiling, she says, insists they are covered and as the boys do not have costumes tells the girls to give them theirs to cover ‘their rudeness.’ The girls are shocked: the boys delighted. One by one swimsuits start to be lowered, young breasts of all sizes and shapes revealed, even the flatter chested are so very different from the boys with their developed areolae, all a pleasure to the boys.

Not surprisingly, and how did the teacher forget this, the effect is quite the opposite to what the teacher intended. Instead of boys modestly dressed in black swimsuits, there is a pool side of half naked girls struggling to pull wet costumes down themselves and a matching set of naked boys all now sporting erections. It is a sight to behold and within my own more generous swimming trunks I feel a natural reaction of my own.

How should the evening progress? It would seem a shame to cover anyone up in a swimming costume now. It must be clear that it will end in a communal rut, a mass of wet bodies engaged in intercourse—on the side of the swimming pool, in the water, in the showers. Girls and boys everywhere intertwined, energetically fucking; and will the lady teacher be excused? Far from it, the sight will overcome her too and as for me, well I shall enjoy many of the young ladies and reap the reward of my reintroduction of the old custom of naked swimming.

Or does the evening take a different turn and the teacher sends the whole class out for a run around the neighbouring playing field, to cool down first, not that this will stop the eventual rut. I have the Amulet after all. Imagine that, the young people sent out to run. Is if a fine midsummer’s evening for them to pound around the track, or a cold day with the rain sheeting down or even snow on the ground. Imagine that, the sight of the young people completely naked running around the track, breasts and penises bouncing in the falling snow! They return and the teacher is pleased to see the cold has shrunk the boys’ penises, drawn their balls tight to their bodies; she makes them stand cold and wet by the pool side whilst the girls slip into the warm water and swim.

Perhaps there is rebellion, the boys taking hold of the teacher. With so many there is nothing she can do as her tweed is removed by many hands and her own nakedness revealed. Do the girl’s help? I think not.

Perhaps I, the male teacher, am judged guilty with her and I have the girls removing my trunks, the idea is not unpleasing and I have the Amulet after all, they are amused to find my erection, happy to touch it, waggle it, make it bounce. And you can imagine the female teacher is brought to me and made to kneel, protestations from us both as my penis stands impressively before her face. She is ordered to suck; a young female hand lowers and directs the shiny head between her lips. There is a cheer as she begins and the young people too begin to do what comes naturally; there are mouths to penises and penises to vaginas, tongues between legs—the young people make their choices. Perhaps one young man indulges in the reality of a bedtime fantasy and engages the female teacher from the rear, perhaps they all take it in turns, perhaps in class alphabetical order, each separating from his chosen girl to take his place for a few strokes. A pleasant time for all; can you not imagine the female teacher succumbing to the pleasant fucking of so many young men – her orgasms many and strong?

Were you caned at school? Were you mischievous or worse, did you have to write endless lines, sit through tedious detentions whilst you could have been out playing, or worse had to bend over? I am not sure the loss of corporal punishment has made for the better child. I would accept there was sometimes far too much use of the strap but it is important for the growing child to know bounds and for there to be effective and clear sanctions. I am not convinced by the modern world.

But enough of my thoughts on social mores: what of the perversion of such a custom, such a traditional punishment, into the erotic—the spanking and caning of naughty schoolgirls. That is not to say the same cannot be done with the naughty schoolboy if that is your preference. The Amulet makes it easy for the young man or woman to imagine his or herself still at school and waiting outside your or my study, it will do no good to stuff a copy of the Beano, Dandy or Beazer down the trousers or into knickers as, you can imagine, a bareness of the bottom is likely. For the boy the dropping of shorts and pants to the floor, the bottom cheeks exposed and the embarrassment of the penis and balls hanging before you: for the girl the pleasurable raising of the pleated skirt, is it dark blue or, perhaps, a bottle green, the matching knickers in thick material revealed; only then to be gently lowered to display the round fullness and smooth skin of the young girl’s bottom.

Is the recalcitrant young man placed across the knee, penis hanging in space—will it erect as the spanking starts? Or is the young person bent over the desk, legs wide apart to reveal a great deal – yes, the young wispy curls around the girl’s sex or the young man’s sexual organs hanging vulnerably between his legs?

Do you choose the hand, ruler or cane? Are you actually quite gentle or do you like to see the wheals rise? Do you like to inflict real pain, see the tears flow, hear the begging for the chastisement to stop—hear that the young person will do anything... yes anything for you to stop.

I am not one for the serious thrashing myself but I do like to see the bottom jump!

Perhaps more than one young person needs punishment. Are they of the same or different sex? Embarrassment either way—but the more so if different. Perhaps they have been naughty together, whether of different sex or not, perhaps they are made to confess their wrongdoing; perhaps made to demonstrate to you or me, as audience, what they were doing—after punishment of course. Imagine that: two totally embarrassed young girls with reddened cheeks forced to recreate their tryst on your desk, their hands or is it tongues stirring; or the girl and boy wide eyed as they remove their clothes in front of you or me, embarrassed in their nudity and then to repeat the kissing, sucking and actual intercourse whilst sternly watched.

The great embarrassment as the penis is erected, the nipples hardened and the wetness encouraged. Once more the penis pushes and parts the girl’s lips but not now hidden in some private shady nook or unused room; now it is all in the bright observant light of the master or mistresses’ study. The further embarrassment of standing afterwards with the incriminatory semen dribbling from the spent cock or silently dripping from the girl onto the floor; a stern lecture and then both required to bend again for a further smacking or caning.

Of course so much more can be made of the school scenario. An enjoyable perversion of normality. Perhaps instead of performing in a master’s study they are required to attend a biology class on human sexual reproduction, an imaginary one of course, as a demonstration. Plentiful embarrassment to be had there!

But let me move on to other customs and traditions. Did you realise that because of the restriction to one child per couple there is a shortage of girls of a marriageable age in China? It seems to me that polyandry is an elegant solution or at least the generous sharing of the wife by the fortunate husband with his less lucky friends. Imagine that, inviting your friends around for a drink and a fuck! Do you invite a single friend or a whole group? Such a generous sharing. Little risk to the wife of all of them coming too soon! For the polyandrous do the husbands take it in turn to sleep with the wife or is it a large bed and the wife turns first to the left and then the right or does she swop freely during the bout? Does she suck one whilst the other fucks and then turns about? I have not yet travelled so far to find out. Do they practice a double penetration of the vagina? Is it not done to fuck separately but rather together, one from the front and one from the back; a tight squeeze but no doubt perfectly possible with practice. Perhaps I shall write a further paper on the subject.

Do you not find pregnant girls sexy? Bellies swollen with child, the result of intercourse; the knowledge that some man has had to inseminate them—such a difficult job! The easiest position for intercourse being to approach from behind due to the swelling. And what fun the breasts swollen with milk. What a delight when the infant bloated and happy, content with feed, is put into its cot or cradle if there is milk left over for others. The young girl will still in need of emptying and it is far better, by far, if instead of manually expressing or (amusingly) using electric pumping to express, a pair of adult lips suck and enjoy.

What custom, you might ask, has this led me to? Well whilst I have partaken, on many occasions, I like to see the young mothers helping each other out—a gentle and quaint custom of my neighbourhood—at least sometimes and between some young women. Oh yes, it has more than the hint of the lesbian about it but what man does not like to see two women together. Ah well, yes I see, but that is not my interest however amusing the Ring of Ouroborus game is when played with the full Rugby team; if you like that sort of thing!

I say more than a hint of the lesbian, but can you imagine me pleasantly sitting in a kitchen with three of these young mothers drinking coffee as they suckle their young offspring, happily chatting with their blouses open and charmingly full breasts openly displayed. Pleasant to sit there, sip the coffee and listen to their chatter, whilst admiring the variety in breasts, waiting patiently for the young charges to slip into slumber, and fall from the teat. One by one they are put down and then it is just the young mothers and me; young mothers still with milk to give; young mothers perhaps still uncomfortable with swollen breasts. No, no it is not for me to ask for a glass, though the idea of the young ladies all seeking to express and fill is amusing, no I imagine, and if I imagine the Amulet lets me have, these young mothers offering to help each other; pretty girls flicking their long hair to the side as they bend their heads to a friend’s bosom and suck: a tradition of long custom—or so they think.

A delightful and tender tableau of these girls helping their friends; tenderly stroking hair as their partner seeks to ease their discomfort and empty their breasts. After a time they will again become aware of me, not a party to their intimacy and, in the nature of kind young mothers, will not wish to see me left out and will invite me to join and take a vacant teat; an understanding of the desire of the male. How pleasant to knead and feel the thin sprays of milk in the mouth. It is soothing and refreshing for all to suckle, drink and be sucked. It is likely one of the girls will comment upon this, her pretty mouth betraying her drinking by a hint of white around the lips; lips that are perhaps lipsticked in the way these young girls do. Perhaps she suggests I am lucky not to have to contend with the ache of swollen breasts, the sometimes desperate need to empty, underclothes made damp by the leakage of milk. Perhaps a giggle from the rest and a reminder that men have a different kind of swelling, a sometimes uncomfortable swelling also, sometimes with a desperate need to empty, a not totally dissimilar seepage and a different kind of milk.

It is obvious through my clothing that I too am as swollen as they have been and the offer, no, several offers are made; indeed there is a clamour for me to join them; I open my shirt and there is laughter—that is not what is meant. But it is not long before I find myself naked with these young mothers and first one, then another, attempts to express me. How pleasant to have so much young female assistance, how pleasant to come whilst sucking on a milky squirting teat; how pleasant for the lucky young mother to have the contrast to the sweet thin milk in my salty and thick ejaculate filling her mouth. Perhaps she will offer to share the taste with her friends; my semen passed mouth to mouth around the table. A customary mark of friendship amongst close female friends in that community.

There may, of course, be intercourse later; it does not take much for me to wish to see these young girls romping naked on a bed sucking a different kind of wetness from between each other’s legs and permitting me to join, very literally join to them, when I am ready, one after another. And what if a husband comes home unexpectedly? Well the power of the Amulet makes this not a difficulty—the girls will welcome a fresh cock to play with and drink.

Have I given you a flavour, a taste of my predilection for exotic and improbably sexual customs; an obsession fuelled by the power of the Amulet and its ability to let me influence, to such a wonderful degree, the minds of others and to pervert tradition and normality. Has the Amulet turned me a little mad, a little obsessive, a little strange—is that its secret? It is a question I ask myself on occasion but perhaps, I reason, my worry is mere post-coital tristesse, nothing more—Omne animal post coitum triste praeter gallum mulieremque.