The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Second Hand Heart

Chapter 4

I woke up one morning, really stiff. I don’t mean my morning wood, you know, that’s not something I’d talk about to a stranger. And that’s been pretty constant since I hooked up with a crazy hypnotist dominatrix called Metamorpheus on the internet. Hard as a rock, every morning. But try to choke the chicken and I just get horny and frustrated, and that makes me feel helpless, and that makes me hornier, and I still can’t cum without His permission.

So yeah, I got a hardon, but I just tried not to notice it. This morning, the stiffness that took my attention was in my neck. I struggled to lift my head up from where it was lolling back, and the movement sent jolts of pain down my spine, like some freaky electric shock. I yelped a little, but at the same time I was trying to figure out where I was. Not in bed, that’s for sure. My bed was more comfortable, and didn’t have so many vertical bits. On the coffee table in front of me—Oh, coffee table! I fell asleep on the couch, right.

I congratulated myself for the deduction, then my mind drifted off into wondering why it was called a coffee table. I mean, its not like there was ever coffee on it. Maybe I should call it a newspapers-and-wine table. Oh yeah, that’s what my half-asleep mind had spotted. Three empty bottles of wine on the little table, whatever it was called. One decent French one (or at least, one that cost double figures, I figure that must mean its pretty respectable) with fancy scrolled text on the label, to help chicks realise I was a man of distinction, then a couple of bottles of chep plonk from the bargain bin at the supermarket, to get them nice and hammered without costing me too much.

There were two glasses on the table, too, and one had a trace of lipstick on the rim, but my head felt like I’d probably had the lion’s share of the booze. I must be losing my touch. It wasn’t the worst hangover I’d ever had, but then the world was still a little wobbly. It would be worse later; a hangover only ever gets worse when you start to sober up.

“Oh, you’re awake,” came a cheery voice from the other side of the room, and I snapped my head round so quickly that my neck caught fire again.

“Oh my God, are you alright?” a hot young woman was pulling her tshirt on, just too soon for me to catch sight of her cleavage. I’d probably seen it last night, but the problem was I couldn’t remember. I muttered something half-hearted, hoping I hadn’t really just screamed like a girl. “I hope you didn’t pull something last night,” she continued, chivalrously deciding she hadn’t noticed, “I mean, that was pretty wild!”

She walked over and dropped into the seat next to me as I desperately tried to remember what we’d got up to, or even who she was. It wasn’t easy. After what seemed like an age, but was probably about ten seconds, the perfectly curved, smiling lips broke out in giggles and any tension of the moment dissolved.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” she managed to say through the laughter, “You just looked so cute, half asleep like that, I couldn’t help screwing with you a bit.” Finally the giggles died away, and we were both left with comfortable smiles, “Nothing happened. Well, nothing you need to be so worried about forgetting. You drank quite a bit, seemed a bit stressed like there’s something you didn’t want to talk about, and I think I fell asleep across your lap.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, and draped a lazy arm around Clara’s shoulders. Yes, that’s her name! my grateful subconscious cheered. She didn’t object, but leaned a little closer. We didn’t say much, but sat there for more than a few minutes, just being close. It seems crazy, but even when we didn’t do anything, I was enjoying being there with her. Maybe that’s what I’d been missing so many years, I don’t know.

“Look,” I eventually broke the silence, “I really like you, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You’ve got a wife chained up in the closet?” I know she was trying to make it easier, but the joke felt kind of flat. I’d never expected it to be so hard.

“No. No, I mean ...” and I realised I didn’t know how to say it. I ran through the possibilities in my head, and none sounded that good, so I settled on “I’m into some things. Things you won’t like, that might be hard to get out of.” I hoped that was enough of an explanation, without having to give her the full story yet. If I was going to end this thing with Master, I figured I’d need her support.

“Drugs?” she guessed, and I quickly shook my head.

“No! I’m not crazy. I just got into some freaky kind of shit, its more about control than anything, being helpless ... I know its weird but it just gets me so —”

“I can tell,” she cut in, and you woldn’t believe how glad I was just to see that the smile still extended to her eyes. She shifted one delicate hand from my knee to the bulge of my cock, for a second drawing my attention back to how hard it was.

I looked into her eyes for a long moment, not sure I could find the words even if I could speak. Then she continued, gaze never leaving mine, “Look, if that stuff turns you on, I don’t have a problem with that. I’ve been to college, I got a few ‘alternative’ friends,” a slight pause, a change in tone for that word let me know it was a euphamism for something else, “I know there’s a load of stuff people don’t talk about, and just because its different doesn’t make it bad.”

I was ready to thank her from the bottom of my heart, but she wasn’t finished, “I mean, a lot of the stuff I learned in college, I wish they’d not decided to share, and I mean a lot. I mean, my neighbour’s boyfriend wanted to be gagged with her gym socks, of all things, and that’s kind of eww. And I know some people like whips and riding crops and stuff, but the mental image shouldn’t have to includ a fifty year old philosophy professor just because I took a lecture series on ‘truth and beauty’ and he wanted to talk about all the ...” she trailed off for a moment, shook her head as if she could throw those pictures out of her mind, then continued.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is, these things exist. I don’t need to to know everything about everyone. But its you we’re talking about here, and I like you, and I do want to know the things that make you happy. Do you get that? If its a part of you, then I’m not going to ask you to change.”

I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I guess she didn’t really know it all. Even if she could live with me being into freaky fetish shit (and I guess from the slight blush that she had her own interests in that direction—so wow), how could I tell her I was enslaved by a Master? I mean, I couldn’t let her think I’m a fag.

I was nervous to tell her any more details, but it was clear she wanted to know. She said she doesn’t want to pry, but I’m too scared of losing her if I keep it secret. Heck, I’m scared I’ll lose her either way. In the end, I realised I could show her some of those stories off the internet. Some of them were really hot even if control and dominance aren’t really your thing, and if she got freaked out by the mind control stuff, well, I could say its just a fantasy and I’d give it up any day for her. Girls like that kind of self sacrifice, I’d always found.

“I’ve got some stories I found online,” I said, “Maybe it ... might help if ... if you know exactly what I’m ... umm ... what I’m into?” She just nodded, and didn’t seem to notice my nervousness. I knew I must sound pathetic, no confidence at all, and I didn’t even catch her reply, but I assumed it was some agreement. I went over to the computer, and she moved in the direction of my kitchen; and pretty soon I heard the popping whistle of the coffee pot warming up. Had I found the perfect girl, or what?

I brought up the stories archive and glanced over the list, wondering if any of them were suitable for female readers. More sweet and romantic, I guessed, I couldn’t share something like ”Taking Tracy“ or ”Doctor O’Fuck’s Special Medicine“ with even an open-minded girlfriend. But maybe there was something on the list. Then I glanced down, and saw the ‘you got mail’ icon still flashing on my start bar. I should probably check quickly and see if it’s anything important.

* * *

“Well,” a husky voice giggled, warm breath teasing my ear, “Didn’t that go well?” I turned around and saw Master leaning over my shoulder, not the built and stacked black mountain of a man, but the petite celtic beauty who’d teased me on the first night. I nodded, still feeling a bit numb. I felt like I should be crying after the day’s events, but there was an emptyness in my chest, like I couldn’t feel anything at all. I’d had so much hope, thinking maybe there was a girl who’d see who I really was and still come back for more, but now my dreams were shattered.

“Master?” I asked, not even sure what the question really was. She wrapped one arm around my shoulders, fingertips just long enough to stroke my chest.

“Now, you know I won’t treat you like that. I’ll use you for what I want, subject you to the cruellest tortures I can imagine, then I’ll set you free just when you least expect it!” And as much as I know that should be something I’d dread, I felt my cock jerk to attention at Her words. She would use me, that’s what I’d wanted, and I knew without asking that when She came to discard me, it would be so hot I wouldn’t be able to feel sad.

“Why are you ...” I gestured as best I could, trying to indicate the obvious femininity of her body.

“Oh, this?” She blushed demurely and giggled, one hand reaching back to casually unzip her leaf-green velvet dress and let it fall to the floor, “Remember, I can make you feel anything I want, anything. And I can just as easily look however I want, whatever I think will turn you on. So, I thought you deserved a little treat.”

My eyes narrowed for a second, puzzled for a moment why I’d earned a treat, and also anticipating whatever deliciously dreadful games She might have in mind.

“Oh, don’t you remember?” Master swung around to sit in my lap, Her hands gripping my head tightly to press my face into Her breasts. “Well, I guess that’s partly my fault. It’s our anniversary, a month since you started reading My emails, and nearly a week since you’ve been allowed to cum. I think that’s a milestone enough for a little reward.”

And with that, She shifted position ever so slightly, grasped my cock and slipped it inside Her. She was so tight, so hot, I gasped and felt every bit of my attention focus in my cock. She moaned gently in my ear, and I couldn’t have stopped myself thrusting into Her if I’d wanted to. It didn’t last long, three hard thrusts and I exploded, finally granted release after so long in denial.

I exhaled deeply, all the tension that had been building up in my body discharged, and grunted in satisfaction as I sank back into my chair.

“Are you alright?” my head twitched around, drawing my gaze away from the computer screen to see Clara standing in the kitchen doorway with two mugs of steaming java. I’d ... what had just happened?

Feel anything I want the words echoed in my memory, as I tried to recall who and where I was. Yes, that’s right. It had just been a dream, the hot redhead in my lap, Her hands, Her tits, Her pussy feeling so good. None of that had really happened. I’d sat at the computer to find a story to show Clara, just two minutes ago. I’d quickly checked my email. And now, I’d cum in my pants; this was going to take some explaining.