The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

CAITLYN’S 3

Ronny’s hand still hurt. He had run out the back door of his home, steps before his father’s entry, with his mom and sister close behind. If he was right, they were both not only trying to win over his father to their side, if there were sides, but also acting out some misspoken phrase, God knows what. This wasn’t where Ronny wanted to be; his neck ached from Ken’s crushing arm lock, his back was cut from Darla’s belt-whip, and running to her house had made it throb fiercely. He wanted to be at his girlfriend’s house, but Alyssa lived another two miles away, on the hillside, where all the rich people in town resided. Darla lived in the small housing community across from his on Route 2- they even shared the same bus stop for school. “Alyssa has probably never rode a school bus” mused Ron. She drove her brand new Miata when she cheered for the away games, and to school.

Ten seconds after knocking on the small white door, movement in the peephole flickered the light shining through it, betraying the watcher. The door seal cracked, and Darla’s small, hyperactive mother stood there. She wore a full length, cream colored apron, with pictures of cows reading, lecturing, performing ballet, and so on. Her short red hair was clearly a fabricated color, but for her age, she was cute, vibrant, and happy with herself. She was the kind of person who others hung around, to recharge their own batteries. Standing in front of Ronny however, she could have been mistaken for his daughter at a distance, due to her height.

“Wow, no wonder Darla’s so pretty!” Ron flattered.

“Why Ronny you stop that! Flirting with me will get me beaten in public by Wayne!” She giggled and snapped her hand towel at him, missing his face by an inch. She did not move from the door however.

“Um, is Dar here? I needed to talk to her.”

Darla’s mom moved aside, throwing her hands in the air. She spun on her short heel, turning back into the kitchen.

“My word Ronny, that job of hers at the mall is just horrible. The owner is down there right now, and the police too! I guess her manager went crazy or some thing.”

“Or something,,” the lanky boy dragged out. He stuck his hands in his jean pockets. He was suddenly glad he had grabbed a new shirt- a button up, light cotton shirt too short to tuck in, and of a natural cream color, with no artificial colors. Alyssa had bought it two days ago for him, just after things started seeming odd. Parents like guys with clean shirts. He was sure she had noticed, in the brief space between the door squeaking open, and the flipping of her dark red dish towel. The energetic woman bounced from one cabinet to another, grabbing spices, a peeler, a garlic clove, and the milk from the refrigerator.

“Well she will be late for dinner. Care to join us? It’s a new south Indian recipe I’ve been wanting to try.” Ronny’s stomach mumbled quietly to itself.

“No, I really need to get over to my, to Alyssa’s house anyways.”

“Hm. Well you have a good time anyways, and you know you are always welcome here, okay?” She turned quickly, forgetting the garlic bulb in her hand, and hugged the tall young boy. She liked him, thought him intelligent and caring, and a decent match for her daughter. In a reflex, Ronny put his hands on the sides of her shoulders with a light tap.

A warm hum, a light ticklish vibration where palms met shoulders, went unnoticed to Darla’s mother, and almost unnoticed to Ronny.

Almost.

He pulled his hands back, and felt the blood leaving his face and extremities. The bubbly, though slightly nosey housewife looked up quizzically, then decided not to ask if he was alright. She decided that in his family, they probably just didn’t hug enough.

The front door opened and from around the kitchen entrance corner came a small bouquet of carnations, yellow and white, wrapped in green paper. A man’s hand gripped it and trailed around the kitchen corner. A small man, bald, in his forties, craned his head around the wall with a great beaming grin. He wore a nice blue suit, not expensive but it fit well. The equally tall woman in the white slacks and blouse, and apron, slapped her towel onto the counter top, beside the dishwasher.

“My word! Two suitors in one day! What is this all about?” Darla’s father brushed by Ronny, patting his arm and winking at him. Ron sensed a possible electric shock, but it was so light, it could have also been the patting of the playful man’s hand. Darla’s dad spoke to Ronny.

“ I still sweep ‘em off their feet, huh?” He slid up to his wife of twenty two years, sliding his arm around her waist, planting a loud wet kiss on her lips.

“Well! Just for that, you get to eat dinner. Go clean up! You too hon, if you want.” She turned to stir her large black pot on the stove top. Something bubbled and steamed from within. Her husband smiled at the boy, a common visitor of Darla for several years.

“So, too blind to date my daughter, you’re going after the ‘house mama’, huh?” He winked at Ron and crunched a small hot pepper like a pickle. Ronny’s eyebrows rose upward of their own accord. He was on the verge of almost understanding something he wasn’t sure he heard. The momentary silence was broken by Darla’s mom.

“I just told him if you caught me here with such a nice young man, you’d give me a beating in the town square.” Wayne laughed, massaging her shoulders as she stirred the steaming pot.

“What do you think Ronny? Should I tie her up? Beat her with wet tea bags? Coat her in motor oil?” Ronny laughed simultaneously with the middle aged housewife. The cook kept cooking, not dignifying her husband’s joke with a response. After so many years, he was still able to seem fresh and new. She smiled again, this time from the inside out, not the outside in.

“I’d like to see that!” Ronny joined in.

“What brings you by, young man? Where’s daughter number three at?” He referred to Darla, third of six girls. He took his hands from his wife long enough to loosen his tie.

“Well mister Miller, there’s been some weird things going on, like at school, and well at the mall.” Ronny looked at his own shoes, and felt depressed suddenly, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Go on dear,” cooed Mrs. Miller, in her usual caring way. The confused boy leaned against the dishwasher, put his hands in his pockets, and studied his shoes even harder.

“Well, see, a week ago, remember I was telling you about Alyssa taking me back? Well then there was this thing at school, I got beat up by the Posse, and then well the thing at Caitlyn’s store today.”

“Mmmm.” Darla’s mom murmured concern.

“Yeah, so then I get home, and my sister is treated like a goddess, she isn’t one right but I mean she got treated by them like she really was one!”

“Like a goddess you say. How did they do that?” Mr. Miller seemed genuinely interested.

“Just, you know, bowing and stuff, you know.” The High School senior shrugged.

“Don’t worry”, Darla’s dad said calmly, a strange tapping noise coming from his direction, “We’ve seen some weird things from teenage girls, haven’t we honey?”

“Mm Hmmph!” she murmured her agreement. More tapping came from their direction.

Ronny looked up at the married couple. The small red haired woman had her berry colored dish towel in her mouth and her arms tied together behind her back with her husband’s blue and gold shiny tie. She was kneeling, face an inch from the stove, her clothes in a bundle under her bony knees. Her husband was swinging a small wet tea bag quickly, tapping it against the bound woman’s smooth neckline and shoulders. Wet spots steamed. Neither parent seemed to think anything of their actions, or Ronny’s presence. Darla’s dad looked up innocently.

“Say could you get me a can of motor oil from the garage?” Mrs. Miller turned to face Ronny, and nodded up and down frantically, dishcloth bobbing from her small mouth.

“Um”, Ron tried to think their way out of their predicament, but was too stunned to think clearly. His mind was still stuck trying to explain to the parents of his best friend the strange incidents of the recent past, but his eyes were glued on the smooth untanned skin of Mrs. Miller’s backside, and he couldn’t get them to blink, let alone to look away.

“You probably want something better for you, like cooking oil, right?” The couple glanced at each other, then both faced Ron and nodded. The wife pressed her nose and nipples to the oven door, the husband went back to tea bag flogging, while Ronny handed him the cooking oil beside the stove. Ron winced, and took a quick breath.

“You probably wanted me to borrow your car tonight, huh?” Ron felt ashamed, and glanced at the linoleum tile again. He didn’t want to walk all that way to Alyssa’s, but felt bad about using this new curse to trick the Millers.

“Well, you know I did, Ronny my boy! Keys are on the hook there on the wall. There, there,, that does it, doesn’t it dear?”

“Mm Hmmph!” Mr. Miller had the bottle turned up over Mrs. Miller’s head, and had completely soaked her hair, shoulders and breasts in the thin, yellowy fluid. Ronny turned without looking, and snatched up the keys from the key holder, a wooden plaque with small brass hooks, carved into the word YOSEMITE. Ronny walked quickly toward the door, his large untied Nike shoes silent on the entrance carpet.

“You two have fun ok?” Ron tried to be polite.

“Mm Hmmph!” mumbled the spaghetti cooker, as her husband kneaded the canola oil into her warm skin.

“You have a great time tonight, and could you pick up Darla at ten tonight?”

“Sure, mister Miller. Bye.”

“Okay! Now, do we still have that vibrating cushion dear?”

“Mm Hmmph!”

The guards at Alyssa’s estate house had never opened the main gate for Ronny, even when their relationship had been good, before Homecoming. Some would sneer from behind their mirrored sunglasses, others wouldn’t even make eye contact. Some would even be waving him to leave the driveway before they could see his 1976 Pacer through the woods that lined the entrance. Driving up with a Cadillac STS however, seemed to make a difference. The gate was open at his approach and the guard didn’t even crane his head out of the small shack. At the door of her home, he parked and straightened his shirt, pulled his pants up and buckled his belt tightly. A thought to his hair, and he was ready. There was a good chance her father or mother would meet him in the entranceway, after the doorman let him in. They’d talk. They were always polite, but what they said to your face never had any bearing to their true thoughts.

“Be polite, ask her if she might know what started all this, and if she really, really likes me, not just because of crazy-mad, shocking touch”, he rehearsed. The steps up to the door were so clean the marble shined. Doors were meant to let people in and out, and occasionally bar people entry. Ronny had no idea why anyone would need double doors made of oak and brass, over eight feet tall. It occurred to him, in a second, in a flash, that people with their common sense that far out of alignment, he wasn’t really interested in hanging with.

“Master Hanson, please come in, she has asked to have me escort you to her bedroom, where she is studying with a friend.” The older man was meant to be distinguished, and in his tuxedo, he did seem refined, but he was in his sixties, a little frail looking, and seemed tired. Ronny turned toward the shiny white stairs that led up to the second floor.

“Um, usually her parents grill me, I mean, they talk to me first.”

“Yes Sir, but Alyssa has asked them to show you kinder attentions. Shall I show you upstairs then, Sir?” The old man shut the huge doors, locking them. Ron began up the staircase.

“Knock yourself out dude.” Ronny took another step, and a loud thump on the door jolted his head around to investigate.

The door man was reverberating, shaking from having slammed his head and body against the stout door with all his might. Ronny gasped, and watched as the man dropped to his knees, holding his forehead with both hands. Before The bewildered youth could take a step however, the well dressed butler had collapsed unconscious on the white and gold tile floor.

Ron quickly stepped up the stairs, two at a time. Dizziness weakened Ron’s knees. At the top, he held his breath and glanced down over the smooth white railing, to see the old man-turned floor mat was stirring slowly.

“Whew”, Ron sighed, taking the four steps to Alyssa’s door. The carved walnut door swung slowly open, revealing the large, carpeted main room. Alyssa’s bedroom wasn’t one room, but three. The main room was a study, with large table, sofas and recliner, an enormous entertainment system that covered an entire wall, and bookshelves. The walls were mauve, the carpet was the color of a merlot. At the back of the study was sliding glass doors out onto her terrace. To the left was the archway into her private bath. The right door went into her chamber, her actual bed room. Nobody in the real world lived like this, and Ronny originally thought of this as a dream come true, but that flash returned, a sudden realization that indeed nobody grounded in reality lived this way, and anyone that did, may not be worth his time.

Tanner James was the mayor’s son. His wealth, his “better than you” upbringing, and his good looks were all reasons he might be here in Alyssa’s room, but studying was not one. He and Alyssa were together on the large black sofa, while on the television, Vin Diesel was flexing arms and abs that nearly matched Tanner’s. They were lying down, their heads toward the quietly approaching Ronny, with Tanner’s bare back against the sofa, and Alyssa’s bare back against his blonde chest hair. His large left arm was tracing idle patterns with his fingers, from her neckline and throat, over her excitedly taut breasts, and down her cheerleader abs. His fingers slid unrestrained south of her navel, past where her jeans had become undone, to where the zipper stopped, just past the band of her black silk panties. Ronny was close enough to hit Tanner in the head, but the hardest he could hit him was only enough to get him noticed, and quite likely killed.

“Baby, you’re all better now right?” Tanner whispered loudly. “No more dove talk about that creepy theater geek, right?” Tanner’s hand gripped Ron’s supposed girlfriend’s right breast, encompassing it and squeezing it gently. Alyssa’s tummy spasmed and she gasped.

“Mmm, of course Tan, why, I don’t know what I was thinking. You know what I was actually thinking of doing with that dork if he came by?” She turned her head slightly over her left shoulder, twisting a bit and causing Ronny to duck down nearly to the height of the overstuffed sofa arm. Tanner’s head dipped, his lips meeting hers. His right hand from under her neck reached around and combed Alyssa’s bangs from her eyes. Her left hand reached back to squeeze Tanner’s football thighs.

“What baby?” Tanner’s large fingers spanned her entire tummy, his pinky touching the top of her silk under things. He wiggled it under the band, making a slow sweeping motion. Alyssa’s left hand leapt on top of his roaming fingers.

“What were you thinking of doing?” His voice had a smile inside it that suffocated Ronny’s spirit and crushed his heart. How long had she been secretly calling him a dork to guys at school? Had she been sleeping with Tanner while he was feeling lucky just to get to buy her dinner? How many others had she slept with while calling herself his girlfriend and ever only kissing him twice?

“Um,, I actually,” She stammered. His left hand, large enough to wrap around a football, was now entirely encased in black silk. He slid his fingers down Alyssa’s left thigh, her hand squeezing down on her jeans, slowing his movements. Ronny perked his ears up, but sat awed and disenchanted by Alyssa and Tanner’s groping. It was as if he had been given a Christmas present that untold others had opened already, and found after opening it that the box was full of old dog turds from the back yard, the true gift having never really been given to him at all.

“Yes baby, my luscious one, tell me,,” he coaxed in a whisper. His hand had slid back center, his fingers curling along her inner thigh. She bit her lip as all his fingers cupped her sex, and she held her breath as he moved his hand in a circular motion, pressing against her moist and sensitive skin. Her hand clamped down onto her jeans and panty tightly, but his thick forceful hand continued rolling around. Five seconds later her smaller hand began making the same circular motions from on top of her clothes. Her hips rolled back and forth with his movements, pressing against his zipper-protected manhood. She gasped as she leaned back against his log.

“I,, going to,, oh God! God,,, going to,” she droned.

Ronny stood with a deep inhalation, ready to shout and scare the two, but his words caught in his throat, and he decided to stand there till he was noticed.

“Going,,, to,,, to,,,” Alyssa’s hips were now rolling forward and back steadily, and she spoke in time to her butt pressing against Tanner’s hard on. Tanner chuckled and with the top of his left hand pushed hard downward, sliding Alyssa’s panties and hip hugger jeans to her mid-thigh before she could even gasp. Her hand’s small fingers entwined his, and she caught his palm in the vice of her hand and her strong tummy muscles. From Ronny’s position he could clearly see the mayor’s son’s fingers curl, reaching inside her and slightly spreading her nether-lips, as his huge thumb wiggled and rubbed her engorged love button. Alyssa’s eyes were closed, and she winced, seemingly in pain. Tanner’s fingers began diving in, then rocking out, from between the legs of Councilman Schmidt’s daughter. His thumb moved up and down and rolled around her clitoris twice the speed of his fingers’ probing. Alyssa’s back stiffened in an arch as her breath stuck in her throat, much like Ronny’s. Ron had dreamed of moments like this with his dream girl, and though he was physically very aroused, he felt a strange calmness come over him. It was as if he knew how the night was going to end, though he had not yet given it a thought.

Alyssa’s hand was now moving in time with Tanner’s, until it drifted, seemingly of its own will, over her own bare hip and landed on top of Tanner’s zipper. Her short fingers tried to grip the present wrapped in denim, and her Revlon-coated nails searched out the small brass key to unlocking it while her hand slid around, due to Tanner’s rolling her hips to and fro. Having the hold he had, he easily rolled Alyssa forward a bit, giving her fingers all the room they needed to unzip his fly and unsnap the top button. She smiled as her hand dove under the elastic waistband and slid down the hot, smooth skin of Tanner’s rod.

“Oh my God, I,,,I,,,” She whispered in a breathy voice. Vin Diesel was glowering on the T.V., with a strong dark chin and glowing eyes.

“Yeah, baby. Tell me. Tell me what you were going to do.” His smirk was sick, and Ronny prayed he would crane his head up and left, to see him there. Ron’s vision became letterbox, just like the movie playing. Tanner’s right hand played with Alyssa’s right nipple, pulling and flicking it lightly. Alyssa’s head began rolling left and right with his motions, as if her resolve had finally been turned off at the nipple switch, and she was riding on the amusement park ride called Tanner.

“Going,,, going baby, going, to,,, to,,, to,,, in time with his stimulations. Her hand had gripped him and as she rolled forward, her hand slid upward, then as she rolled back her hand’s grip softened, flattening on top of the penis at its hairy base. She moaned a giggly pleasure noise Ronny had never heard her, or anyone else, make before. Ron leaned down close to Tanner’s left shoulder.

“Yes baby, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do baby,,” Tanner’s voice was husky as he breathed his lust directly into Alyssa’s left ear. Her eyebrows raised and she seemed like she was about to float toward the ceiling.

Ronny’s right index finger touched Tanner on his left earlobe, and shot a blue flaming spark crackling loudly, lighting the entire room for a moment in tremendously bright, tremendously painful electric glow.