The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Okay, why not?

I pulled off my top and continued typing.

“Now your pants. Take them off too.”

My husband was still asleep in the next room, and to tell the truth, I was a little excited. I’d heard a lot about cybersex, but hadn’t expected it to be quite so... well, sexy.

“What kind of underwear are you wearing?”

I answered. Black, polyester, matching bra and panties.

“Take them off.”

My heart pumping, I complied. The chair was cold and shocking against my naked flesh, and I was a little surprised at myself. What if my husband walked in? What came next? I was starting to come close to breaking my vows of faithfulness, and I had no intention of doing so. I made my decision: This was fun and all, but it was time for me to stop. I told him so, firmly but politely, and picked up my clothing to start putting them back on. I started saying goodnight to everyone else on the newsgroup.

“No, leave them off and don’t leave the computer. I’m not done with you yet.”

I couldn’t believe it! Whoever this was, they would treat me with some respect. I set down my clothes before dressing in them, and leaned in to give him a piece of my mind. I must say I was fairly insulting to him.

“Pinch your nipples, hard. Then tell me about the last time someone fucked you.”

Ouch! Right after I did it, I regretted it. I pinched them hard, and twisted them, sending an electric shudder through my body. Then I told him that, though it was none of his damn business, my husband and I had just enjoyed a quiet evening together that past weekend. I figured mentioning my husband should get him to stop.

“Does your husband ever fuck you up the ass? What are his shortcomings in bed?”

I was just eager to shut him up, so I told him. Yes, we’ve had anal sex before. Only once in a while, when we’re in a very kink mood, and I’m feeling very generous. As far as his shortcomings, well, I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t even really want to think about them—or I’d feel guilty not mentioning them to my husband. But, I told him anyway, about how quickly my husband orgasms sometimes, and how he often lost interest shortly afterward. Also, I mentioned that I felt awkward when he asked me to masturbate for him, but I did it anyway.

“You slut. Would you masturbate for me, too, if I asked?”

I told him to fuck off.

“Alright, that’s it, babe. Frig yourself, right now. Tell me what you’re doing to yourself.”

I didn’t want to do it, but I did. I spread my legs and licked my finger, and began rubbing my clitoral hood back and forth, slowly. I felt really, really aroused, and my vulva was velvety with my intense arousal. Annoyed, I told him everything, typing clumsily with my left hand.

“Stick a finger up your cunt. Rub your G-spot and tell me about your first fuck.”

It wasn’t a fuck, we made love, I typed angrily. Then I felt myself do it—I pushed my middle finger into my vagina—a little roughly, and began to rub it in and out, pressing against my G-spot. I let out a gasp, and slowly typed the story of Bobby and the prom, when I told him I loved him and he asked me if we could make love, and I said yes, and, stars in my eyes, I gave him my virginity in the back of his van. Just thinking about Bobby’s touch made me more aroused, embarassingly so. I hoped that this guy on the internet wouldn’t find out... and then I told him that the story was making me aroused and that I was about to orgasm.

“Don’t orgasm until I give you permission, you slut. Shouldn’t you be thinking only about your husband?”

My pace quickened, and I grew really, really urgent, but I just couldn’t come without his permission. I told him that I didn’t appreciate his attitude and that I’d just finish getting myself off and then go to sleep if it was just the same to him. I hoped he’d let me.

“No way, bitch—you’ve been cold with me tonight. I’m gunna teach you some respect. Bend over the desk and fuck yourself up the ass. Tell me what you look like while you do. Type with your tongue. Don’t stop until you finish your description, and make sure the description turns me on as much as possible while still being true.”

I really wanted to stop. I was starting to get scared as I leaned over the desk and, still fingerfucking myself near orgasm, pushed my left middle finger into my anus. I was a little bit wet from masturbating, but it was still not very comfortable. I kept at it, feeling a little bit faint, as my tongue clicked out the letters at an incredibly slow and inaccurate meter. I told him I was a stunning twenty-eight year old woman, with long flowing red hair, a trim athletic figure made for intense and energetic fucking, medium sized, pert breasts with large, dark nipples, a tiny, shapely ass and long, smooth tan legs. I told him my pussy was covered lightly with silky copper pubic hair, and was currently trickling with my lust. By the time I was finished typing, I was feeling very sore and exhausted, but still incredibly horny.

“Tell me you want my cock. Tell me you fingerfuck yourself every night imagining me bending your slut ass over the hood of your car. Beg me to come fuck you in person. Then give me your real phone number and address. You can take your finger out of your pussy to type, but keep on assfucking yourself.”

I begged. I pleaded. I told him what he wanted to hear. I told him my phone number and address, a deep weight of fear settling into my gut as I told him all this—he was going to come after me in person, now that he could.

“Okay, good. Stop touching yourself.”

I stopped, collapsed against the chair, and rubbed my sore shoulders. I didn’t dare type anything—I just hoped he was done.

“Okay, if you insist. I’ll be showing up at your house next Thursday. During the day. Wear sexy underwear. In the meantime, I want you to stay faithful to me. Don’t have sex with your husband, no matter what, but wear sexy clothes around him a lot and do other things you know turn him on. Don’t kiss him. Don’t masturbate. But do think about sex—constantly. With a passionate longing. Oh, and don’t let anyone find out about this conversation. And be there when I show up.”

I was paralyzed with fear. His wish was my command. I told him I would do everything I said, and begged him to leave me alone, please, I was just a normal woman and didn’t deserve this.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ll spank you for that dumbass comment. Now, after I get off the line, turn off your computer and lock yourself outside naked. Don’t cover ourself up or hide, and don’t ring the doorbell until you’ve counted to a hundred. See you in a week, babydoll.”

He disconnected. I turned off the computer and walked out the door, stark naked. Goosebumps formed all over my skin and a jogger stopped and gawked as he went by. He got a good view of my whole body before I finally rang the doorbell, dreading all the excuses I’d have to start making over the week as I waited with fear and arousal for the week to end...