The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 25

My boy was crying and begging me to fuck him and I gave him what he wanted; he’d earned it after all. I unsnapped my soft leather codpiece, freeing my needy fuck pole and plunged it into his pulsing ring. As I pumped into his grasping, hungry cunt I reached around his body and grasped his hard tits, and used them as control knobs to get him to tighten down on my rampant dick. Each time I squeezed and twisted them, he would clamp down harder, taking me closer and closer to the edge. I could also feel his pelvic sling rocking and rolling as my fucking took him farther and farther along. When I felt the ecstasy beginning to gather power in my loins, I released his nubs and took hold of his cock with both hands, pumping it in rhythm with my thrusts. As the thrill launched itself from the base of my spine and shot up my nerve network to push my brain into orbit, I shouted “Come!” and felt my boy’s orgasm send him over the edge, launching him into space too. We shouted together and I felt his firm, throbbing cock pump once, twice, three times. Each time I tightened my grip and pulled on his penis; it felt as though I were pulling on my own, so direct was the connection from his cock to his ass sphincters. I milked him; he squeezed and milked me. He shuddered and moaned as I continued to pull him until he collapsed on the table and I went down on top of him. We lay there moaning and panting while I kept working his dick, savoring the clutching of his tight rings of muscle each time I massaged his penis. I raised myself off his back and pulled out of his clinging circle of flesh. He whimpered and moaned quietly, still trying to catch his breath. “Thank You Sir,” he husked. “Thank You Master.”

“C’mon boy,” I said and tried to pull him upright, but he collapsed to his knees.

“Please Sir,” he gasped.

“What’s the problem slave?”

“Master, Your boy needs a moment to get his legs back.”

“Can you crawl boy?” I asked.

“Yes Sir. At least Your boy thinks he can crawl.”

“Alright then; you can crawl. Into the bathroom.” I took the end of the leash, which was still attached to the collar around his neck, and led him down the hall to the bathroom, where I began to fill the tub with warm water. I didn’t want it to be too hot because he might have been scalded with his backside having just been through a beating. It was bright pink as it was. No need for extra heat. I put some fizzy bath tablets into the water and it began to bubble and foam, releasing a pleasing pine fragrance into the air. While the water was running, I removed my harness, boots and jock and looked at my slave as he crouched there on the floor on all fours, his head hanging down with exhaustion; his back with bright red streaks across it.

When the tub was full, I unbuckled his collar and took one of his hands. “C’mon Patrick. Lean on me. Let’s get into the tub.” He groaned loudly and staggered to his feet. I tried to avoid touching his flaming back while I helped him to his feet but when one of his legs gave way, I grabbed for him and put an arm around his back.

“Owwww!” he cried. “Oh God that hurts.”

“I know. C’mon Patrick. Into the tub and it’ll start to feel better.” He was making soft whimpering sounds of pain as I helped him into the tub. When he had climbed in, he settled down on one of the ledges and gingerly eased himself back to lean against the side.

I climbed in opposite him and leaned back, looking at his flushed, glowing face. “You made me proud Patrick. You took it like a man and went all the way with me,” I said. His face flushed even brighter with pride and he beamed like a schoolboy who’d just seen his report card was straight A’s. I added “It reminded me of my first time.”

His blue eyes opened and he looked at me quizzically. “Your first time? You’ve been beaten like this? You were a slave?”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “It was a long time ago.”

“And? What happened? How long did it last?”

“It’s late Patrick. Can I tell you tomorrow?”

“I suppose it’s really not my place to ask you to tell me. But you know I’d like to know.”

“I know,” I said. “For now, let’s just say that I had to learn what I know. Sometimes you have to learn by experience. Let’s leave it at that. I’ll tell you tomorrow because I want you to know. OK?”

“OK,” he said, looking tired.

“Anyway, I think I need to get you to bed pretty soon,” I said and rose from the tub. “You stay here a minute. I’ll be right back.”

I went to the living room and poured a couple of glasses of port and returned to the bathroom. “Here you go,” I said, handing him a glass and a couple of ibuprofen tablets. He threw the pills back and swallowed them as is, before sipping the fortified wine. He began to look less drawn. We slowly savored the port and let the water soothe away the energy of the scene we’d just been through. When Patrick had finished, I took the glass from him and we got out of the tub. We dried off and we went to bed.

“Can I ask just one question?” Patrick said quietly as we entered the bedroom.“Sure,” I answered.

“What happened to your Master? Why aren’t you with him anymore? Or is there something you haven’t told me?”

I looked into his questioning eyes and then looked away. “He died,” I answered softly, my voice catching. “AIDS. It was years ago, before we knew anything. All I could do was help him die.” I heard the bitterness in my voice and my eyes filled and once again, I was choked with frustration. So many years and you’d think I’d be over it. But I don’t think I’ll ever be over it; over him, as long as I live.

Patrick brushed the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs and kissed me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, it’s OK,” I said, recovering my composure. “It’s like being whipped. It hurts but the pain feels good.”

He smiled gently. “I understand,” he said and pulled me toward him and toward the bed.

We fell together, clothed only in our love, our bodies entwined, his clasped to mine and my cock between his legs. Soon, I heard and felt his regular, relaxed breathing as he drifted off to sleep. I lay there holding him to me, holding on for life because I didn’t think I could stand to lose him too and I was so afraid I would. I kissed the back of his neck and once again, my eyes filled with tears. “My love,” I murmured as my eyes closed and was overcome by sleep.

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 26

When I awoke, it was rather dark. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 9:18 already. Mark was still asleep, snoring softly. I stroked the hair on his head, taking in his masculine strength. The hair flowing over his chest through which his brown nipples stood like volcanic cones. I leaned down and licked the left one, circling the aureole with the tip of my tongue, feeling the ring clashing lightly against my teeth and drawing a sleeping moan from my lover. I’d have to talk with Mark about getting my own tit pierced. Then I softly kissed his lips and got out of bed.

I put water and coffee in the coffee maker and, after turning it on, stood by the counter looking out on the city. There was a dark overcast and rain splattered irregularly against the windows. And I thought of Sarah. Suddenly, I felt dizzy and weak. I found a chair and sat down. What was I doing? Why was I here? I’m a married man. What’s happened to me? What was I thinking? People like me didn’t do things like this. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

Just then, Mark walked into the kitchen clad in a robe. “Good morning baby!” he said happily. Then he saw I was sitting there with my face in my hands and came and knelt next to me. “What’s the matter baby? Are you sick? Tell me what’s wrong,” he implored.

I groaned.

“Patrick? Tell me,” he insisted.

“Oh Mark, what are we doing? I have a wife and kids. What am I thinking?” He took my head in his hands and lifted my face, searching my features for something.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” he said.

I looked into his blue eyes; I looked at his mouth, his nose, his strong chin with a night’s beard growth covering it and then back to his eyes. My own eyes stung and began to fill. “I-I…” I choked up. “I don’t know what I think. I love my wife; I love my kids. I’d never want to hurt them. They’re my world.” The tears spilled down my cheeks, leaving hot trails. “But I love you too. I can’t imagine not being with you. What’re we going to do? What’ve I done to my family? What’ve I done?” I sobbed and crumbled into his strong arms.

Mark stroked my head and whispered in my ear “It’s alright. It’s alright. We’ll be okay. It’s alright.”

I could see only two possibilities: my family coming apart or my never seeing Mark again. Both hit me like blows in the gut and I was wracked with sobs. I cried and cried, collapsing onto the floor as Mark held and comforted me. Finally, I was cried out and raised myself on my arms to look at him. I saw his face was streaked with tears too and my heart melted. “Oh Mark,” I said. “I’m sorry to do this. I’m so sorry.” And I leaned forward to kiss the tears from his face.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, wiping his face. “I’ve been so afraid this would happen! I should never have started this. It was foolish.”

“No!” I said. “Don’t say that! I-I... I’m glad you did, at least I think so. I’m glad this has happened. It’s just going to be hard...” I really felt a little confused but I felt like I wanted to reassure Mark. Was that fear? Fear that he’d never see me again if I questioned him or let him know I was confused? He looked at me searchingly.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “it will be hard. But we’ll think better with some food in our stomachs. Come on. Let’s get some breakfast.”

Mark rose, pulled me to my feet and led me to the kitchen. We made toast, eggs and bacon and sat down at the table, eating; each lost in our own thoughts. As I thought about this mess, the thought that had been nagging at me, but which I’d suppressed suddenly jumped to the front of the queue. “Mark?” I blurted out.

“Yes baby?”

“Mark, what did you do to me? I mean: did you make me gay? Did you change me? Did you make me a bottom?”

Mark looked at me tenderly, his blue eyes shining as though he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. After several moments he spoke quietly. “No,” he said. “You really can’t do that. I mean you can get a straight man to engage in homosexual activity, but you can’t make him gay. Even in a deep trance, he’ll know what he’s doing and hate it and hate you for doing it to him.”

“I see,” I answered.

“The first time I hypnotized you, my intention was to maybe have some fun and then have you forget it all through use of a memory block. Actually, it’s not all that hard since it takes time and repetition to commit an event to memory anyway. So you just block access to it and it never gets laid down in memory. It’s like it never happened.”

“Sort of like a temporary file,” I smiled.

“Exactly!” he said, smiling at my analogy. “And because our memory is largely sequential and event-related, I can suggest alternate memories that will lead you to think that something happened other than what actually did.”

“I understand,” I said.

We sat there in silence for a few moments. “But you didn’t do that did you? You didn’t give me an alternate set of memories. I know because there are gaps in my memory. Those gaps are times I was with you.”

Mark just looked at me for several moments. “No,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t and I didn’t. Oh I know I was wrong to have done it in the first place. I should never have done it. I could lose my license for doing something like that. Although I’m not a practicing hypnotist, it was still a breach of medical ethics to take advantage of a patient, regardless of the means used. For that, I’m really sorry Patrick. It was wrong of me and I’ll never do it again. Can you forgive me?”

I nodded. “I forgive you Mark,” I said quietly, knowing that there was more he wanted and needed to say.

“But that first morning, I came into the room and there you were! I mean, my God! I’ve admired you ever since they did that magazine article on you and featured you on the cover!” Mark picked up my left hand and fingered my wedding band, his eyes filled with longing.

“I remember that,” I said, adding “Sarah liked the photo too.”

“Well, I’ve always had a thing for red-heads and I just flipped for you. And then you walked into my office looking for help. I guess I just went after you without considering the consequences. And then...”

He paused so I prompted him. “What?”

“Well, what I found out was that you were bi-sexual and relatively comfortable with that. Then I found out something else...”

“What?” I demanded.

“I found out I loved you...”

There was a long pause. “I-I don’t know what to say,” I finally answered.

“Then I knew I had to do the most difficult thing of all... I had to let you go. I wanted you; I want you so badly. But I can’t just take you. You’re a husband and a father; you love your wife and children. It would be so wrong of me to just take you. It would be unloving and undisciplined. I had to let you go.”

“But did you?” I asked, incredulous. “I had a compulsion to come see you again, to call you.”

“The first couple of times, yes. You were acting on my post-hypnotic suggestion. But at your second session, I removed all suggestions that would cause you to contact me. I left it up to you. All I left you with was the knowledge that you are bisexual and that being bisexual is alright, which you already knew. And I left you with the knowledge that you loved me. With that, I let you go because I knew I had to let you decide. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when you called again. The morning you came to see me; to tell me that you loved me, I really thought I might die with happiness. All those questions; but I don’t care. I could die happy now, knowing that you’ve loved me.”

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 27

I looked into Patrick’s beautiful blue eyes, knowing I’d just put my heart on the table in front of him. Almost unconsciously, I held my breath. He sat there for what seemed a very long time, saying nothing but I could tell he was working on it all.

Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet mine. “I still do,” Patrick said, his eyes shining and I was able to exhale. “I think I’m going to have to talk to Sarah though.”

“What are you going to tell her?” I asked, my voice rising, momentarily panicked. From what I’d seen, such a revelation could be disastrous.

“First off, I need to tell her I’m bisexual,” he said, obviously previewing the conversation in his mind. In this moment, Patrick was a CEO: his mind was playing out the possible scenarios and selecting the most likely directions events would go as he worked through the way to get them to go where there would be the best outcome. I also knew that he wasn’t just concerned about what would be good for Patrick; he cared for and loved his wife and children far too much to be selfish with his life.

“I think,,, I think...” Patrick said slowly. “I think Sarah will be okay in the end.”

“Okay? Okay with what? What the hell are you talking about? What’re you thinking?” I was getting a little frustrated that I couldn’t read his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick laughed, looking at me and smiling. “I wasn’t explaining anything was I?”

“No!” I exclaimed. “What’re you thinking?”

“I will tell Sarah that I’m bi. That will be the start. She’ll be upset naturally. But we’ll talk that through and work it out. Sarah’s a very liberal person; in a lot of ways more liberal than I am.”

“But this isn’t politics Patrick; this is her marriage.”

“I know that,” he said. “But she’s also very pragmatic and she knows me really well. She knows I’d never try to hurt her or the kids and that I’d never leave them.”

“But how well does she know you if she doesn’t know you’re bi? Even you didn’t know it.”

“Well,” Patrick said slowly, “that might be true. But I think she’s had her suspicions. In fact, she asked me if there was someone else a little while after I started seeing you. I denied it of course, but I think she still thinks there’s something going on.”

“And so you think she’ll just say ‘oh, that’s fine. My husband’s bisexual and I’ll let him do what he wants’?”

“No, that’s not what I think!” Patrick answered a little angrily. “I said it will be tough. But I think she’ll give her blessing in the end. I just have to convince her that it’s not going to destroy her life.”

“And how will you do that?” I asked. I was getting impatient with him because I wasn’t at all sure Patrick had a good idea of how Sarah might react to this revelation. Sometimes husbands underestimate the impact of this news on their wives. I’d seen it before with some of my patients and it wasn’t always pleasant and amicable. Then again, it wasn’t always World War III either.

Patrick grinned at me, his eyes crinkling and sparkling. “I had a professor in graduate school. Sarah knew him too. He had come out to his wife after a several years of marriage and a child. They had come to agree on an arrangement where he spent the weekdays with her and weekends with his lover. His lover was actually part of the family; the kids knew him and loved him like an uncle. And yes, the kids knew about their father’s relationship with his lover. That came later, of course, as they were able to understand, but it was all very upfront.”

I was speechless; I’d never heard of such a thing. “And his wife was fine with that?” I asked incredulously.

“Apparently it took them some time to work it out but yes, in the end, she was fine with it. She was very fond of her husband’s lover and especially glad that her husband was a happier, more complete human being when he was fully himself.”

I was going to have to ponder that one a while. I just shook my head and bit into my toast.

“Mark?” Patrick asked, clearing his throat and looking at me directly, “did you make me a bottom? Did you make me want to be beaten? I mean, I never had the least inclination toward such things before I met you?”

“What do you think?” I asked him. “Look inside yourself and tell me what you see.”

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed and I could almost see the gears turning. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me with the strangest look on his face—quizzical, bemused and accusing all at the same time. “No, I can see that you didn’t. I understand now why I felt the things I felt as a boy. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it. And you’re the one who showed me the way.”

“But?” I asked, knowing there was something else.

“But why does it have to hurt so much to get to the other side?” he implored, his face reflecting some of the pain he’d experienced last night and perhaps prefiguring the pain he would experience; we all would experience before this was over.

“Would it be trite if I said ‘no pain—no gain?’” I laughed.

He chuckled and said “No, it would be true. Once I’d gone there, it felt so good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my love,” I said, swallowing my coffee. “But I’m not sure we’vereached the end of the pain yet,” I said, raising my eyes to meet his. I saw him blanch.

“Yes, I know,” he said slowly and drained his cup.

We finished breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen. When everything was put away, Patrick came up behind me as I stood at the counter and pressed himself against my back. He reached around and pulled my robe open, groping my cock and balls while sliding his left hand up to my chest to fondle and squeeze my nipples. I looked down at his left hand with that wide gold band on it, strong, masculine, handsome fingers with well-groomed nails and my cock was filled with warmth. Wedding bands always have that affect on me. I moaned softly and placed his left hand in my mouth, sucking on the finger with the ring on it, feeling its warm hardness against my teeth.

Patrick whispered in my ear “would you fuck me Mark? I’d really like you to fuck me and watch you while you do it.”

I murmured softly, grinding my butt against his crotch. I took his hand from my mouth and squeezed it. “You’re such a pushy bottom,” I chuckled. “And just to teach you a lesson, yes, Patrick, I will fuck you while you watch me.” I spun around and took him in my arms, ravishing him with my mouth, thrusting my tongue into his orifice and fencing with his tongue. Then I moved down his neck, kissing and biting him and sanding his pink skin with my beard. His cock rose in answer and we both began to moan and grunt like dogs in heat.

We moved to the living room and I pushed him down onto the couch. “Stay!” I commanded. A look of disappointment flashed across his face so I quickly added “Please?”

He gave me a relieved smile. “Sure,” he said and lay back after arranging the cushions to prop himself up.

I went to the bedroom to get lube, condoms and a couple of pieces of essential equipment before returning to the living room, drinking in the site of his pale, smooth yet muscular body. I lowered myself to kneel beside the couch and began to run my hands over his warm, glowing flesh. “I think it might be a good idea to stop shaving yourself for a while.”

“Why?” he asked. “I thought you wanted your boy to be smooth.”

“Well I do,” I answered. “But I also like to shave my boy. That’s part of the fun.”

He grinned. “I understand Sir. Yes Sir. I hear and obey.”

I just grinned back at him. “I’m sorry I barked at you before. I could see you were looking for loving, not discipline.”

He just smiled. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize it’d showed.”

“Un huh—There isn’t a lot you can hide from your doctor,” I said, firmly palpating his belly. He groaned and pulled his legs up a bit to absorb the compression. “Good,” I said, slipping up onto the couch and positioning myself between his legs. “That trick works every time.” I parted my robe and fell between his bent legs and began to devour his firm pink nipples, chewing and suckling them. I circled the aureoles with my tongue and cupped each point in the valley I formed with my tongue, much as a puppy nursing at its mother’s teat. While I was working Patrick’s nipples, I reached down between his legs and lightly stroked his perineum and worked down to his pink lips which waited eagerly for their prince to come and make them open themselves to him.

Patrick was moaning and whimpering as he rolled his head, filled with the pleasure of my loving touch. After several minutes of warming him up, I raised myself off his body. “Lift your legs Patrick,” I said and he happily complied. Then I took the tube of KY and inserted the end into his ass, squeezing a good dollop inside him. I recapped the tube and tossed it over his head onto the floor before inserting my fingers into his eager ass lips to spread the lubricant around. As I worked the slick stuff in, he closed his eyes and began to pant slowly. I could feel his sphincters clutching my hand, hungry to have more. While I was still hand fucking him, I said “Patrick? Earth to Patrick.”

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It just feels so good.”

“Well you’re about to get the prize but you need to clothe me first,” I said and nodded toward the condoms sitting on the coffee table. His eyes said “Oh yeah!” and he reached over to pick up one of the raincoats. He tore the package open with his teeth and rolled the safe over my at-the-ready column of flesh. When he’d finished, I scooted myself up so that my thighs were against him and rolled his legs back, exposing his hole. I took my cock and eased it in. Patrick drew a quick breath at the first breaching of his ring of muscle and I slid in a bit further. He was experienced enough to know how to breath and relax until, feeling his inner barrier relax, I slid all the way home until my soft and silkies were touching his pink ass.

I waited a moment until I felt him completely relax and saw his spine settle, telling me he’d completely adjusted to my mass. Then I reached into the pocket of my robe and pulled out a couple of pairs of cloverleaf tit-clamps. Each pair was joined by a chain. Since we’re both tit-pigs, I thought this would be an ideal way for us to get the pectoral stimulation we’d be looking for while leaving our hands free for other things. “Here,” I said, handing him one pair, “attach one of these to your right tit and the other to my left.” Patrick looked at me questioningly then knowingly. He pinched his right tit, squeezed the clamp open and let it close over the fleshy part of his tit, well behind the tip. While he was doing that, I grabbed hold of his left nub, flattened it between my thumb and finger and applied the clamp. He moaned and writhed as I took the chains and pulled his hard cones away from his chest. Then I used my finger nails to rough up the tips of his nipples which were protruding between the jaws of the clamps. That caused Patrick to start humping me, rubbing his cock against my belly in the heat of his desire.

Now it was my turn. I squeezed my right tit and attached the clamp that connected to Patrick’s left nipple while he worked my left, applying the clamp that was joined to his right. When both were secured, I reared back, pulling on the chains that connected us, stretching our pecs away from our ribcages and causing us both to spiral upward into nipple ecstasy.

Patrick took my clamped tits between his fingers, stroking the little bulges of sensitive brown flesh that stuck out to the sides of the clamp pads, pushing me even further into bliss. Everything was, for that moment, focused on my tits. I was a tit-slave to him and would have done anything he asked. And ask he did: “Mark, I want you. Please fuck me now!” he demanded gently.

“So you’re ready my love?” I asked him.

“Do me,” he said, and reached up to grab his legs and pull them back to give me easy access.

I began slowly, savoring the warmth of Patrick’s grasping bowels. He hummed tunelessly, gripping me and pulling me deeper as his eyes became unfocused in bliss. His focus was deep inside himself and he breathed deeply in rhythm with my slow strokes. Each time the corona of my penis passed over his prostate, he moaned deep in his belly, voicing the pleasure in which he was enthralled and sending waves of vibration through his abdomen and into my stretching penis. Each of those strokes made his fingers, still on my clamped nipples, clench, taking me deeper into my own enthrallment. We were locked together in a symbiosis of need and fulfillment.

I wanted it to last all day, but knew that was impossible. Nevertheless, I hoped to prolong this joy for a while and forced myself to stop a moment. I leaned down, the chains linking us clattering as they piled up on top of themselves, and kissed Patrick’s parted lips.

“Oh Mark,” he whispered huskily, “please don’t stop. This is too wonderful. God, how I want you!”

“My love,” I said between kisses, “you were meant for me and I for you.” With my lips still locked on his, our breath mixing in our mouths, I began again, slowly thrusting, feeling his hips rise and fall in synchronization with my movements. As the need built, I raised myself up again to get a better angle and increase the tension on our heaving chests.

As my tempo picked up, I began panting and grunting as Patrick launched into a steady patter: “Oh yes, please, please, fuck me. Ahhh, Yes, uuunnnhhh, yes, yes. Fuck me. Oh, oh, oh.”

His cries urged me on. “Soon Patrick. It won’t be long.” He took that as a signal to begin pumping his own cock. Patrick’s one of those who loses his erection when he’s penetrated but turns all that energy inward. I could tell by the way he clenched at my cleaving cock that he was riding the wave higher and higher. He began panting too and I could feel him beginning to spasm. As I reached the point of no return, his pelvis was gripped by a contraction that compressed my penis so hard it almost hurt. We both shouted with animal cries that resounded through the room as I pumped my semen into him. His own seed shot out of his firm but not erect dick and hit him in the mouth. The next shot landed on his chest. His contractions were so vigorous that he raised his ass off the couch and lifted me too while I was coming inside him. My pulsing cock prolonged his orgasm beyond mine and as I strove to breathe, I looked down at his face, screwed up in the overwhelming pleasure of an orgasm that comes from within.

I knew how that felt; I could remember it. I felt a momentary pang because I knew I wanted that too and the only way to get it was to bottom. The question was; who would top me?