The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Should we be worried that you can apparently do bitwise inversion of base sixty-nine strings off the top of your head?”

Jen’s first instinct was to turn and roll her eyes at Claire, but it was an urge she had to resist. She was getting better at working out these formulae, that was true. But she still knew that looking away from her calculations was probably a bad move.

“Sixty-four,” she answered, keeping most of her attention on a pad of paper filled with columns of numbers and letters. She was sure that she’d said the same thing herself a few days ago. Maybe commenting that it was strange to only need a cursory look at the list of codepoints on the back of her block of paper. Her housemate didn’t really understand what a hash function was, couldn’t have explained base sixty-four or any other number, and even if she tried, Jen couldn’t imagine the younger girl formulating a sentence that used the word ‘inversion’ on her own.

“Hmm? Oh, I must have been thinking about a different book.”

Jen blushed, and focused more closely on the numbers under her pen. She knew exactly which book her housemate meant, as well. And she knew that there was no malice in the reminder; Claire was just amused that strait-laced graduate Jen would have been the one to bring certain things into their house.

As she thought about that, Jen realised that she’d progressed from occasional glances at her lookup table, to not checking it at all. She could remember almost all the codepoints she needed off the top of her head. That meant she’d really been practising her advanced arithmetic skills, and she must be a lot more devoted to the formula than she’d initially been.

It shouldn’t have surprised her; she was bound to get better at the sums if she did them every morning for nearly a year. It wasn’t strange that she was getting better at it. It was no surprise that she could remember codes she’d looked up on a daily basis. If she really thought about it, she’d be sure that the only strange thing was how much this exercise was turning her on.

It wasn’t the mathematics itself that excited her. She was keen to point that out to herself in her thoughts, a reminder just in case anyone thought to ask why she was breathing so heavily. No, it was the thought of where they might lead. These calculations were nothing but a way of finding a random number, or a random pair of numbers, that would come out the same for every person who did the math on the same day. A random set of coordinates—the hash—where it might just be possible to meet another nerd who was sufficiently obsessed with randomness and probability to try the experiment. Jen had been to quite a few hash locations now, and found some scenic viewpoints or secluded nooks that she might otherwise never have known existed. But since early spring, something new had been added to the mix.

Something new was called Eric, and he was the reason there was a distinct damp patch in Jen’s pants each time she followed the algorithm, and each time she speculated optimistically about who she might meet at the hash today. Eric was amazing, and that was about all the information she’d shared with her housemates so far. They could have inferred that from the way she came home tongue-tied each time she was lucky enough to meet him, and the incoherent shrieks of delight coming from her room later in the evening as she relived the day’s events in her mind.

Claire was an unenthusiastic college dropout who was angling to become a trophy wife if her inheritance wasn’t enough to see her through life. Simon was a close friend who’d known Jen since they were both in college and looking to share a house for the first time. Both were good friends, insofar as Jen knew she could trust them to pay the rent on time and almost keep her secrets. But they weren’t that close. They knew she’d met this guy she thought was wonderful, but they probably thought she’d been too shy and pure to tell him what she really wanted. They thought that she was working herself up fantasising when she got home, her thoughts dwelling on a guy she’d only seen twice. They didn’t know that Eric had hypnotised her the first time they met; or that she had the words ‘Master’ and ‘Please’ written in marker on the inside of her thighs. They didn’t know that Jen would be unable to stop herself doing whatever Eric commanded, or that he’d compelled her to tell the truth and to admit what she wanted more than anything else. They never suspected that her true deepest desire was a feeling of humiliation, plain and simple.

As she ran through the calculations in her head, double-checking the working on the page before her, she could imagine that her friends had seen through her veil of secrecy, and that they might have guessed just how she was feeling.

The shame of thinking that someone might know was almost overwhelming. And that was what she craved, a desire that Eric understood like nobody else. That was why he was her Master now.

“Got it,” she grinned, and put her pen down on the coffee table beside all the calculations. Her cellphone had a mapping app, of course. They probably all did these days, it wasn’t some fancy top-of-the-range feature anymore. So she could just punch in the latitude and longitude, and the little screen would show her whether those numbers indicated a point where Eric might be found, or if today’s hash was too private, too dangerous, or too far out to sea.

Her luck might be in. There was a green splotch on the map, on the edge of a little village labelled ‘Bullockspeek’. She zoomed in a little and saw that the red flag on the map had appeared now the intersection of a country park, a golf course, a sports centre, and a memorial garden. She would just about to pinch to zoom in closer when she had a second thought. Eric didn’t like to use his phone for navigation, saying that it made the game too easy. He was probably the only person in the world using compass, pocketwatch, and sextant to track down the hash when the weather permitted it. And with so much green space around, maybe it was time for Jen to attempt the same. Not the complex trigonometry that Eric did, but she could go to this park and then try to find the right point without asking some fancy computer programme for directions. Just bring up her own coordinates on screen, compare to her destination and try to work out how far she’d need to walk to get there. And keep on trying until she found the right point. It would be a new part of the game, entertaining even if Eric didn’t show up.

Oh, but she hoped he did.

Some time around eleven in the morning, Jen was driving out towards Bullockspeek village. She hadn’t taken her bike today; she was already excited enough that the vibrations of that engine would have pushed her over the edge in no time.

On the way, she realised that she didn’t have a bag of shopping today. Both times she’d met Eric before, she’d had a bag full of produce that she hadn’t exactly chosen; and both times, he’d found something in the bags that could embarrass her in the most exquisite ways. But today, nobody had given her a shopping list to follow, and she had no purchases in the car that he could use instead. Maybe Eric would still have ideas of what he could do to her, she had no doubt about that. But she’d decided to call the man Master, and she felt that she’d be letting him down in some indefinable way if she didn’t at least attempt to provide some toys for his amusement.

Not to mention that there was something about randomness that had always intrigued her. Some kinky shenanigans inspired by the shopping choices of a completely oblivious source, or chosen at random, gave a little thrill. Just because she had no idea what might happen, and because she was a firm believer that a little randomness could be the inspiration for so many wonderful things.

“That’s decided, then,” she said to herself, and turned into an out-of-town shopping park’s basement garage, just a dozen miles from her eventual destination. The plan was fermenting in her mind as she looked for a space to park, and by the time she found one she was almost certain. She would do her usual weekly shopping, just a day early. Some food for herself, and some things to share with Simon when he didn’t feel up to cooking after work. But today, as she searched the shelves of an unfamiliar supermarket, if she saw items with a special offer on, they would be added to her purchase. She decided that the mystery gifts would be the first things she saw flagged as half price, or with ¤6.00 off, or anything with a red banner proclaiming it to be only ¤9.99. Three offers, for a possibly three mystery items, and she was determined that when she saw those signs, she would buy the indicated items without worrying about what they might be.

Twenty minutes later she was heading back to her car. Her attempt at randomness hadn’t yielded anything inherently embarrassing this week, which would surely make more of a challenge for Master. The only remotely embarrassing thing in her bag was an underwear set that she’d seen and couldn’t resist. She probably shouldn’t have, but there wasn’t a rule against it. She’d been told by numerous people never to shop for food while drunk or hungry, and that seemed fairly rational advice if you wanted to avoid impulse buys. But oddly, nobody had ever warned her of the dangers of buying sexy lingerie while so horny she could barely think straight. Maybe that was a rule she’d have to add after today, but she couldn’t pass up something that would look so good. She ended up with a very nice pair of violet silk panties that probably involved less than a dozen square inches of fabric, and a considerable amount of black lace around the edges. Perfect to wear if she was hoping to surprise someone in a discreet location in the woods; and after last time, she would be in no way surprised if Eric ended up seeing as much of her as he desired.

Sitting in the car, she started to have second thoughts. If he saw the new underwear in her bag, and commanded her to change right where she was, that could only be an anticlimax. Clothes like this, she was sure, were designed to be revealed, and putting them on would never be the exciting part of the show. To make something like this work properly, she should be wearing them before she got to the hash. Just in case the man she wanted to show them to was waiting for her.

A furtive glance around revealed that there was nobody else moving nearby. Just Jen, sitting in her car, and innumerable empty vehicles. She was wearing a knee-length dark skirt today, in stiff cotton that might just expose her underwear if she bent over at the right angle. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing she could have chosen, because every time she thought about someone watching her, someone being able to see, it turned her on so much that she couldn’t think of anything else.

She’d wanted to look good for her Master. She didn’t even know if he would be there, if she’d be able to get to the hash location or if it would be on private land. But she had never dressed up for him before, and she wanted to impress. Wanted to do something to reward him for all the pleasure he’d given her. So a nice skirt and a tight top that showed off a little more skin than she was used to seemed like a perfect choice. And it meant that if she really wanted to, she could change her underwear sitting here, and probably nobody would see.

Probably. That was the important thing. Because there was always a chance that someone would be looking, the one person in sight who she hadn’t seen, and she would be exposing herself to a stranger without even knowing. She couldn’t change her mind though, not once she’d decided to impress Master. And knowing that there could be someone watching her without being seen, somehow that didn’t put her off at all. It just made it more exciting, and meant that she had a damp patch in her panties before she even got changed.

“For Master,” she whispered, lifting herself off her seat just a fraction and reaching under her skirt to pull the damp panties down. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, and that made it all the more thrilling.

No. What made this even more exciting was the knowledge that she was doing all this of her own free will. Knowing that anyone could see her turned her on, even if nobody ever saw. And knowing that she’d chosen to put herself in this situation made it even hotter. Even if she hadn’t. She knew that if he wanted to, Eric could have given her this whole scene to play out, and she’d never know the difference. That was a fantasy too strong to deny, knowing that she just didn’t have a choice in the matter. She didn’t know if it turned her on more to think that she was doing this to herself, or that she was a mindless puppet.

Maybe not knowing was the biggest thrill of all. All the arousal of two fantasies rolled together. And that was one more button that Eric knew just how to press.

Her new lingerie set came in a padded box for some reason, as if clothes were going to be damaged by rough handling. But that seemed to be the trend right now, a padded box for any luxury item, whether it was useful or not. It was a trend she was sure she’d never understand. Just like the X-Factor,

For a moment she thought about putting what she’d been wearing back in the box, but red cotton panties would never look right in that nest of padding and lace. She stuffed them in the door pocket instead, out of the way until she got home. The box went back into the shopping bag, because she wasn’t about to change her bra in the car. There wasn’t nearly enough elbow room.

Eventually, a shrink-wrapped BLT in one hand, she pulled away from the supermarket and its neighbourhood of discount stores, and headed towards the hash. After all the effort she’d put into her appearance today, she hoped more than anything that Eric would be there. She needed him now, needed to be told what to do. Needed to play that game again.

Coming up to the village, the sign said ‘Welcome to Bollocksfeel’ and ‘Please drive car fully’. The kids round here were about as imaginative as most of their kind, and had made a few quick modifications with black and white tape. Jen could see a couple of houses over the crest of the hill, but she wasn’t going into the village itself. She took the next left, and followed a track that grew steadily narrower, hedges on either side encroaching until she was desperately hoping that a car wouldn’t be coming the other way to make her back up. Maybe it would have been better to bring her bike after all, or to walk. But then, the patch of green on her map had been between this road and the village centre, so if there was nowhere to park she could always go around and try the other side.

The country park turned out not to be such a busy place. Jen gave up on dreams of hiding in the trees, only feet away from oblivious sunbathers who might find them at any moment. On the road there was a small battered sign, saying that Crook Woods had been renovated by a Lottery Nature and Heritage Fund Millennium Environment Project, but the sign itself looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a decade. Turning off the road there, she found a small parking area with weeds growing through the gravel, and just about space for three cars if they all parked carefully. There was nobody else there.

Three paths led between aging conifers, presumably the main part of the woods. Beside two of them there were letter-sized notice board mounted on rusting metal poles. One of them displayed a faded map, indicating with red dotted lines a circular walk around the woods. The map was faded to the point that none of the landmarks were legible. The second board had been washed to pure white by the relentless country sun, and the third was just a metal spike in the ground, rusted through or broken off by bored youth.

Jen considered cheating, using satellite navigation to tell her exactly where the hash was. But she resisted the urge, and called up an app on her phone. Latitude, longitude, and a red arrow pointing North. Still more technologically advanced than Eric’s chosen method, but a challenge compared to getting exact directions.

She walked along one of the paths at random, until she could no longer see the car behind her, and the sunlight was painted green by a dozen kinds of trees arching overhead. Then she compared the numbers on the screen to a slip of paper from her pocket, and tried to work out what it meant. Some mental arithmetic told her she was probably two hundred metres away, mostly to the east. Towards the village, then, but she already knew that. She kept on following the path a little longer, and checked again. A hundred and fifty metres, or something in that range. But this time to the southeast, where she’d wandered off course a little.

She checked her position four more times, slowly getting used to the relationship between her number of steps, and the number of degrees she might have travelled. Finally, she knew she was almost there.

This was where she started to get nervous. Because there was a fence in that direction, wooden boards with ivy crawling over them. She’d known that the green shape on the map was made up of several different locations, which she hadn’t zoomed in enough to see the exact arrangement of. And she had known that the point she was aiming for was somewhere near the middle, so probably near the boundary between the park and some other property. But she had no idea what was on the other side of that fence, and whether she would be allowed to enter. There was a chance she could scale the fence, but a short skirt and lacy top really weren’t the best attire for that kind of adventure.

Would she have to go back to the car and find somewhere to park around the other side of this green area? It was seeming more likely with each step. And then she noticed a track through the undergrowth, where weeds and wildflowers had been kicked through and stomped down by the people who regularly came to walk here. Presumably the area’s dog walkers, if the prints in the soft ground were any indication. This little path led behind a tree, where she was unsurprised to find a gap in the fence, where only a couple of horizontal planks marked the boundary as it passed over a tree stump.

There was a muddy boot print on the stump, and traces of leaf mold on the fence itself. It wasn’t uncommon, then, for people to take a shortcut over the fence here. And she was sure that her clothes wouldn’t prevent her from getting through, as long as she didn’t mind potentially exposing her new underwear to anyone who looked at the right time.

The thought was enough to make her blush, and she tried to keep it out of her mind as she clambered over the fence. And then she stopped, because she didn’t know if her quest was a failure after all. The dogs and their owners had left a well-trodden path, running along a space three feet wide between the tall fence and a solid wall. There were some planters out here, making this area look more like a garden than a nature preserve, but otherwise no sign of what this building might be. And if her estimates of the coordinates were right, the hash could only be somewhere inside.

Jen followed the path, hoping that the journey she’d put so much effort into didn’t turn out to be blocked by someone’s home. But that worry was proved unfounded when she reached a large window, stretching almost down to the ground, and glanced inside to see row upon row of shelves, and more books than she could count. She was almost sure that she’d be able to go inside now, and her suspicions were confirmed when she reached the front of the building, where there was a much more well-maintained car park, a large area of well-maintained ground, and a sign which declared ‘Buttockspeek Public Library’, with just one extra stroke of permanent marker presumably added by the bored young people of the village.

Jen looked down at her feet. There was some dirt on her boots, but not enough that she’d be worried about entering a shop. A glance through the automatic doors showed her that the library had tiled floors, which meant that any soil she brought in would be easily cleaned, but she was still a little nervous. She didn’t want to add to anybody’s workload. She could at least walk around the gravel path first, and see how close the library was to the village centre, in the hope that the mud would dry and fall off her shoes while she did so.