The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Come in, please!”

It was a woman’s voice.

Women have lots of different voices. The reason for this is probably because there are lots of different women. Some of the voices I was used to was the professional voices of my colleagues when working and their relaxed voices during coffee breaks. Some women’s voices were bored like a waitress at the tail end of her shift, some imperious like a government employee at the terminus of a long line of humbled citizens about to ask to be allowed to pay to fill out a form they didn’t want to fill out, but had to. I liked that last voice since I was such a dirty pervert.

The women in the kind of porn videos I usually watched spoke with very haughty, bitchy voices, while the voices in my most favorite ones were happy, thrilled, laughing.

The petite girl behind the huge desk was of the latter category. Voice so full of life that all other women seemed tired and weary in comparison.

She looked like every chirpy, preppy, silly, yet emotional lead in every romantic comedy. A half Latino, half Chinese mix, or perhaps she just didn’t fit any racial stereotype?. She had short, black hair, a bright yellow dress that was flimsy enough to be made of men’s dreams, and a pair of eyes so big they could to suck out your soul and chew it until sanity came splattering out.

She was hardly five feet, both of them had been resting on the desk as I came in, but she dominated the big, empty stone chamber where only a few of the magic plants grew to barely toss some light into the dark corners.

I am an ancient temple, the chamber seemed to say. Here forgotten rituals have been held since before your nation was even founded. Here rivers of blood from countless sacrificial victims-

Hi! This is just som crazy place where I like to hang out, the woman seemed to say as she tucked her bare feet under the desk and smoothed down the dress. I’ve been thinking of renovating it, put up some wood paneling and some fake windows with some bright curtains, some nice flowers along the walls, and some posters of guys eating their lunch on top of skyscrapers, of Audrey Hepburn and Fellini films, plastered all over.

The door closed behind me and the tugging on the collar brought me all the way up to her desk. When I was six feet away, the pulling stopped.

“You’re the applicant, right?” she said.

“Huh?” I said in a rare show of eloquence.

“The applicant.” She consulted a piece of paper in front of her on an otherwise empty desk. She had a pen stuck behind her ear. “You’re the applicant?”

“For what?” I asked. There were a lot of other questions I could have asked, but this was as good a place to start as any. I was also intensely conscious that I was wearing some very cheesy, yet very effective, bondage equipment and was giving her a standing ovation from inside my shorts that just couldn’t be explained away.

“No, no,” she said, sighing. “Don’t. Don’t come in here an tell us you didn’t read the ad. Just don’t. Bad move, take it from me.”

“Who are you?”

“Me? Oh, sorry. Politeness is not exactly my middle name. In fact I don’t have a middle name. Over in the Valley, that’s my home, which will be your home as well, if you get the position, that is, we are called by expressions. I think that’s kind of cute. My name is Dream Dancer, but call me Dreamy. What’s yours?”

I said “Jack,” while trying to take in and prioritize all the new questions that she machine gunned into my head.

Dreamy spoke quickly, with a kind of singsong rhythm that seemed to lay her emotions bare for all listeners. She was the kind of woman who use her entire body to speak, tossing her head and hands around like she had invented her own sign language. I noticed that she had a body inside the dress, noticed that her breasts were worthy of a slap across the face to check out. Not that I was the kind of man who did such things.

My manhood noticed it, too, and nodded in appreciation. The situation had somehow managed to get even more embarrassing.

“So, Jack,” she said, took her pen from behind her ear, sucked on it, and wrote something on her piece of paper. “What,” she consulted the document, “makes you think you are the right man for the position?”

“I...” I said.

“Do you have the right stuff, Jack? Can you deliver as requested, and on time? Is your work of sufficient quality, and quantity, to satisfy our exalted standards?”

If they required me to be able to identify double entendres in my current state, I had already failed. “I...” I said. During my previous job interview they had asked me lots of questions about something called ‘Java’ and I had known exactly enough about ‘Java’ to get the job, only to find out they had decided to stop with the ‘Java’ thing and move on to another tech buzzword that I didn’t know. “What’s happening to me!” I yelled, pulling at the leather strap. She had to see it, had to know I needed help!

She raised a hand and smile. “Calm down, now. Nothing to worry about. Let’s just try again. You’re applying for a position. That’s what’s going on. Or am I missing something? Sorry, I am not very good at this. Look, I was only messing with you before. I can tell you a little abut it, if you want to know?”

I did want to know.

“All right,” she said, dark eyes gleaming as she sat up in the chair. Her breasts began bouncing against the thin, yellow dress as she started off on the least illuminating explanation I had ever been subjected to.

“There are lots and lots, and probably lots, of worlds hanging round in the multiverse, right?”

She didn’t wait for my answer, for some reason assuming it was ‘yes.’

“And on these worlds there are lots of guys who, you know, are eligible to, well, fill vacancies, add value, produce good results.” again I was oblivious to the double meaning, “Simply put, people we want contributing to the team. So we invite them over for some initial, informal interfacing, so that we can get a feel for each other and see if we are a tight fit or not. Find out if our Valley is right for them or not. Sounds reasonable, yes? Yes, of course it does.”

“I didn’t understand quite what you—”

“What my role is? Oh, I am the one you have to convince in order to get on the inside. I am just a simple servant of the Goddess.”

“Goddess?”

“Yes, of course! Our Lady of Devotion. Why, do you think you can cross time and space with just that science thing you’ve so impressed by in your world? Do you think you can suddenly speak Craggy to me without divine intervention?”

“What’s Craggy?”

“See? You’re not even aware you’re speaking it. Glory and praise and all that stuff be to the Goddess!” She lifted both arms up above her head, her large, warm eyes laughing at me.

“Are you an angel?” I asked. I hadn’t meant to, but she was that beautiful.

“Oh, you!” she said and blushed. “Technically, yes. But only in the sense that a mud dragon is also a dragon.”

“Dragon? Are there dragons—”

“Never mind,” she said, shaking her hands at me to get me to stop talking. “We’re sliding. I’m here to conduct an examination. Let’s begin, shall we?”

“My questions—” I began.

“No! Come on! No more! I’ve done nothing but answering you questions since you came in! Now you can answer some of mine.” She pouted. She was an expert pouter. This was woman who could make the world revolve around herself just by sticking her lower lip out.

“OK,” I said. “Could, eh, you just help me off with these?” I pointed at my manacled hands and collar while wearing the most sheepish grin since sheep were invented.

“Huh?” She didn’t seem to comprehend.

“This... The collar and stuff. You know, could you help me to take it off? I can’t do it.”

“What?” Dreamy said.

“You see this?” I got confused.

“Yes, I see it. Of course I can see it. Do you think I am blind? I would like you to know that I am not.”

“Then, could you—”

“I am just surprised. You say you want it off?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Huh?” Dreamy wrinkled her brow. She truly didn’t understand. “Why?”

“Because... I feel really uncomfortable wearing it right now.”

“You do? But you put them on yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“And you’ve got a massive erection. You should be happy to wear it?”

“No, I... I would feel better not wearing it at the moment.” Would I? Really? All of my body responded to this beautiful woman and her energetic movements. And she had noticed my erection without screaming and running away, rolling her eyes, or giving me a sneer.

“Oh,” she seemed disappointed as well as confused now. “Yeah, sure. Of course. No problem. I may have been misinformed about the whole thing. Sorry, this is my first time bringing in a new man. I could have made some sort of terrible mistake, sure.”

She rose, walked around the desk, and over to me.

Wow, she was almost a head shorter than me, and probably only half my weight, yet she had so much presence she could have been the love child of Marilyn Monroe and Elvis.

As she reached up to my collar, I caught a whiff of her perfume. I shouldn’t have. I really shouldn’t.

Her perfume smelled like dewy roses just as the warm sun rises and shines on them. The scent went straight for my nose, shot in through both nostrils, and exploded in my brain. I knew I wouldn’t be able to smell this woman without wanting her. Wanting her bad, even if it was just a whiff through a hundred thick doors.

She didn’t touch me as she set me free. Not once. The yellow dress was just inches from the tent in my shorts, but I couldn’t feel it rubbing, caressing, teasing. Her fingers went to the leather strap, pulled at it. It opened just like that, fell off, dangling from the strap that went through the front ring. Finally I could lower my hands. There was no contact between her skin and mine. None. I tried to open the wrist cuffs, but the leather stayed glued on. She giggled, sweet as candy you’re not allowed to eat, and did it for me in two quick, fluid motions. The equipment fell to the floor. I was free.

And wished I wasn’t. Now it wasn’t all up to her anymore. I was free, I could act, choose. Didn’t like it.

“All right, Mr I Want To Be Free.” She took a step back and jumped onto the table, sat down on it and faced me, feet dangling. “Pull your pants down yourself, then!”

“What?” I said.

“Yes, of course! You don’t think we’re interested in you because of your brilliant mind or your stimulating conversation, do you? Not that I’m implying anything. I’m sure you’re both very smart and witty. Maybe not just now, but perhaps in another setting?” She winked at me.

“You want to see my...?” My jaw dropped like an asteroid striking the earth.

“Look at it?” She giggled again. “No, no. Looking is just where we’ll begin. You’ll be undergoing a thorough physical, practical, and emotional examination.”

“Huh?”

“So, you going to drop those short pants or not?”

A thorough examination. Of my member.

My member.

I couldn’t count how many times I had fantasized about being examined by dominant women. Medical examination. Condom prototype testing. One sexy, intelligent-looking lady touching, another commenting, a third taking notes, all three of them laughing at me. Skirts and dresses, scrunchies around wrists, sometimes brushing against me as they worked, long, long hair constantly being put behind ears, constantly slipping down again.

That didn’t have to mean anything. Those were only fantasies, this was reality. Well, the craziest reality I had ever experienced, but still. Real.

But my member didn’t see it that way. My member screamed at me to get a move on it. Do it, do it, do it, you chicken shit coward!

I pulled the shorts down with trembling hands.

The beast reared its head and waved at her for come and do things, anythings, everythings to it! Come to me, baby! Touch me!

“Oh?” she said. “Would you look at that! I like it already. Come closer, please.”

I took a step towards her. She could reach out with her hand and touch me. Touch it.

“Yes, yes. Very good. And another step, please?”

That brought me to a stop with her legs between mine, which I had been forced to spread, and my big lump of meat gesturing at her at the height of her belly button. Two inches from her yellow dress. From heaven.

Touch me! Why did I remove the collar and manacles? I wanted to put them back on. Now.

I didn’t, and she didn’t touch me, not at first. First, she cocked her head, so cute!, and looked at it from both sides, from the front and the back. Her smile and her wet roses perfume made sure I stayed rock hard. I had never come without stimulating myself, but right now I would have burst if the orgasm-preventing spell had been removed.

“I have to say, Jack,” she said and looked at me through her lashes, “that I am impressed by the visual inspection. Large, beautiful. Wonderful arc, massive head.”

“Gah,” I said. I wanted to say “Thank you,” but it didn’t come out that way.

“Let’s move on.” She blew me a kiss.

I gave her another “Gah...” Or was it an “Ungh..."?

She pulled something out of her yellow dress. It was a night black handkerchief made of smooth, shiny satin.

“Don’t move now.” She let it fall across my tip.

I moved, I jumped. The feeling! The light touch!

“Don’t move, I said!” she chided, but laughed as she spoke.

I nodded, added a “Gah!” and clenched my fists to keep from standing up on my toes and press the satin-covered member against her breasts.

She grabbed the edges of the handkerchief, pulled them down, teasing my tip in the process, then made a bow below my balls. Somehow she managed to do it without touching me with her fingertips. Somehow her magic still managed to stop me from having that orgasm. My equipment, why wasn’t I wearing my equipment?

“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands. “You, sir, are just perfectly long. You can reach further than almost all other men, yet not so far you’re going to hurt us. Now for the other dimension.”

She pulled out two more handkerchiefs, similar to the first one. One she tied around my shaft, tied it rather tight, the other went around my head. It made me bite my tongue to stop me from whimpering like a puppy being left alone for the first time.

“That’s impressive!” she said. “You’re so thick you’re going to make some women orgasm at your first thrust. Well, make me do so at least. But that’s not going to let you off, though. I would want at least a seven course meal, cigar, brandy, and a mint chocolate if I decided to visit your restaurant.”

She cocked her head, fluttered her eye lashes at me. “Would you like that, Jack? For me to choose from your menu?”

“Gah!” I said, but she understood that I meant ‘I would amputate a hand or foot of your choice if that would get you to do so.’

“Good! Last physical now. Ehem.” She pulled another handkerchief out of her dress. I had no idea where she kept them.

This one she held in both hands, then put it between my body and manhood like she was going to dry it off after a bath. Suddenly she jerked it from side to side and laughed as I jumped and gasped.

“Sorry! Just kidding! Stand still now.” She blew me a kiss again.

I tried, but my knees had started to shake with pure desire. Why didn’t I throw myself on her? Why wasn’t I wearing my equipment?

“Let’s see,” she said and pulled at the ends. Pulled my manhood closer to her dress, pulled it down, pulled it so that it pointed straight towards her groin like I was dowsing for pleasure.

“Nice resistance, smooth yield,” she said.

“I like this,” I managed to whisper.

“Of course you like it, silly! You’re a man!”

Then she let go and it flew up and smacked against my belly. Another ‘I would have come’ moment, and then it stopped swinging inside the handkerchiefs she had tied there.

“See how it doesn’t flab around?” she said. “It’s flexible, yet probably the most rigid member I ever saw. It won’t flag until you pass out from exhaustion. Which is going to be a very real possibility, I must add!” She gave me another sweet smile.

I could be worried, I wasn’t. No chance. “Thank you, Goddess,” I said.

“No, no,” she laughed. “I am just a poor, working gal, jerking men off for a living. You can call me my Lady, if you want. That would be real sweet of you!”

“I will, my Lady,” I said.

“But not all the time. Men are so frustratingly binary. Either off, or so on that you have to tie them up and leave them in a chest for a few hours to cool off.”

“Oh, please!” I burst out.

She laughed like she was about to have a fit, but still managed to remove the handkerchiefs from my manhood without touching me even once.

“It’s not supposed to be sexy,” she said. “You’ve never been in the chest, have you?”

“No, my Lady.”

“It gets boring after a while, I can tell you. You’ll most likely find out some day, when you get too clingy. Now, get up on the desk!”

“What?” I said.

“What? Why do you always say ‘What’?” She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. “You can hear perfectly well, I know! The desk! Get up on it! Pretty, please?”

She fluttered her lashes again. Those were some real long lashes. Why are women equipped with so many ways of making men obey them?

“Uh, yes, of course,” I said. “But, eh, why?”

“Why? Because it’s time for the practical part of the examination, that’s why! Get up, now!” She put the pen she had stuck behind her ear against my chest, between two shirt buttons, and pushed me away.

I realized I had been standing with my hips tilted towards her. It seemed that Mr Happy had been doing his best to give her yellow dress a hug while I wasn’t paying attention. Right now my attention was a fickle thing.

“This is perhaps my favorite part of the whole thing, so get a move on!” She slipped away from me, rounded the desk, sat down in her chair, and wrinkled her brow.

“I forgot to write down the results,” she muttered, pursing her lips in a way that made my heart do a shuffle. “Blah, never mind. I’ll just put down top marks and leave the rest blank. The girls will find out about all your goodies soon enough. Are you up on the desk, yet?” She looked up, sighed, then covered her eyes with her hand. “Why are you not up on the desk yet?”

I scrambled. Soon I was standing on the broad tabletop, looking out at the eerie stone chamber. We might as well have been in a modern, frosted-glass-and-corporate-logo meeting room. As long as Dream Dancer was here being sexy and utterly at ease, I didn’t care.

She was scribbling down a few notes, her tongue sticking out one side, concentrated as if grappling with a tough math question.

“...and done!” she said. “You’re up! Finally! Now, lose that shirt!”

That was easy, no need to say ‘What?’ That shirt didn’t have any business being on my body right now, black satin or not.

“Nice!” She added a wolf whistle. “And?”

“What?”

“Oh dear!” Again she covered her eyes with her hand. “Socks, Jack. Naked men do not wear socks. That’s the least sexy thing to hit the universe since men started getting intimate tattoos promoting their favorite forms of alcohol.”

My socks went off, flying across a stone floor where hooded worshipers once had chanted magic spells, or some such.

I turned to face Dreamy. Now. Now we were going to have sex, right here on the desk. The practical examination. Her favorite. Would she undress, or take me while still wearing the beautiful, yellow dress? And why wasn’t I wearing my equipment? I wanted to be used, to be powerless against her.

“Now, take my chair.” She got off, lifted it up and handed it to me.

I took it, but had no idea why. I told her so.

“Don’t worry! I’ll explain. Look at the chair. What do you see?”

She seemed very expectant, but I couldn’t help her. I saw something that Charlemagne’s court carpenter would have made for his senior, executive officers. “A chair? It’s nice. Well made.”

“No!” She clapped her hands. “That’s not a chair. That’s a woman. A hot woman with the biggest tits you ever saw, bending over, presenting her very ready, very welcoming female parts to you.”

“It’s... a chair,” I protested, afraid there was some kind of magic going on I didn’t get.

“No!” This time she covered her eyes. “It’s a not a chair. It’s Miss Chairy. And she wants you, big guy. She wants you so bad. She’s dripping went and whimpering for your large, hard fellow to plunge inside her and give her what she so desperately needs.”

“What?” I said.

“Oh, by the love and praise of the Goddess!” she groaned. “Will you fuck the damn thing for me already!”

“What?” I said.

“Put Miss Chairy down,” she said as patiently as a bomb counting down.

I did.

“Lean over her and put your weight on top of her.”

I did that, too.

“Now, make those hip movements that men make during copulation, if you please?”

I shifted to give my pelvis room to move, using my hands on the chair to support my body. “Like this?”

“Yes, and now you be good to poor Miss Chairy, please? She’s started to be unsure now, wondering if she should invite her old boyfriend, Mr Coffee Table, over instead.”

I did a little trust with my hips, my manhood jingling in response as it hit the empty air under the chair. This made me feel more stupid than I had ever done before. If this thing was being streamed live on the Internet right now, I was going to find a cave in deepest Siberia and spend the rest of my life trying to cool my hot cheeks.

The bobbing traitor didn’t agree. He thought, ‘Humiliation? Awesome! Let’s get even harder!’

“Yes,” Dreamy said. “That’s one. Very nice. Now, give me twenty. Or twenty thousand. Give me a lot. Rather, do it until I say stop.”

I made a few more tentative motions of the pelvic area.

“Yes, you can do it...” she goaded. “Now speed it up, ram it in, and pretend like you like it! Miss Chairy wants her yummies!”

I did, facing forwards, trying to focus on what I was doing instead of on my new career in erotic comedy.

“Yeah, big guy! She likes that! Yeah!” Dreamy cheered, then began laughing.

When the head guy downstairs heard that, he decided that old Jack had done with his inhibitions. Woman collapsing in laughter at the sight of me was a staple of my fantasies, and now it was coming true.

I was young, strong, naked, and I was showing off for the sexiest woman alive.

“Go, go! Miss Chairy likey very much!”

I tossed a look her way, caught her red face and tears of laughter. By now I was pulling the chair towards me so hard to stop myself humping off the desk. My manhood smacked against my belly with every thrust, my balls flew like a pair of tumbleweeds tied to a flagpole while being hit by a whirlwind.

I was getting stimulation, feedback. And in my current state, even being stimulated by emptiness was enough to focus on the job at hand. The harder I slammed into the chair, the harder my rod hit my stomach, and the closer I got to the point where I should be coming. Again and again, faster and faster, with Dreamy laughing and laughing, clapping and clapping, with me I panting, sweating, groaning, even growling at the chair to let it know I was so damn horny I had absolutely no control over myself.

“And... done,” Dreamy said after who knows how long. “Thank you, that’s all I needed to see. Miss Chairy just had multiple orgasms and is about to tell you how fantastic you were and that you’ve ruined her for all other men.”

“What?” I slumped on top of the chair.

“Can you hand her down, please?”

“No more?” There was pleading in my voice.

“Nope!” she said, apparently oblivious. “Top marks again, with just a note saying that you come from a civilized world and that you need a couple of months hard, physical training to last the whole night all full intensity.”

“No more?” I repeated.

She shook her head in mock sympathy.

“Can I...” I licked my lips in embarrassment. “I want to put my... equipment back on.”

“The collar?” Dreamy said as she took the chair.

“Yes.”

“You want to put the collar back on?”

“Yes, please.”

“You mean the collar you took off a little while ago?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Didn’t I claim you really wanted it to stay on?”

“You did.”

“But you wouldn’t listen, would you?”

“No, my Lady.”

She grinned like it was Belgian waffle day at the company cafeteria, got up, and fetched my equipment. With a small shake of her head, she came over with it.

“Here,” she said and handed it to me. “But don’t go changing your mind every minute, all right?”

“No, my Lady,” I said. The collar and cuffs dangled from my hand, heavy and very, very present. Steel and leather. “Could you...” My second brain wanted to add something. “Please, could you put them on me?”

She had another laughing fit. “Oh, but you’re so sweet!” Then she pouted. “Shame on you! You want me to do all the work? You don’t think I deserve a little break? You men are all the same.”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” I said. I couldn’t handle that much pout.

“Yes...” she said with heavy eyelids. “And I’ll watch.”

That she did.

She watched with pursed lips as I fumbled the collar tight around my neck, the feel of it as comforting as putting on a scarf during a winter storm. She purred as I finally managed to get the first wrist cuff stuck to my left arm. She even descended into a giggling fit, covering her cute mouth with a hand, as I struggled with the final cuff. Had the leather strap grown even shorter? I wasn’t sure, but I hoped so. I hoped so.

I checked and found that the leather ends of the cuffs were stuck again. I pulled, and nothing gave.

“I can’t take it off now.” I stated it as a fact, but it was definitive, final, sexy, overpoweringly so.

“No,” she said. “You can’t.”

“I have to wait for you to do it.”

“Yes. You must.” She winked. “Too bad for you.”

“I guess I’m forced to accept whatever you’ll subject me to?” I said.

“Yes, yes. Enough banter.” She waved her hand. “Let’s get on with the examination.”

“Of course,” I said, though I did feel a little disappointed. That conversation had been hot.

“Could you kneel down on the edge of the desk, please, and face me?”

I did. My member was facing her a lot. Big time. Waving, calling for her.

“Spread your legs some more and bend backwards, please.”

If anyone had asked me what I had wanted to do just then, it had been to spread my legs and bend backwards, so it wasn’t hard for me to oblige.

“Now I need to do this to make sure you focus on the examination.” She leaned across the desk next to me, conjured up a black satin handkerchief from somewhere inside her dress and used it to blindfold me. “Are you comfortable with this?”

I gave an answer.

“You don’t have to roar, dear,” she said. “A simple ‘yes’ will do. Don’t jump now, please.”

She touched me. Finally, she touched me.

The touch of a woman makes the world go round. The touch of a woman cures all pain, all sorrow. The touch of a woman is like a feather, like silk, like velvet, like the first spring breeze after a long winter. The touch of a woman is worth dying for.

“Don’t jump,” she had said, but when her fingertips brushed against my shaft, I couldn’t help but act like she had just put 10.000 volts through me.

“There, there, stud,” she said. “Take it easy now. Easy does it.”

“Yes, Lady,” I said. “It’s just that I love this so much!”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

I didn’t catch that because she began tapping her fingers against me. Tapping my shaft, tapping my head, the balls, circling, going up and down. Then squeezing, lightly, two fingers only. Both short pinches and longer holds where she kept me still against the involuntary movements such body parts tend to make.

“Hm!” she said.

“W-what? Anything wrong?”

“No. It’s just that you are remarkably hard. First a soft layer, then below I meet a steel rod.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, dear. That’s good. It’s very, very good.”

“Thank you, my Lady. I love it that you think I am good. I want to be good for you so bad, and—”

“Ssh, now! Now comes a very delicate part. No talking!”

She began jerking me off, but she was certainly in no hurry. Slow, sensual, lingering movements, with just enough variation to keep me on the edge.

I wanted to tell her how insanely good this felt. I wanted to prove that I was willing to give up the world and everything I had for this. I wanted to explain how this was the single best, most intense experience I had ever had in my life.

I couldn’t. All I could do was shut up and breathe and moan and toss my head and lick my lips.

Suddenly she stopped. It felt like I had abruptly run out of air, choking to death. I couldn’t ask, though, and it was not until I heard the sound of her pen scribbling that I understood what was going on.

“All right, Jack,” she said, “I’m going to give you top marks on a couple of points again. Feel In Hand? Perfect fit, wonderful arc, silky touch. Responsiveness To Stimulation? Delightful quivering of genitalia, rapid increase in breath, and superb expressions of desire and pleasure. I am also noting your amazing foreskin slipperiness quotient. You will have no problem lubricating your users adequately.” I heard her sigh. “Wow, the kind of language they make me use.”

I wanted to say that the kind of language they made her use could be released as an erotic audiobook. Her hand returned to my member, and I gasped.

“Easy!” she laughed. “All right, we’re getting close to the end. Now for the Potential For Delaying Gratification.”

I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that, but I did like the way she started to touch me again.

Both hands on my member. One sliding down to the base, then appearing up at my head again to follow the other one down the shaft, over and over. It felt a little like being sat on by a woman with no end to her, a woman I could plunge deeper and deeper into, forever and ever.

“Sixty,” Dreamy said, mostly to herself, I guessed. “Let’s increase speed, then... All right, we’re hitting seventy. And adding the Grip of Heaven, does... Oh, straight to eighty-five!” She giggled.

I had no idea why she was counting, or how the Grip of Heaven was performed, but it felt better than a full-on blowjob. I moaned. This was what my life was all about, had to be about, needed to be about.

“Faster? Yes, you’re hitting ninety. Ninety-two, five, seven.”

Better. Sexier. Hotter. How was it possible to be so horny and not soil the ancient stone floor?

“Ninety-eight, Jack. Are you ready?”

“Yes!” I hollered.

Then I lost all sense of time and place. All was lust and pleasure, and I floated among the stars, plunged into the deepest sea, flew like a moth straight at the heart of the sun.

Time passed. Even in heaven, time passes.

“Jack? Jack? Can you hear me?” Dreamy’s voice woke me. Amused, not concerned.

“Gah.”

She was still giving me the infinite woman treatment, but slower now.

“This is amazing! I kept you at ninety-nine point ninety-nine for... seven minutes, and you never come nor flagged. If I hadn’t just seen it, I would have thought it impossible to keep a man on that razor-thin edge. Marvelous! I envy the women who will take possession of you.”

“Thank you,” I managed to say. “Dreamy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Can I please, please experience that again? It’s...” I gasped.

“Words fail you, I know.” She chuckled. “You’re so sweet! Grip of Heaven, touch of an angel, I know, I know. Not now, though. Maybe if we meet again?”

“Are you leaving?” She couldn’t leave? I couldn’t bear to be without her.

“No, you are. Soon as you’re done. Ready for the final test?”

Saying ‘no’ wouldn’t have been much of a point.

“This is the decisive one. If you fail, it’s back to the basement. If you pass, you’re ours. Got it?”

I nodded.

“It’s called the Product Quality Inspection.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said as well. It means we need to see if your spunk is any good.”

“My sperm?”

She removed the handkerchief and I could see again. Her smile was as pretty and cheery as when I first saw it.

“Can you get down on all four?”

It was easy to oblige her, even though my hands were tied to my collar. Where’s the will, there’s usually a way.

When I was presenting my side to her she reached down into a drawer and got out a device I couldn’t quite see before it slipped out of sight. It looked like a mix between a toadstool and an elephant’s trunk, only a little opaque.

“All right,” she. “This is going to feel a little yucky. At first.”

She winked at me and I felt as if the tip of my manhood was being pushed into a sock filled with smooth mango chutney. A little yucky. At first. Then, awesome. The goo was sliding along me, sticky and lazy, pulling my foreskin along until my head was all exposed and buried in the stuff, then just going on until the sock-tube-pouch thing hit the pubic hairs on my belly.

“All right, Jack?” she asked. “Comfortable?”

“Yes, Lady.” This was a ‘yes, Lady’ moment if there ever was one. I was about to be measured like a prize stud or milked like a dairy cow. Humiliation turned up to eleven.

“Would you like it a little tighter?” She wiggled the tube, making me gasp.

“Yes, Lady. Please.” Oh, yes. Much tighter.

She did something and the pressure was turned up to, well, twelve.

“From fifty to ninety-four in two seconds, Jack?” She giggled. “You’re having fun, don’t you?” With a free hand she slapped my backside.

“Gah!”

“Ninety-nine! Really? From just one slap? Oh, my Goddess! What’s going to happen to you when you meet a Lady who enjoys spanking bad boys?” She giggled, gave me wicked smile, then... “Ah, shoot! We don’t have time for you to go all slack-jawed and empty-eyed again.” She sulked. “And now I felt like wanting to play a little. Naughty man!” She grinned and winked. “Ready to tighten up a bit more?”

I gah’ed again.

“Jut a bit at a time, then. First this...”

“Hngh!”

“...and this...”

“Ow!”

“...then this.”

“Oh yes! That’s so magnificent! Yes! Yes!”

“Good! I think that’s enough. We can’t rush the analysis. Ready?”

“For what, my Lady?”

“Go!”

I have no idea what kind of machine people use when they extract semen from bulls in order to inseminate cows later, but it couldn’t possible be more effective than the tube Dreamy held. It hardly had time to start the suction function before I, according to Dreamy who provided a running commentary, hit ninety-nine and then moved into those above-hundred percentages.

I came. I was finally over the hilltop, hovering at the summit before I took the big plunge into the abyss of pleasure. Going over, going over, then...

I let go, fell through bliss for one, single second and let go one, single huge drop of semen. Then it was back into the land of insatiable need.

“Gah?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “We only need one drop. No need to spill all that good juice in vain.” She chuckled.

“Please, let me come! I need it so—”

“Ssh! Ssh! The result is coming up.”

“But, my Lady, I am dying to—”

“Wow! Jack! Jack!” Her face appeared in front of mine. “You won’t believe it! It’s a sensation!”

“Gah?”

“You, sir, carry some fantastic, amazing production facilities in your pants! Your little pair of hairy buddies are cooking up some wicked brew down there. Is that a tactical nuclear missile in your pocket, or are you just happy to blow up the world?”

“Huh?”

“Listen, Jack, Mr Diamond Balls!” She grabbed my face and stared at me. “I can safely say that we have never, ever, ever caught a man with more potent juices than yours. You’re off the charts! Wow! You’re going to be the most valuable commodity in the Valley! Hooray! Aren’t you happy?”

“I... guess?” I said.

“You guess? Wow! I thought you wanted to dedicate your life to serving ladies?”

“I guess?”

“You guess? You’re not telling me you want to quit now? I’m going to be seriously mad if you do! Well, then,” she pouted again, “why don’t we just have you wake up in the morning and make this All Just a Dream and pack you off to work?”

“No!” I said. I had not really thought about whether I wanted whatever it was she was examining for. Not really sure if this wasn’t all just a dream. It didn’t matter. Jack, he no care about dreaming stuff now. “Not that! I want to be a slave! I want to serve! I want you to... I want to be tied up like this and teased until I come all over the floor!”

“Ooo!” she said. “The poor slave really wants his orgasm, does he?”

“Yes, Lady!”

“Oh, he wants its so bad?”

“Yes, Lady!” I tried to wiggle my manhood inside the tube so that I would stimulate myself, but that ended with it falling off.

“Such an obedient, little boy, eh?”

“Yes, Lady!”

“What’s most important, Jack? Your orgasm, or obeying me?”

Pause.

She rolled her eyes, clicked her tongue.

“Really, Jack?”

“Uh, obeying you, of course!”

“Too late, Jack, much too late.”

“I was just... I was too horny! I am sorry, my Lady. I want to obey, but...”

“So,” she said producing handkerchief number two hundred and started to clean the goo off my manhood, “if you had the choice between me going on doing this, again and again, and making me a cup of hot tea with sweet honey and massaging my neck, what would you choose?”

“I would make you—”

“No, Jack. Don’t lie to me. Think. Answer honest.”

She wasn’t doing anything but cleaning my rod, but the dabs were intense and covering all of the hard and the soft and the smooth and the squiggly bits. It was hard thinking about anything at all when you just want to lose yourself in pleasure. I forced myself to think about her letting go of me, the horror!, and removing my collar so that I could put a kettle on and rub her back. I wouldn’t mind rubbing her back, kiss her glossy, short hair and neck, feel my manhood slide against her yellow dress, again and again, until...

“I am sorry,” I said. “I am too horny.”

She laughed. “Don’t be! Honesty is all I ask for. But let this be a lesson to you. You must find out if you truly are a slave or just an erotic massage client who doesn’t like to have to move.”

“A slave,” I said.

“Good! Then don’t forget that.”

“No, my Lady.”

She went on cleaning for a minute, while I licked my lips and had a few false starts at speaking. Finally my tongue decided to untangle.

“If you want,” I said, “you can stop and I can rub your neck for you. I won’t be sexual about it, I promise.”

That made her giggle, squeezing my shaft as she did so until I gasped. “Thanks for the offer Jack, but I am working. I really am. To be honest, if I had my way, you would be doing me doggy style since the moment you came in the door instead of saying ‘What?’ all the time.”

“Oh,” I said.

“How’s this?” she wrapped the handkerchief around my rod and moved it up and down like it was a pantyhose or a schrunchie. “It is enjoyable? And can you still register what I am saying? A single ‘Gah’ from you now and we slow way down, all right?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And don’t ‘yes, my Lady’ your way through this. I hate dumb servility.”

I clamped my teeth down on the next ‘yes, my Lady,’ that was on its way out my mouth and said, “It’s just so hard not to agree to anything you say when you—”

“You want me to slow down?”

“Please, no!”

“Then behave!” She slapped my bottom again and laughed. “All right. Some more, final advice coming up. When you come to the Valley you’ll find you are very vulnerable to the charms of women. All men are, naturally, but unlike them you actually have an excuse for it. You were born to serve. That means your manhood,” she gave it a playful slap which she could give me anytime she wished, “is not always to be trusted. Find women who are good in their hearts, not just in the sack. Serve them well, both with that amazing piece of meat,” another slap, “but also make them hot tea with honey and rub their necks and feet. Be a good slave, but demand that they respect you. You are weak to their charms, so be vigilant and don’t let them mistreat you. Got it?”

“I think so,” I said. “But,” I had to find something to ask about instead of just agreeing. “I don’t really know anything about the Valley. Or why I am going there, or...”

“Oh,” she said, loosing her grip for a moment, looking embarrassed. “That’s right. I forgot. And we don’t really have time to explain. Actually, I think it is time for you to go.”

She removed the handkerchief, which I didn’t like, and removed the collar and cuffs, which I liked even less. Then she went and fetched my clothes, all of them. I hated that.

“Put them on, please,” she handed them over. “Socks after shorts, if you don’t mind. Anyway, you’ll learn all about your new home soon enough. Here’s a few tips, though. The lowlands can be dangerous to an unwary traveler such as yourself, but it’s the deep, dark places you need to keep away from. Aim for the high hills, especially if you see towers. There’ll be people there. Got it?”

“I think so,” I said as I dressed, my member as erect and as protruding from my shorts as ever. Her advice was about as helpful as ‘go west to find America’ to a medieval dirt farmer.

“Good, then you’ll find a way!” She took my hand and led me towards the door I had entered.

“Uh, you want me to go back to—”

“No, this door leads to the Valley now. The Goddess just snaps her fingers, and ‘wham!’”

“Oh.”

“Ready?” She put her hand on the cast-iron ring that functioned as a handle.

“Could you...”

“Jerk you off before you go?”

“Yes?”

“No.” She giggled. “Oh dear, you’re such a man through and through! But I’ll give you this.”

With that she reached up, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me. Kissed me with the taste of sweet cake and thick whipped cream and strawberry jam. Then she looked at me and patted my cheek. “I like you, Jack. I really do. And I truly wish we’ll meet again.”

“Me too,” I said. I knew that when she disappeared I would feel terribly lonely.

“Good luck, Jack,” she said and opened the door.

I passed through the frame and stepped into the shadows of towering, lush trees.