The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I woke to sunlight and song, alone in the bedroom, my chest and stomach tingling. There were two french doors on two walls open to the garden, sunlight and birdsong and a warm soft damp breeze coming through, with a similar door to the bath, splashing sounds and Callie’s singing coming through that:

You are the lover’s rock

The rock that I cling to

You’re the one

The one I swim to in a storm

Like a lover’s rock

“Come join me, Bob!” she yelled. She sounded really happy, and as my body rose without thought and walked towards the bath, nude, I felt her joy surge within me. I had no idea how I’d come to the bedroom, but I felt good, really good, my body tired and sore like I’d gotten quite a workout.

She was in the tub, which was full of bubbles. He held out her hand to me, palm up, and crooked all her fingers together. From across the room I felt her wrist between my legs, sharp nails on my ass, urging my body forward. She leaned forward in the tub, making room behind her.

“Get in, darling,” she whispered. “I want you close,” and then I was in the tub with her in my arms, her back to me, nestling into me. On the ceiling above us were several magnifying mirrors, not easily visible from outside the tub, and the view of her, my hands and arms on her, was spectacular.

“What have you done to me?” I whispered into her ear, not expecting an answer.

“I’m playing with you,” she said, guided one of my hands to her belly, the other to an ample breast, turned into me far enough to share an open-mouthed kiss. “Your turn to play with me.” She turned forward again, relaxing into me as my hands explored her, up and down, cupping, stroking, from her upper legs to her lovely warm wet neck and fragrant soft hair and everything in between. Every caress, every stroke, every kiss and pinch and lick and nip, I felt echoing in my cock. I groaned. She was smiling.

“With every touch,” she said, “every instant of pleasure you feel from what you’re doing to me, to us, feel your mind slip away. You know it gets easier for you the less you think. There’s no stress when you just act on my words. No thoughts, your body is the only thing that matters to me right now, and what matters to me is all that matters to you. Your fingers, hands, arms, pleasing me your only purpose, let your body do that without thinking, do only what I say, only what I want. Feel your mind slipping away, deeper every moment, let your body respond to my words, my thoughts, which are everything you need.”

Her breathing changed, my arousal rising with hers. Such gentle strokes from neck and shoulders all the way past her knees, which came up to meet my hands, soft strong inner thighs, circling the points of her pleasure, areolæ, nipples, her erect clitoris, two fingers curling inside her like fishhooks, spearing her, teasing that spot inside where everything came so much deeper, everything I did to her echoing in my cock and balls but also on my own nipples, hard into her back, my cock mashed against my belly by her beautiful bottom, so strong, so firm, so soft.

“No coming,” she whispered, gasping, then came herself, a long slow burn I could feel cresting in shallow waves while my own pleasure went into a kind of limbo, suspended in feeling, my mind dropping away just as she’d directed. “Good slave,” she moaned, then surrendered to riding those waves of pleasure, undulating against me, as long as they lasted.

Some time later I became aware again, feeling her rise, turning to face me, still in the tub, the water draining. Slowly, sensuously, Callie oiled her groin and between her legs, knowing I was watching, putting on a show of it and taking pleasure from my response, then held out her hands. I took them to stand facing her, my cock as hard as ever. She ran her oiled hands up and down my length, caressing, preparing me, then took my cock between her legs and crossed them, squeezing me tight even though I wasn’t inside her, her full breasts against my upper chest, sometimes touching my chin—she was either levitating a few inches or else standing on strong tiptoes.

“You’re awake and aware,” she said, “that’s good, that’s what I want, because I’m going to get you off like this and count you down as I do, and with each number you’ll feel your mind slip, falling deep into pliable, suggestible unconscious, where you hear me and obey without thinking, just as you know you need to, coming only when I tell you to. Do you understand?” She squeezed me harder.

“Yes, my goddess,” I said.

“Good slave,” she said, releasing her squeeze. She rotated her hips away from me, pressing herself down until I could feel her clit on my cock head, then forward again, squeezing me tight. She smiled. “This is going to be fun for both of us,” she said, then repeated her movement, squeezing not just her strong legs but also as much of her wonderful ass as could reach around me. Again and again until I could feel an orgasm stirring. Callie drew back and looked into my eyes.

“Three,” Callie said. “Feel my eyes filling your mind. So deep, so irresistible. There is nothing else. Feel it build.” Then she flexed forward and squeezed tight once, twice, thrice before releasing and sliding further away, rotating her hips and grinding, once, twice, thrice.

“Two,” she said, and it was like I was spacing out, held fast by the pleasure she was stoking within me and by her penetrating gaze, beautiful amber-green eyes the windows to her beautiful soul, flowing into and out of mine as she moved around me, holding me tight. “You want to come, you need to come, but you will only do so on my command, mindless and obedient, and when you come, you will belong to me, fully, completely. Do you understand?”

“Yes goddess,” I said, my body relaxing as consciousness faded. I gave myself to her control.

“Good slave, I can feel your pleasure building, your mind fading, your body trembling before my words, helpless to do anything but what I tell you, fighting to hold yourself as the pressure rises, as your pleasure increases, holding it in for me, for yourself, for us.”

“Yes goddess,” I said, my voice seeming to come from far away, vision darkening even as my eyes stayed deep in hers.

“One,” she said. “Come, my good slave, come hard, and keep coming until I tell you to stop.”

I has just enough awareness to feel relief at finally being able to let go, satisfaction that I could do so on Callie’s terms, and then a veritable lightning bolt of ecstatic release.

I found myself at the breakfast table. There was toast and butter and jam, strong coffee for Mariano and tea and juice plus last night’s leftovers. Mariano flicked curious glances, as if not quite sure what to make of me, while Callie, in her colorful silk robe, perused a glossy tourist magazine. One of my arms ached, the pain centered inside, high up between my elbow and shoulder as if, as if ... no, I couldn’t remember.

“How do you feel?” Callie asked me, her eyes drawing me in.

“I don’t know what to think,” I said. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I trust you.”

“That’s good, my love, because you don’t need to understand, and truly, it’s better that you don’t even though it’s exactly what you need most. I’m so glad you trust me, I truly cherish that.”

Yeah I was confused, but the food was good, the ache in my arm was fading, Callie’s warm presence was wonderful, and she was still the best thing that had ever happened to me, the love of my life. I had another piece of taquito, the tortilla not so crisp as last night, but still nice. I was pretty damned hungry.

“We’re going sailing,” Callie said. It wasn’t yet 8:00 AM.

“Do you know how?” I asked.

“Not really, but you do, and if worse comes to worst there’s always the engine. We’ll need to pack for overnight.”

The doorbell rang. Mariano rose to answer it, returning two minutes later with three full plastic takeout bags.

“Lunch, dinner, breakfast,” he said, grinning.

“You’re good,” I said, grinning back. “Last night’s tapas was delicious, and it still is.” I was holding a skewer of chilled grilled shrimp, part of the first one in my mouth.

“Mi mama is the best cook in our village, she hardly ever let my brother or me into the kitchen but I learned a lot about great food.”

Callie laid her magazine on the table. “Pack it up, boys,” she said. “We’ll swim, but bring something warmer, just in case.” It didn’t take long, we didn’t have much, I wasn’t going to need warmer clothing even if Callie might but she told me to so I did. The sailboat, whose name was Nahual, was well stocked with towels, fresh linens and gear for an extended saltwater sojourn, even a ruggedized laptop. Walking the dock was like going back in time for me, the tang of salt air, brilliant morning sun warming everything from its overnight relative cool ... it would be another hot and fairly humid early July day. On the water that sun would be blinding, so sunscreen and good sunglasses were a must, but Nahual had them.

I checked the forecast, which looked mild, and we cast off at about 8:45. The house and several others were between two jetties near the marina entrance. We motored out maybe half a mile before the southwest wind felt as constant as it would get. I’d been showing Mariano and Callie the cockpit controls as well as I could interpret them and Mariano seemed riveted ... it wasn’t much more complex than driving with a lot more room for error, and he was becoming such a good driver that this was easy for him. The sails were right for the weather we could expect, a furled main and genoa on an automated system that could be controlled entirely from the cockpit, which should’ve made me feel like I was cheating—sailing used to be an art!—but I was actually somewhat relieved at not having to manage the full complexity of a 42′ boat, larger than anything I’d captained before. At least the wind should be friendly.

Mariano took the helm while I read up on the sail control system, and then, 15 minutes after a more experienced captain would’ve, I put the boat into the wind and hit a switch to unfurl the main, then another for the genoa, then turned into a close reach until the sails luffed the way I wanted. I shut the engine down. It was far too easy—all the lines could be controlled from the cockpit—and then it was all about minor trim adjustments, which were much the same as I already knew, and relatively easy to relate to Mariano and Callie. I felt good, calmed, this had been a source of some anxiety but I was able to relate the details to more than one intelligent and slightly skeptical recipient despite being no expert myself. Callie gave me a wonderful hug.

Two hours of sailing in increasing heat—It helped to deploy a canvas canopy over the cockpit and much of the deck—brought us to Isla San Pedro Norlasco. We saw porpoises early and there were sea lions everywhere here, “bright with sun and wet with sea water”. We furled sails, motored into the island’s lee and dropped anchor. It was still morning. Callie and I had explored the cabin while Mariano steered; there was a large latex mattress forward in the v-berth, roughly king sized but not rectangular. We made the bed and gave it a little test, which was nice, then tidied up. Mariano had several sleeping options aft, but this would be our space.

“Time to swim,” Callie announced after we anchored in a protected cove near the island’s southeast shore. “Mariano, let’s do this.”

I lowered the swim platform from the stern and jumped off immediately ... I would leave Mariano’s swim instruction to Callie, a much better teacher than I.

I dove into surprisingly warm water. Deeper and deeper, mental wheels turning with Steinbeck/Darwin’s ”time to think and to look and to consider”.

Back on the boat later, I somehow connected to the internet. Sure, we were 15 miles from the nearest access point, but I focused, filled in some gaps, and then I was online. There were better dive sites around the island. I called out to no response. Then again, inside my head, linked to Callie’s.

“Quiet,” she said, so I was.

Eventually, they came aboard. Mariano exhausted but elated.

“I swam!” he said. Callie was showering.

“She’s the best teacher I’ve ever known,” I told him.

“I’ll get lunch ready,” he said.

Mariano brought out tortas—Mexican sandwiches. Maybe too much mayo but once Callie joined us I wasn’t going to put mine down, in fact after no more than two bites I doubt I could have—I was hungry and it was delicious.

“Tsk,” Callie said as I licked my fingers clean. She’d changed her look, her lips and nails no longer bright red, now darker like burgundy, or blood. Even her hair was darker, now in a long braid that dangled past her waist. She’d changed from the one-piece she’d worn with Mariano into a bikini that she filled out wonderfully even under a thin white shirt knotted at her waist, and she had a knife in a sheathe strapped to her lower leg.

“There are better dive sites around the island,” I said, trying and failing not to goggle.

“Take us,” Callie told me, smiling but not. It seemed like she was avoiding my eyes, like some of her joy had gone, like something she wasn’t looking forward to was coming. I might’ve known what it was if I had my extrasense, but she’d told me to withdraw it and so I had. We raised anchor and motored further south, where there was a big rock just off the steep wall of the island. It was actually somewhat difficult to judge distance here ... the island rose sharply from the water, the steep rock nearly devoid of vegetation, the sun reflecting hard and hot from southeast faces. We anchored again near the entrance to the channel between the island and its little offshore rock.

“There’s supposed to be an arch here, underwater,” I said. “I’d like to check it out.”

“You go,” Callie said. “I’ll join you later.”

“Don’t be surprised if I stay down awhile,” I said, put on water shoes, then slid over the transom and dove in. It was a short swim to that offshore rock. I could’ve spent more time in the water, but I wanted to get a sense for how it would be to climb these rocks, thinking to climb on the much higher island later, and it turned out to be easy, maybe 7m high. I stood on top, waved to Callie and Mariano, and dove deep into the channel.

A lot of what I’d been doing in the water earlier, while Callie was teaching Mariano to swim, was exploring how to dive without scuba equipment. I wanted to see as if wearing goggles, manage the pressure of deeper water, and of course breathe. I’d learned that I could do all three, at least to a certain extent, with the help of magic to maintain air bubbles around my eyes and lower pressure water around my ears. I’d gotten more than 10m deep in my earlier explorations and wanted to go deeper. On my first dive, using that dive from the rock, I got 15m deep and was underwater for almost two minutes. I came up fast enough that I came clear of the water almost to my swim trunks.

“Woo hoo!” I yelled to Callie and Mariano after a few deep breaths. Callie looked annoyed ... two minutes under water is a long time, and maybe she’d been worried. I gave myself a couple minutes to recover, breathing deep and steady, and then dove from the surface, back down to about 15m, underwater a little longer, then repeated the process a few more times. In half an hour I was going twice as deep for twice as long. Deeper still were hammerhead sharks. Several curious sea lions were swimming nearby, occasionally barking at me when I was on the surface. I’m pretty sure they’d never seen anything quite like this.

Coming back up fast the last time, I jumped completely clear of the water and onto the swim platform.

“Showoff,” Callie said. She was drinking iced tea under the shady canopy. It took me a minute to catch my breath.

“You know you can do it, too, right?” I said. “It’s pretty cool down there ... there’s the underwater arch, and ... sharks. Hammerheads. Scary scary stuff.”

Callie casually reached toward me and extended one long burgundy-nailed finger. My entire body locked up ... I couldn’t move at all. Mariano was going below.

“Who am I?” she asked softly.

“You are my goddess,” my voice said.

“You know we’re getting pretty bored up here watching you cavort alone in this water, right?”

“I’m sorry, my goddess, I ... wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m angry with you, slave,” she said. “You must always think of my needs first. Always.”

Uh oh.

“Back in the water, slave,” she said, and I was overboard in seconds. She descended to the swim platform more carefully, shedding the knotted shirt from over her bikini top, then stepping out of her bikini bottom and climbing down the platform’s ladder into the water. She swam to me, put her hands on my shoulders, said “Get hard, slave,” and I did. Then she wrapped her legs around my waist, my chin in her bountiful cleavage, maneuvered my trunks off, slipped down, wriggling on me until I was deep in her unexpectedly very lubricated self, squeezed me once, twice, thrice, enough to make me see stars, and said “Look deep into my eyes and teach me everything you just learned. Come now, come hard, and keep coming until I tell you to stop. Slave. Use your arms and legs to keep us afloat, but you can’t look away and you don’t get to move any other part of your body.”

I had no choice in the matter, I came and came so hard my vision clouded over, giving everything I had to her, and before long she was coming with me. She kept squeezing me, my cock getting so sensitive that it became painful, which was what she wanted, but she hadn’t told me to stop coming, so I did and I did and I did, my sensitivity increasing with each passing moment until it was like a kind of torture, then finally her lips came to my ear and she stopped.

“Fuck me like an animal,” she said in my mind, and mine dropped away.

When I came to my senses I was underwater, Callie’s burgundy bikini top around my neck. She took her ample breasts in her hands and in my mind I heard her say “Down boy,” and a moment later my mouth was on her vulva, my tongue in her vagina, swallowing seawater and my own cum, my mind fleeing again. We’d been underwater for more than five minutes when I became aware again. Her bikini top was covering my eyes so I couldn’t see, and then I felt a sudden piercing pain in my chest and moments later I could sense blood in the water. My blood.

“In a few moments, when I tell you, you’ll be able to move,” I heard Callie’s voice say inside my head, “but you’ll stay underwater until you have my permission to surface. Your mind will fall away, no thoughts, only your body is important to me right now, your body gets to act, to react, to heal itself, and you don’t get to remember any of this until I tell you it’s time.” I was drifting alone in the water, not feeling the need to breathe even though my last thought was that I must’ve been underwater for six minutes. I could feel other shapes, large shapes, moving nearer.

“Now,” some part of me heard her say, and then as I tore my perfect goddess Callie’s bikini top from around my eyes, my world filled with pain.

I woke disoriented on the swim platform, coughing seawater and feeling weaker than I’d felt since after a bender as a middle-aged man, my body in pain so intense it might as well have been on fire. Callie was kneeling next to me, spectacular in her nudity, head bowed, hair hiding her face, a hand on my chest, struggling to keep her breathing steady. She was crying.

I woke disoriented, alone in the v-berth bed Callie and I had made together. I was amazingly hungry and my left arm and right leg and my chest, really my whole body, fucking ached. I struggled up, feeling like I needed to know what was happening. Found a swimsuit, through the dining room and the galley, up the companionway to the cockpit. In the water, Callie was instructing Mariano, who was floating on his back.

“Just relax,” she said, which made my eyelids flutter. “Your body can float all by itself,” she continued, “all you have to do is keep it steady, lazy little kicks will keep your butt on the surface, scull your hands gently, back and forth, so very easy. Keep breathing, noticing how much easier it is to float when your lungs are full, nice and steady, you’re doing so well.” She was treading water near him, looked at me, blinked. Looked back at Mariano, not actually seeing him this time. I could sense that I was disturbing her lesson so I retreated to the bows to find a relatively comfortable place to sit.

I heard her ask “Remember how Jess relaxed you in the car, isolating your involuntary physical response, how much easier relaxing became for you?” Then I stopped paying attention.

The boat remained where it’d been. I was feeling better but hungrier than ever. Callie and Mariano were doing something that would probably be helpful to him someday. My only memory since my first dives to that underwater arch, roughly 8 hours ago, was a vague vision of lying on the boat’s swim platform with Callie kneeling beside me. Where had the day gone? It was now late afternoon and we were deep in the island’s tall shadow. I remembered the food Mariano brought and went below for it. Did I mention how hungry I was? Everything he’d packed up for us that wasn’t for dinner tonight or breakfast tomorrow went straightaway and I was still famished. Nahual had fishing gear but I wasn’t going to wait, even though I knew there were dorado and yellowfin about ’cause I’d seen them in the aquarium-clear water. The dinner bag Mariano brought for us had four portions. Were we expecting company? Fuck it, I unpacked one and gobbled it up, which helped, but not enough. I was actually in pain from the hunger. Sure, maybe I could wait and I really didn’t want to eat anyone else’s portion, it felt like I was already in a lot of trouble with Callie. There were limes, jalapeños, onions, garlic, avocados, and mandarins in the bag Mariano brought for dinner. In the onboard fridge was ginger, scallions and cilantro, viognier from Walla Walla of all places, Carta Blanca and Negra Modelo, two steel Buqui Bichi howlers, prawns, mango salsa, eggs, soy and teriyaki sauce, and in the galley’s pantry and spice cabinet were olive and sesame oil, salt, black and white pepper, smoked paprika, beans, potatoes, sesame seeds, shari rice, nori, rice and red wine vinegars. There was fishing gear in a locker, rod holders and a fighting seat on the starboard stern plus a large-ish grill with rail mounts. Time to improvise a teriyaki-ginger-lime marinade with salt, pepper, paprika, jalapeño and scallions, then measure out a pot of rice, still dry for now on the galley stove.

Back outside I would ideally troll at speed, but to avoid upsetting Callie’s swim lesson I rigged a weighted purple streamer jig on a wire leader, cast as far as I could, as far from Callie and Mariano as I could, a pretty good first try at 40m, and reeled it in. It took less than a minute, incredibly soon (I thought) especially with people in the water not far away, something I’d never tried before. I pumped the fish in, letting it pull against the drag, letting it run so fast the reel virtually screamed, slowly reeling it in again, tiring it out. A strong fast fish, lots of fight especially at first, but I was stronger with the additional advantage of not having hooks in my lip (just my heart!). Finally alongside, a fine young blueback wahoo, almost 10 kg, head partially out of the water, I thanked it for its sacrifice, slid a gaff hook into its gills, raised it far enough to cut beneath those gills and let it bleed out over the side. Callie and Mariano had come back aboard and were bent nearby, curious, and I’m glad they were; blood in the water with sharks about would not have been a good thing around swimmers, magical protections or no, a thought that somehow made me dizzy and achy. Eventually the fish stopped convulsing and I boated it. Callie and Mariano brought a big plastic cooler with ice. I raised and wet the fold-up cleaning table, then beheaded, gutted, scaled, cleaned, and filleted the fish. The grill was propane, not my favorite on land but it would do fine out here. We iced one fillet and half the other, then I brushed marinade on most of the rest. Callie started the rice, then she and Mariano set up the cockpit table while I hosed and cleaned up the cleaning table and deck. They plated the dinner Mariano brought; he noticed one portion already gone.

“I ate it,” I said. “My apologies if it was intended for someone else, but I was starving.”

“It was yours,” Mariano said. “Callie said to get extra, that you would be hungry tonight.”

Callie wasn’t smiling when I looked at her, but I mouthed “thank you, goddess,” to her anyway. She nodded but still seemed sad.

“We all worked up an appetite today, I think,” I said. Mariano smiled. Callie went below to remove the rice from heat and add a mixture of salt, sugar, and rice vinegar, then let it cool.

Twenty minutes passed, enough time for the marinade to do its magic. I brushed off the scallions and replaced them with sesame seeds, cut off the part I hadn’t marinated.

“For sashimi, or sushi,” I said. Callie shook her head like she couldn’t quite believe I’d just said that. “The rest grills up fast, so get ready. You can do the sushi,” and I had them slice the wahoo and avocado thin, lay out the bamboo mat, cover it with Saran wrap, sliced fish, nori, rice, a few prawns and avocado, then roll it up, slice the resulting maki, and top with diced scallions and cilantro. Roe would’ve been better, but even this well-stocked boat didn’t have that. Meanwhile, I lit the grill, let the grate heat, cleaned and oiled it, then put the remaining fillet on, skin side up for a light sear, some of the sesame seeds popping, then flipped it skin side down for two minutes more. This didn’t fully cook the fish, the flesh still pale pink in the middle, but that tender sushi-grade interior would be just fine. I thought of Julia Child: ”The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.”

Dinner was fucking amazing. We ate all of it, splitting a bottle of viognier, an excellent pairing with the wahoo. Callie seemed happier, Mariano was delighted ... he’d never tasted cuisine that wasn’t prepared in a Mexican style, we all knew he had a great sense for good food, and with the right ingredients, none of this had been difficult to prepare.

It was evening now; we raised anchor and motored up the east side of the island, reaching its northern end at dusk. There were several sheltered coves that would be good places to stay the night, but before that I wanted to get in the water again, this time with Callie.

“Callie, honey, you seem unhappy,” I said. “Is everything OK?”

She seemed torn between an urge to reprimand me for not referring to her as my goddess, and by genuine pangs of sorrow and regret. She bowed her head.

“I can’t tell you,” she whispered, “not yet. But you won’t remember asking me that, and you won’t ask again. Understand?”

“Yes, my goddess,” I said, nodding, not understanding at all but content to follow her direction. At least for now. Which seemed an odd caveat for me, then. She looked intently into my eyes.

“Do you trust me?” she asked softly.

“Yes, my goddess,” I said.

“Then forget,” she whispered, and I did.

We played two rounds of three-handed cribbage while waiting for full darkness. Mariano wasn’t comfortable going into dark water, but we lowered the swim platform far enough that he could lie on it while wearing goggles and a snorkel, his head over the edge, enabling him to see a little of what we would underwater. Callie and I snorkeled for a bit before deciding to go deeper the way I had before. I was surprised to find that she already knew how, but then my memory of earlier today was decidedly patchy.

There was light in the water, floating all around. Diatoms, bioluminescent, incongruously reminding me of “It’s A Small World.” We each had a flashlight but darkness was nicer so we kept them off. A manta ray cruised slowly just below the surface, seeming almost to hover. It disappeared very quickly below when I tried getting closer. The water was calm and almost completely flat, the only sound above from fish breaking the surface, sometimes jumping, or the occasional hesitant breath of wind nudging the boat into a different attitude from the long anchor cable. Back underwater with Callie, both of us nude now except for Callie’s bikini top, flashlights on lanyards, the long knife strapped to Callie’s leg: one minute below, then two, then three, then I stopped counting, eyes adjusted to the darkness, surrounded by bioluminesence, like pale colored snow falling in moonlight. I reached to hold one of Callie’s hands, and she squeezed mine in return. I swam below her, rolled over, reached under her top to caress one of her breasts, touched my tongue to her pebbling nipple. Callie put her hands on my shoulders, then wrapped her legs around my waist, riding me underwater, sliding her body down mine, caressing my erect cock with her soft warm vulva, took me into her for a moment, her beautiful eyes commanding mine to not look away, then slid away and pressed her groin to me, slowly moving up and down, fingers and nails lightly caressing my chest, sharing sensation. Under normal circumstances being upside down underwater would lead inevitably to water up my nose, but here, now, magically enhanced, all was copacetic.

I’m pining for the moon

And what if there were two

Side by side in orbit around the fairest sun?

My hand clutching her wondrous ass, holding us close, I engulfed her with my other arm, probed her warm mouth with my tongue, eyes deep in hers, then slid her higher on me. Her legs were still wrapped around my waist and those legs were strong enough to resist if she wanted, but she let it happen, legs sliding up either side of my chest to my armpits. I urged her higher still. She sighed bubbles and wrapped her thighs around my neck, our eyes still locked together. My hands came around to her breasts, squeezed her, my thumbs brushing back and forth across her erect nipples. She threw her head back, breaking eye contact, and I nuzzled her sex, lips and tongue teasing at first but then deeper, harder, rougher. She was close so I backed off, then bore in again when she was away from her edge, twice more bringing her to that edge and then easing off until I heard her voice in my head.

“Yes, my good slave, now.” I bore down on her clitoris and she spasmed as if electrocuted but I kept on until she came, hard and long. We’d been underwater for 10 minutes. She finally unwrapped her legs from around me, giving me a squeeze before she did, then took my hand and we surfaced to a sky full of stars, a light haze of evaporation on the water. We’d been magically sustaining ourselves without breathing underwater for so long that normal breaths seemed unfamiliar, but our lungs hadn’t forgotten and we breathed deep for two minutes, catching up. She swam close and caught my eyes in hers again, put her hands on my shoulders, making me tread water for both of us.

“That was nice, my good slave, but you’ll need to fully submit if you want yours,” she said. “You’ll find your mind becoming even more susceptible to my thoughts, my words, my suggestions, as soon as you enter me, deeper in my power the deeper you’re in me, and when you hear me command it, your mind will slip away so easily, just as I want it to, just as you need it to. Staying in the water with me means you agree to do as I say, to become even more submissive to my desires, which are all you want, all you need.”

She didn’t ask for my agreement but she didn’t need to ... just staying here with her was all the agreement she needed.

“Good slave,” she whispered, wrapped her legs around my waist again, and slowly lowered herself onto me, hovering at the very tip of my cock, pulling me in and pushing me out rapidly, using just the muscles at her entrance, stimulating my glans until I wouldn’t have been able to think straight even if she hadn’t already told me she wanted exactly that. There was nothing for me to do, nothing but sink into her power just as she’d told me I would. We sank into the water and she lengthened her stroke, taking me deeper, into her, into her power, into her control. Below us were more lights, red and white, flashing rapidly, dim with distance but coming closer.

“Let your mind fall away,” she said in my mind, and conscious thought fled.

forget all about the pressure of days

Do what I say and I’ll make you okay

And drive them away

The images stuck in your head

“Good slave,” I heard her think, then she unwrapped her legs and separated from me. “Keep yourself safe, let your body act on its own without your mind guiding it, protecting yourself, protecting me, healing yourself as you need, all without thought, just letting your body do what it already knows so well, your unconscious mind knowing it won’t need to remember any of this. You’ll forget all of it until the time is right, just like everything else. No surfacing until we’re safe.”

I felt something grab my arm, something sinuous and long with sharp edges. And then another like it, then all of a sudden I was being pulled into something I’d never felt anything like, red and white flashing all around me, and then something bit me, really fucking hard, tearing more than an inch deep into the muscle of my side, again and again. And then another thing like it was on my leg, both of them gripping so tight there was no escape. Bodies slick and rubbery, no way for hands to grip except for winglike appendages. I tore one away and the rest of the body separated, but another had already latched onto my other leg and more were swarming closer.

I am a killer

You’ll get lost and buried deep

If you swim with me

“Away!” my body shouted, wordless and almost silent underwater, and the creatures not already attached to me wavered as if hit by a shockwave. Then I did it again, and again, better targeted and more effective each time, but as I twisted to detach the two creatures still attacking me, as my body’s attention turned to them, I could feel the rest coming closer.

I felt something entirely different closing in, much bigger, a veritable killing machine. It impacted one of the attacking creatures as suddenly and catastrophically as a speeding car and I could feel its teeth tearing through the creature’s rubbery flesh, and then another was caught, the rest clearing like a swarm of bats from a cave, dozens or hundreds jetting in dozens or hundreds of different directions, but most importantly away from me and from Callie.

I removed the two remaining creatures by tearing at them, ripping the mantle of one in half, the other detaching as soon as it felt my hand pulling it apart and jetting away in a black cloud. I grabbed a piece of one still-spasming creature and kicked towards the surface. We were away from the island and the boat, out of the little sheltered cove in deeper water. We swam back. Mariano was aboard, the swim platform still submerged. We climbed up and over the transom. My side and both legs were a bloody torn mess.

“Go inside,” Callie told Mariano, but he shook his head. “He’ll heal,” she said. “You’ve seen him do it.”

“You saved me,” he said. “Both of you. I want to do anything I can to help.” Callie took Mariano’s face in one hand, looking deep into his eyes.

“You’re a good man, Mariano,” she said, holding his gaze. “But truly, it’s better if you don’t see this. He’s going to be fine.”

Mariano couldn’t look away, I know all too well how that goes, but he backed up a step, then another. She wasn’t magically compelling him, he was just doing what she asked. Because he trusted her, trusted what Callie and I had together. And maybe because he was used to doing what Jess wanted, compelled or not.

I examined the remains of the creature I’d pulled up, using my flashlight. It was most of a very large squid, part of its mantle missing but the tentacles intact. A very dark uniform red color.

“Go below, Mariano,” Callie told him. “Please. And find something loud to listen to, or find headphones and call Jess.” Reluctantly, he backed down the companionway into the saloon. She turned back to me.

“Humboldt squid,” I said, holding it out for Callie to see, but she only glanced at it, “and I think the thing that scattered them was a great white shark.”

“I’m so sorry, Bob, but you need this,” she said, backed up a step, and swift and strong and sure as a cobra, she roundhouse-kicked my upper leg. I felt the femur snap and my world go dark yet again.