The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Hash

Part 5: #One #Home #Confession #Markers #Hope

“You’re glowing,” Simon grinned. “Happier than you have any right to be from just a shopping trip. Should I be congratulating you?”

“Hell yeah! I got to the hash today. And there was somebody else there to confirm it, as well. He’d used the easy calculator instead of running the maths himself, and made it like an orienteering challenge to get there with a compass, sextant, and a load of old gear I don’t even know the name of. Different kind of challenge, with the same goal.”

“That’s pretty cool. So you met someone as weird as you for once. Did you propose?”

“Hey! Just because… I mean… We were talking for less than two hours. We found the right spot and sat on a park bench, chatting while I filled in the mystery shopping forms.”

“Ahh, I wondered if you had one of those crazy shopping lists, or if you were just picking stuff at random. You’re not starting a family yet, then?” He held up one of the packets of markers, and Jen couldn’t suppress a giggle at that. “So, did you get a photo to prove you made it?”

“Yeah, of cou—No! Ohh, I can’t believe I forgot that!”

“And your boyfriend did too?”

“He’s not my… I mean, we just got carried away talking. We only ever met once. I didn’t even get his number,” Jenb realised she was starting to babble, but there was nothing else she could say without digging herself deeper. She’d met someone as part of a social experiment, and chatted for a couple of hours. There was nothing else she could say about it without being weird. She knew that Simon had probably been joking, a playful observation at how happy she seemed. But she really didn’t want to let him know how close to the truth his guess had come.

“You wish you did, though?”

Jen couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

“For once, I’m not going to tell you you’re crazy. If you’re so happy about spending time with a guy, then it might be worth meeting up again. That’s normal enough, by your standards, and I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Is there anywhere you might see him again? Like, did he mention where he works, or a favourite bar? If he’s local, do you know if you’re more likely to run into him at the deli or the gym?”

“I don’t even know what town he’s from,” she shook her head. “Could be anywhere. But… he said something about next time. If I keep doing the hashes, then… Am I crazy?”

“Doing a half hour of math on the off-chance of meeting someone? Yes. But when you know there’s a nice guy at the end of the rainbow, that might make it worthwhile. Is he a nice guy, or a cute guy?”

“I…” Jen found herself completely off balance at that question. It wasn’t a question that had crossed her mind. “Can’t he be both?” And then she buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the blush that was rising up inside her.

“Then you hit the jackpot. Good for you. But you got bits of tree in your hair, you should probably take a shower.”

Jen gasped and spluttered, protesting that nothing untoward had happened. She couldn’t deny that there was a little sand on her jacket, and her hands found a tiny leaf in her hair, that must have been dislodged from one of the trees on the tiny island. Simon chuckled and busied himself putting away the shopping Jen had left him, while she ran out of words to say and hurried back to her own room.

She was blushing again, her body felt like it was on fire. As much as she’d managed to calm down while chatting to Simon, the hint that he might think she’d got laid in some scenic nook brought her right back to wishing it had gone that way. She pulled off her shirt, and saw that the rubbery ink on her body hadn’t smudged at all. There was a faint image on the inside of her shirt, the mirror of the words she’d written on herself, so she thrust it straight into the laundry hamper. Then she looked down at the words—it seemed she could read them now—and remembered how helpless she’d felt, realising that she’d done so much without even realising it.

This was what she’d wanted all along. This was what she’d hoped Danny could do to her a few years ago, and there was no room in her mind for other thoughts now. She ran her fingers over the letters, and somehow being able to feel them as well as see them made them seem even more real. She was going straight in the shower, she told herself. She could wash the marks off her body, but she didn’t even know if there might be some residue left in her mind. Some magic words twisting what she saw, ready to take advantage of her whenever he wanted…

She imagined a phone call in the middle of the night. Finding herself getting out of bed, and sleepwalking to the door. Helpless, led down the street in just her underwear, to be ravished in some strange and exotic locale. It could happen at any time, without warning. And she might wake in the morning wiuth a wide grin on her face, but never realise why. That made it more thrilling, for sure. And the thoughts of the neighbours looking at her strangely, without even knowing how much they might have seen.

Eric wouldn’t do that. She knew that, she knew that he was one of the most trustworthy people she’d ever met. But that didn’t change the fact that he _could_, if that was what he wanted. And the possibility gave her enough excuse to let her fantasies run wild. She’d told herself she was ghoing to take a shower, but here she was lying back on her bed, one hand between her thighs as the other traced the rubbery outline of the ink on her chest. She pinched and squeezed, moving faster as her breating got faster. Normally she would have reached under the bed for a box containing some of her favourite toys. But she couldn’t pause now, she couldn’t wait. And the images in her mind, of Master leaning over her, were all the stimulation she needed. Every touch reminded her of his breath on her neck when he came close to whisper, the gentlest touch on the back of her hand. She could only imagine what he could do to her if he wanted her.

Groping her, squeezing, pressing himself against her, and thrusting so insistently. She’d try to say no, and her lips wouldn’t obey. He’d pull away and she would grasp him desperately, pulling him closer again and rising up to meet him. Desperate, helpless, needing to feel Master inside her no matter what. Unable to even think of stopping, every movement twice as intense as the last.

Jen screamed, and she couldn’t be sure if she’d called “Eric”, or “Master”, or just a wordless yell. Moments later, her thoughts started to come back. She breathed in deeply, her whole body drained by the exertion, and feeling better than she had for months. If he was that good in person.

Simon would have heard, of course. She hadn’t even thought of keeping quiet. Claire too, if she was home. Jen couldn’t stop blushing when she thought how her housemates might respond. But then, Simon had known her in college, and he’d probably heard much more. There was no reason to be so ashamed, not compared to some of the things she’d done back then. The only difference was that this time had been more intense, more real, in ways that wouldn’t make sense to anyone overhearing her.

She stood up on legs that felt like sacks of spaghetti, grabbed a couple of giant-size towels, and wobbled all the way to the bathroom. Today had been a very long day, a day of triumph, and she thought that just this once she deserved a chance to soak in the tub. It was an excuse, anyway, to make use of the foaming bath bombs and luxury muscle soak and aromatherapy bath oils that previous shopping lists had left piled up all around the edge of the room. She couldn’t imagine ever using the quantities that she’d been hired to buy, but just occasionally they could turn a simple bath into an evening luxury.

She let herself rest in the warm water for a long while, feeling relaxed and pampered while scented steam curled around her. The traces of leaves in her hair washed away easily, as did the words and drawings on her body. She found herself checking twice, running her hands over every incho of her skin to make sure they were all gone. Just because she couldn’t see them, that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Just like when she’d first drawn them, and hadn’t realised she was doing it. But she was sure enough that if she couldn’t feel them, and couldn’t see them, then there wouldn’t be anything stuck to her in places anyone else might see. Almost sure, but not sure enough to start those thoughts racing through her mind again. She told herself she wasn’t getting over-excited, she was just checking herself to make sure that she hadn’t left little fragments of gel-ink that she wouldn’t see. And this time, she had gathered her wits enough to bite down on the corner of a towel and keep her cries of passion from the rest of the house.

An hour later, Jen was lying on her bed again, unable to believe what had happened to her, and how much she was loving it. She hadn’t been this horny since college, and this time her desires were satisfied rather than blindly groping in the dark in search of someone who might want to give her what she needed. She didn’t have a real guy, there wasn’t an impossibly large cock thrusting into her. Eric was cute, but he wasn’t the ideal stud presented in many glamour magazines. He wasn’t overly muscular, or athletic, just kind of cute. But maybe all that stuff didn’t matter. She could have known years ago that it wasn’t the sex that really turned her on; that she’d enjoy herself more imagining that people might be able to see, or to hear, than thinking about the act itself. If she had to choose between great sex, and hypnotic suggestions that she couldn’t resist, then she would have sworn off dicks in an instant.

That was the moment of truth. She knew that the physical act of love hardly mattered. It was what a guy could make her feel that mattered, and that was where Eric was pressing all the buttons. He might not even have known what kind of effect he was having on her; but he knew how to make her squeal. The time on that little island had been beyond belief. The blushes that had colonised her face on the way home were exquisite. And this evening, Eric might not even have anticipated that, but it was still everything Jen could ever want.

She knew she had to find him again. Had to keep on visiting the hashes. She’d calculate the coordinates every morning, not just on the days she had a half hour free. She would be dedicated, obsessive even, and maybe travel a little farther afield. If she could meet that man again then everything would be worthwhile.

And while she waited, she could make sure she remembered. She could dive into those recollections anytime, or fantasise about the things hew hadn’t done to her yet. And she could…

As soon as she had the idea, she knew it was right. She knew it was her thought as well, because it was exactly the kind of thing that appealed to her. But she could imagine it was a command from Eric, an urge he’d said she would have the next time she was lying naked on a thick plush towel on her bed.

She reached out to the packet of markers, which she’d decided against leaving with the rest of the shopping in case Simon felt the need to make any comment about them. Just to save her from ridicule, not because she was thinking about using them for anything. The first pen she pulled out was red-orange, with a scent that reminded her of exotic spices and desert air. Something some people might wear as a perfume. It wouldn’t arouse any suspicion. So she grasped the thick, knobbly handle firmly and wrote one more little memo. On the inside of her thigh, where she was sure nobody would ever see.

«’Master’» she wrote. «’Please’»

Every day, until they could meet again, she was sure that the words would help her to remember what she was striving for; the treasure at the end of her random adventure.