The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

But I Don’t Really Want This, Chapter 27

Nicole woke up before her alarm. 30 minutes before. Her eyes opened and the sight of the strange room and the unpacked boxes disorientated her. She closed her eyes again to shoo that feeling away, there were more important things to worry about right now. She felt between her legs. This was her life now. She rolled over to Will, pressing herself against him, hoping to ‘accidentally’ wake him. He grumbled, but didn’t stir.

Not a problem. Apart from illness or hangover, she couldn’t remember a single occasion where he hadn’t woken up with morning wood. In the old days she might have helped him out. Well, if it had been the weekend, maybe. After that had come the era when she had always helped him out, had always wanted to help him out, and if she got something out of it too? Then all the better.

In the last couple of months a new era of their relationship had dawned. Now she was waking up every morning with her own equivalent version of his condition. Now it wasn’t just a case of getting him off, but ensuring that she got off too. Fortunately today was a work day. He never let her go to work without taking care of her needs first, not after that last time.

She hadn’t been able to focus on work all morning. Eventually she had had to take matters into her own hands. She sent a message to Will explaining the situation and asking for permission, not permission to masturbate, but permission to be allowed to do so quietly. One of the longest standing orders that they had in place was that she was not allowed to suppress sex noises without explicit permission. A few minutes later he had phoned, granting her permission and she had taken a trip to the bathroom. And while she was in the stall she had been remembering the time that Will had fucked her at the sinks, facing the mirror, wearing stripper heels for the first time. “Giant fucking tits”, he had said.

That evening he had agreed that she should always get an orgasm before work if she needed it, so that she could keep her focus.

But that was just the rule for work days. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, on a weekend or holiday he would let her suffer. There was no general rule against her masturbating, but the implication on these occasions was that he would prefer if she wait until he decided that she may cum. And going along with what he wanted was fun.

She did so much love the feelings that obeying his orders produced in her. But she had no choice. She was compelled. But when he did not order her, when he merely implied what was preferred, what might be nice, then she could choose to do it. Could choose to decrease even further the boundaries of her available actions. Could choose to submit herself further.

I want to know his opinions, she had blogged. Though I have free will, knowing which preference he has for a decision I might make, definitely gives me a reason to want to choose his preference. Though he could give me an order, I love that very often I have choices, because then I can feel how amazing it is to do what he prefers, and I can know how much I want him to be in charge of everything. Maybe if he ordered me all the time, I wouldn’t fully appreciate how much I love it.

On these mornings he might take her anally or let her suck him off. Or he might masturbate over her. This in particular always drove her wild with frustration, forced to lie there, allowed to play with her breasts, but not between her legs, looking up at his big powerful frame, his hard cock, his eyes devouring her (devouring me!), streams of warm cum splashing over her, and then—nothing. She would look up at him, eyes pleading, waiting for—hoping for—her turn. And then he would instruct her to clean him off. She would take her time at it, hoping to get him hard again. And then he might hold her away from him and look down at her. Let’s go for breakfast. Or let’s go shopping. Let’s get some fresh air. It stinks of your cunt in here. And she would groan, her hands holding his hips tighter. She would bury her face in his belly or his crotch and then look up one last time. Please? Let’s get cleaned up, he might say. Can I cum later? If you’re good.

She loved this game. What was ‘good’? So far she had not yet failed to achieve this, but she knew it would have been boring to always resort to the same character that had worked the last time. And maybe it would be boring for him too eventually. He was so great at inventing embarrassing things for her to do, she wanted to use her improvisational and acting skills to keep things interesting for him. And it was fun.

Sometimes she chose to focus on her appearance. Highly feminine clothes. Tight. Or revealing. Hair down. Make-up. Jewellery. Heels. Occasionally bending over at the hips to reach something, when she knew she had his attention.

Sometimes she focused on her behaviour. Allowing herself to enjoy the sensations of her own body. Allowing herself to test the limits of what was acceptable interaction with one’s person in a public space. Not lewd behaviour exactly, but highly suggestible. Caressing her sides. Stretching. Feeling the sensations of an expensive napkin against her fingers, face, neck, the tops of her breasts. Allowing herself to softly vocalize ‘Mmmm’ at how pleasurable everything was for her.

Sometimes she focused on physical contact with him. Touching his forearm. Holding onto and squeezing his bicep when standing beside him. Allowing a breast to press against him, not just letting him feel its presence, but letting him feel the pressure as it was squeezed between their bodies. Putting her hand in his back pocket as they walked together and holding on. Allowing herself to gasp in wonder at the sensation of his presence against her hot and needy body.

Sometimes she focused on making him feel good. Letting him know how clever he was. How funny. How interesting. How handsome. How strong. How powerful. How big. How sexy. Always smiling for him. Encouraging him. Not offering objections. Whatever you think is best. Asking him to explain things for her. Things she knew. Telling him how good he was at taking care of her. How safe she felt with him. How secure. Telling him how complete he had made her feel.

But today was a work day. And that meant she was going to get some. She slipped under the covers. Sometimes she used her hand, but today she used her mouth. There was plenty of time. Gently. Letting him slowly wake up and come to with the sensations from her lips and tongue. He indicated that he was ready for her by tugging her shoulders gently towards him. She moved the sheets from him and prepared to straddle him. Whoever woke up first was on top, that was the rule.

Well, it was a flexible rule. If the second to wake up indicated that something else was acceptable, then it was acceptable. And of course, sometimes Will woke first and simply decided what he wanted. Nicole enjoyed that. Knowing that he could choose to break the rule with impunity, and knowing that she could not. The moment of waking up could be a bit disorientating, finding yourself having been flipped over and penetrated. Then being ordered up onto hands and knees before you had a chance to clean the sleep from your eyes or take a sip of water. And she would remember that she wanted to be the second class citizen in this relationship. The junior partner. That being dominated was hot. That letting him do what he wanted, whenever he wanted, felt good and was what she wanted.

And this morning was going to be one of the mornings when the rule was discarded. She rode slowly on top of him for a couple of minutes as he continued to wake up. Once he was fully awake he felt the wetness where their bodies met with his finger.

‘Every morning?’ he asked, holding up his fingers.

‘Yeah’, she moaned, needily, her hands cupping and playing with her breasts.

He watched her massage them. Watched at how they moved between her hands and torso. He reached up and squeezed one, knocking her hand roughly out of the way in the process. She gasped. He put his hand back on her hip, and her hand returned to her chest.

‘You need to cum every morning?’

‘Yeah.’ Why’s he asking this, she thought, slightly irritated with the question. He knows this.

‘You want my help with that? With cumming?’


He raised himself at the waist, propping himself with one arm against the bed behind him. He gently pushed her to the side with the other arm, indicating that she should lie down on the bed. She did so, holding her raised knees, legs spread. He mounted and entered her and held a pseudo-plank position as they made out for a minute, while she moved her hips up and down to encourage him, forward and back, begging him to do the same. He started.

‘If you want me to have sex with you every morning then I’m in charge’.

Yes, she thought. She loved this. Him asserting his dominance over her. Maybe she should adopt some character? She was close. Would there be time? Maybe. Hopefully.

‘If you want me to have sex with you every morning, then you have to be someone that I want to have sex with every morning.’

She groaned.

‘I’m in charge.’


‘I own you.’


‘What I say goes.’

‘Yes, yes, uh-huh, please, yes, I want it.’

‘Say it.’

‘Ughh, what you say goes.’

‘What else?’

‘You own me.’


‘Please have sex, ughh, with meee every morning. I will be whatever,’ gasps, ‘you want.’ Her orgasm hit.

He matched his strokes to her orgasm, and then slowed down and waited. Once she recovered, he started again. Slowly at first. She held his shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath. She enjoyed watching him as he enjoyed the sensations that her body gave him. He came inside her soon afterwards.

* * *

Will was already home when Nicole arrived back that evening. She took of her shoes in the hall and walked barefoot across the wooden floorboards to the kitchen where Will was. As she entered she enjoyed the instant coolness of the expensive slate tiles on her toes. She unhooked her bag from her shoulder, dropped it on the table, walked over to Will, put her arms around him and kissed him. He held her around the waist. She broke the kiss, but held on, and—smiling—said ‘this morning you were extra great. My vision went at the end. I was just seeing...’

‘Stop’, he ordered. They kissed again. ‘I want us to try something new.’


‘Well, I want you to try something new. Just give it a go, we’ll see how it works out.’

‘Try what!’ she asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her pony-tail jumping. ‘I’ll do it!’ she laughed. His ideas always led to great sex. He hadn’t had a bad one yet. Originally she had sometimes been sceptical. Not anymore.

‘Just around me for now, and certainly never in a professional situation,’ he always added that clause just to be safe, ‘when speaking in the past tense, try to use historical present tense. I think it will sound, uh, interesting.’ He winked.

Nicole was an eager student of languages and had consciously learned English as a teenager, rather than unconsciously learning from the people around her as a child. This meant that she knew the names of the tenses and structures and so knew what he was asking for. ‘That sounds difficult, it would be hard to find the way to say some things.’

‘At first, yes, but if you practise at it, you should find that it gets easier. Once you’ve figured out how to convert some general past tense structure to the present, then you should find that it can be applied in a lot of situations.’

‘That’s true,’ she agreed. ‘But it will be difficult for the first few days.’ She paused, then added ‘this doesn’t feel hot though, not like other things we do, or that you ask me to do. Why?’

‘See if you can figure it out. But I got the idea from your Tumblr, and I think it will work and that you will love it.’ He kissed her.

‘OK!’ she kissed him back.

‘Now, what were you saying about this morning?’

‘Oh yeah, uhhhh.’ She paused and looking down as she tried to figure out how to hammer the words that she had already spoken so easily into her own personal Newspeak. ‘This morning you are great...’ she tried. Well that was wrong. ‘Uhhh.’ She realised that there was no direct translation and that she would have to completely rebuild from the ground up the idea that she had being trying to express. She looked back up. He was waiting, patiently. But also amused. A smirk on the edge of his lips. He wasn’t going to offer suggestions. This was her battle.

‘This morning we are having sex,’ she paused. That was a good start. She could use that as the foundation. Maybe play with it a bit more though? She winked at him. Get a load of this. ‘So this morning you’re fucking me so good, uh...’ He laughed and she grinned back. ‘And I cum so hard that I can’t see. My eyes are wide open, but all I see are stars!’ she ended triumphantly.

‘Very nice, I enjoyed that, good work.’ They kissed and ground against each other. ‘Keep talking’.

‘Uh,... OK, right, so, uh,... so you are, uh..., you are telling me that if I want you to want to have sex with me every morning, then uh,..., I must be whatever you want, and uh.’ She paused, ‘OK, wait I can say this again without all the uh, uh, uhs’.

‘No don’t, they’re nice.’


‘Yeah, use them. It actually adds to the effect I’m going for here. Actually maybe you can replace some of them with different sounds like ah, eh, so, or like. Mix it up’.

‘Oh my God! I understand what you’re making me do now.’ She laughed and then rested her forehead against his shoulder. ‘No!’ she said loudly, but playfully, into his shirt, punching her fist hard—but not as hard as she was capable of—against him. When she looked up again she was still laughing. ‘Cool!’ she said loudly, lifting one leg and moving it up and down against him. His hand on that side moved to hold her leg. His other hand moved down to her ass.

‘Go on’, he encouraged her. He let her leg down and released her briefly, in order to undo the front of her skirt. He let it fall to the ground. She kicked it away as his hands rested on her ass cheeks, either side of her thong. He pulled her against him again, kneading the plentiful flesh.

‘So, uh, like, then your saying to me that I should be whatever you decide if we are going to have sex every morning, and I agree and I cum so hard!’, she finished, winking.

‘Keep talking’, he ordered. ‘About anything, doesn’t have to be sexy, let me hear you practise.’

‘Ehhhhhh, OK’, she said, trying to think of something. ‘So, just now I’m getting on the elevator to come up, and like this couple get in too. And they see that I’m pressing the button for this floor and that’s their floor too, and so they introduce themselves. They must have, umm, figured, I mean, uh, OK, so at the weekend, hmmm, they see the removal men and uhh, like they know that there are new neighbours and they see me just now and they know I’m new. And they’re names are Wendy and Miller. Miller? Can you believe that?’

‘I know, I met him this morning in the car park.’

‘That’s not a first name! You Americans!’

‘Course it is, hun. I didn’t meet Wendy yet. What did you think of them?’ he asked, making it clear from the way he asked that he was sceptical of them.

‘They seem very nice,’ she said diplomatically, ‘and they said if we need anything we... No, I mean that they say if we need anything to just call over.’

‘Yeah, that’s what he said to me, he does seem nice.’

‘But...,’ she encouraged him.

‘We were in the car park and he spent 5 minutes just talking about his new car. It was a very nice car, but honestly I don’t care as much as he does and he seemed to expect that I should. I kept up the pretence so as not to start a feud with a neighbour during our first week here, but it was very tedious. Boring.’

‘They both seem to me like the kind of people who are very, very interested in their image,’ she said. ‘Their clothes looked, um, just now their clothes look expensive and not old. And the brand names are prestige and visible. You know? Though it is too soon for me to make that judgement, and I feel bad about it.’

‘Definitely, I got that too with his appearance,’ he agreed. ‘And you’re right, it’s too early to settle on that judgement, so we won’t, yet.’ Technically an order, Nicole knew, but one which was just casual speech. She wondered if he was always aware of the conventional modes of speaking he sometimes used which, when analysed, amounted to an order for her to obey. This was a good order though. One she would have chosen to follow herself without his suggestion.

‘Agreed’, she said. ‘I definitely think that they would like to try being friends with us. They say that they are pleased that they are no longer the only young couple on this floor.’

‘Yeah, I was afraid of that. Tell me they’re not living right next door’.

‘No, far end of the other hall, they told me. Aghh!, I mean, they said, no, I mean, fuck.’ She paused and composed herself before concluding, ‘I know their apartment number.’ He hadn’t ordered her only to use historic present tense for describing the past. He had merely ordered her to try to do so. So lapses weren’t a failure to fulfil the order.

‘OK, that’s enough of them. Good work with the tense, but talking about them was too boring.’ He paused. ‘Wait’, a glint in his eye as he looked down at her, ‘Is Wendy hot?’

‘Ugh, she’s pretty.’ Is he asking me to rate another woman? she wondered.

‘There’s pretty and then there’s beautiful,’ he said, suggesting that she should elaborate.

She hesitated, seeming to be trying to find the right words.

‘OK, so you’re hotter,’ he concluded for her.

‘I’m not used to ranking women,’ she said.

‘You rank women all the time! And I mean ALL the time. I see those images you post on Tumblr, and your comments too. You were ranking women last night.’

That was true, she knew. She hadn’t thought about it like that. That felt different though. ‘I’m not used to ranking real women that I meet in my life.’

‘OK, I understand. But do it now,’ an order. ‘I haven’t met her yet, I don’t know. Rank her for me.’

‘I’m hotter’.

‘Well obviously, but how? More detail.’

‘She is pretty, but my face is, um, I am more beautiful.’

‘What else,’ and here he leaned in and whispered an order to her; ‘play along’.

Understanding dawned in her eyes and she smiled. Time to role-play. ‘She has no bone structure,’ she wildly exaggerated. ‘I’m not sure if she even has cheek bones, she just still looks young, that’s all, though she’s definitely older than me. Maybe your age? And her eyes are small. She does have great hair, full and wavy, but mine is just as good, and longer.’

‘What colour?’ he asked.

‘Blonde of course, but from a bottle, because that’s what wealthy Americans expect,’ she sneered. ‘Americans who have flash cars, designer clothes and no culture,’ she spat and Will laughed and squeezed her waist. ‘Probably her REAL colour doesn’t shine the way mine does,’ she added as she undid her pony tail, rotating her neck to let the waves of lustrous, brown hair spill onto and over her shoulders, reflecting the light coming in through the kitchen window. It dazzled. And here she seemed to get a devious thought. ‘You know what?’

‘What?’ he encouraged her.

‘I bet she’s already going grey!’ she whispered conspiratorially, almost as if she was drunk. ‘She manages a team of people in some company. Insurance or something. I bet the stress is too much for her, and she’ll be old before her time.’

Will chuckled. Nicole was also a manager, not of a team exactly, merely of accounts, but still. ‘What else?’

‘Her boobs are small!’ she said, allowing herself to squeal in evil delight as if back in high school, discussing someone she hates with a best friend. ‘Before my surgery, her boobs were’, she paused. That was against the new rule. ‘I mean, before my surgery, her boobs are bigger, but now mine are.’ She pressed herself against him, letting him feel them push him back. But he stood there solidly, absorbing the force, and she fell laughing into him, giddy from how much more powerful he was. They made out and he moved one hand from her butt up to fondle one breast through her blouse and bra.

‘What else?’

‘And a few years ago, her butt is bigger, but now mine is.’ Nicole had been working on her ass for well over a year and a half now. Will moved the hand on her breast back to her butt. ‘And her lips! This girl has no lips! Before my injections last year, my natural lips are way bigger and juicier than hers.’

‘Is this girl even trying?’ Will asked derisively.

‘I don’t think so, she couldn’t be. So she’s wearing high heels, but they aren’t even that high!’ Technically Nicole hadn’t even been wearing high heels that day either, but denying reality just made her mocking of Wendy even more fun. ‘I bet Miller must be so frustrated with her. It must be so hard for him and his small cock, to be standing beside his nice, mousy, little girlfriend and be talking to a real woman!’

‘How do you know he has a small cock?’

‘If he has a big cock, then he can get a real woman, or he can convince a girl like her to become a real woman for him,’ she explained, ‘like you did with me, oh, I mean, like you are convincing me.’ It was fun to end the sentence that way. To hint that the process wasn’t finished. There had been jokes or sex play that had implied it, such as the last sushi order, but nothing concrete, nothing real.

She sent a slow, smacking air kiss his way—Mwah!—as she reached down between there bodies to play with his erection through his pants. Then she unzipped and unbuttoned his pants and let them fall. With one hand she yanked his underwear down. First one side, then the other. She looked down to watch his erection bounce free, and then she grinned as she looked back up at him.

‘Well, that’s their problem,’ said Will. ‘I like your big ol’ ass,’ he changed the subject. He squeezed for emphasis.

‘I like my huge butt too. I like having my huge butt.’


She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled herself tight against him. He gasped as the head of his cock settled against the cotton of her blouse. She whispered in his ear, ‘I love walking in public and feeling it tight against my trousers or skirt and knowing I have a nice huge butt, and I love knowing that some people are looking at me and thinking, “that woman has a huge butt”’. She laughed quietly, and then they made out some more. ‘And I absolutely love that you like my huge butt.’

‘End of the month is soon, you’ll have to show me your butt-progress.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t think it has gotten, wait, I mean, uh, recently I doubt it is getting bigger.’ That sentence construction really didn’t sound right to her, but it got the meaning across, so she decided not to worry about it. ‘My workout is uh, wait, I mean “like”, like my workout is liiiiike,’ she drew the word out as she attempted to find the next one, ‘is, like, unchanged for a few months and it’s very easy for me now.’

‘Think we should go bigger?’ he said, letting it be known from his tone, his smirk and the twinkle in his eye what his choice would be.

‘Weelllll,’ she drew it out, pretending that she wasn’t anything other than 100% convinced that that was what she wanted. ‘I think my butt is nice and big now, although,’ she started playing with her hair with one hand, letting the locks wrap around her index finger. Then unwrapping and then wrapping again. She started drawing out the syllables of each word further, as if pretending to think hard about what she was saying. Maybe he’d enjoy that? ‘Hmmm, I guess, uhhh, I mean, ehhh, I guess I don’t think it is toooooo big,’ she went on, her voice almost a sing-song. ‘And I doooo want yuh-oo [you] to waaannt to fuck me ev-er-ee [every] morning, sooooo, uhhh...’

Will was biting his lip. He wanted to laugh and he wanted to fuck her, but didn’t want to interrupt her, wanted to see where she would take this. He was dry humping against her blouse and thong. He couldn’t help himself. This was good stuff. He needed to feel the friction.

She continued, ‘if it means, liiike, if yuh-ooo will fuck meee ev-er-eee morning if I have a bigger butt, then, uhhhh, of course that’s what I want,’ she finished, another air kiss. Mwah! She made a show of licking her lips, moistening them up for him.

‘Make that ass bigger’, he ordered, forgetting that it was an order, but it didn’t matter anyway. He pushed her back. ‘Panties off’. She stepped back and sashayed her hips elaborately as she pulled the elasticated material down.

He stepped out of the pants around his ankles and put a hand flat on her chest, pushing her backwards again. She gasped. ‘Elbows on the table,’ he ordered. He was just wearing his socks and shirt now, but that was all she wearing too.

‘Mmm, yes’ she moaned. She turned around and bent over, supporting herself as ordered. She looked over her shoulder. The lube was in the bedroom and he didn’t want to get it. He took the bottle of olive oil and let a small amount dribble into his hand. He put the bottle back down on the counter heavily. The bang it made excited her. So strong! He lubed himself then looked at her. She bit her lip, smiling. He held up one oiled finger for her to see. She wiggled her butt, begging him. He stepped forward, letting his erection rest with a bounce on one of her butt cheeks. He traced her hole with his finger. She closed her eyes enjoying the sensation, anticipating what was to come. He pushed in and she groaned. His finger performed a circular motion, stimulating her.

He withdrew his finger, and wiped it on her blouse. She opened her eyes to look at him. ‘Please!’

‘Face forward.’ A command. She complied. She felt his cock move from its resting place, she felt his hands—one oily, one not—hold each of her cheeks, squeezing them, holding them apart. She felt his head, wet with oil, trace the crack in between down and then further down. And then it was resting against the opening. She whimpered. When? And she felt him start to push, and she felt the pressure build and then build more and she knew it was coming and then suddenly he had entered her. Her eyes crossed under her closed lids and she moaned. He paused there, rotating his hips slowly, gently, but not moving forward yet, waiting for her to be ready for more. Then he moved his hands up under her blouse and held her hips and moved a few inches in. He enjoyed how much louder her moans and groans sounded bouncing off of the wall and floor tiles. Her fingers stretched and clenched. She wished that there was something near by for them to grab and hold tightly. To knead. To tear at. To pull. To squeeze. But there was nothing. If only they had unpacked the rest of the kitchen crap.