The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Hash

Part 9: #Two #Woodland #Suggestions #Realism #SixtyNineShades

“Huh?” Jen murmured. Something had woken her, and she wasn’t quite sure what it had been. She was so comfortable, surely it could wait a couple of minutes. She didn’t need to open her eyes just yet.

“I said, are you refreshed and awake?” Eric’s voice came from somewhere behind her head. She nodded slightly, and wondered what he was doing in her room. She didn’t remember inviting him yet. And then reality rushed back as she forced lethargic eyes to open, and saw a green canopy against a pastel sky above her.

She reached down and found that she was laid on a blanket of some kind, across an old fallen tree trunk. It was certainly not her bed, but comfortable enough that it was reasonable to have taken a few seconds to note the differences.

“You okay?” Eric’s voice seemed a little concerned now.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. Just feel so good, it’s amazing. Like I’ve had the best night’s sleep in my life, and I don’t want to wake up yet. Have you bee whispering dreams to me?”

“Something like that. And I’ve got a little gift for you, if you’re interested.”

That got Jen back to the land of wakefulness. She quickly stood up from the improvised bed, and noticed that her blanket must have been Eric’s. She’d seen the pattern poking out of his backpack before, so that must mean he always came prepared. Once they were both standing, he picked it up and folded it over twice to make sure that any leafmold was inside before rolling it and returning it to his bag.

“A present?”

“Well, not so much a present, as it’s already yours. But you might be interested to see what I’ve done with it.” He stooped just a little to take something from the top of Jen’s shopping bag, and presented it to her.

“Sixty-nine Shades of Gay,” she read the title aloud, trying not to be too distracted by the licentious images on the cover. She could feel the shame building inside her, just from knowing that Eric had caught her reading something as puerile as the news made this book out to be. “You did something?”

She opened the cover, but there were no extra gifts hidden between the pages, and it looked just the same as the first time she’d opened it. The first paragraph of the first chapter was centred, which she’d thought was a strange choice when she opened it the first time. And while the situations described in those words were undeniably erotic, Jen had found that the odd metaphors had made it hard for the story to really grip her. There were descriptions that could make her blush and laugh in equal measure. Right there in that opening paragraph, the first thing a reader would see to introduce them to this world, it described someone named Amantha having nipples “hard as unshelled peanuts, and almost as sensitive as the unshelled penises of Dirk and Bart.

Amantha reached one hand up to her chest, and brushed across one nipple with her thumb. She couldn’t help gasping at the contact. When Dirk gently pinched the other nipple between his fingertips, the sound in her throat turned into a loud moan and she threw her head back like a wolf in heat. She knew one touch wouldn’t be enough. She couldn’t stop now. Ever since she’d decided to implant herself in the lives of these two muscular lumberjacks, her life had been building up to this moment. She recovered her voice just long enough to whimper “Please!”, and she knew that they’d heard.

She felt Bart’s hand on her hip, and his thigh between hers. She looked down into eyes as blue as the ocean, and didn’t need to look down to see the size of his cock, just as ready as she was.

His fingers were rough and calloused, but their movement was gentle as they traced a curve across her thigh and then darted down to open her lips ready for the main event. One knuckle touched her clit, and Amantha almost exploded on the spot. But when she felt Bart guide his thick shaft slowly into her, all the pleasure she’d felt before paled into insignificance. He was huge, even larger than he’d looked, and her whole awareness was concentrated on that titanic manhood, moving deeper with each gentle thrust.

She knew that—

“Fuck!” Jen gasped, struggling to calm her racing heart. “What just happened?”

“I assume that’s a good ‘fuck’,” Eric answered. “When you read the book, you’ll feel all the things the main character does. Or the things done to her, which might be of more interest.”

“Oh God,” Jen was still finding it hard to get her words out. “I mean, I was horny before. But now I feel like I’m right in the middle of… two gay lumberjacks… I mean…”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Jen just nodded. Stringing words together in her current state of mind seemed like too much effort. It wasn’t her who’d just had a monstrously thick cock inside her. That honour belonged to a fictional interior designer with a strange obsession with getting involved with gay couples. But it had felt real, and in the moment it took her to read the first few lines, she’d been right there with them. Having those sculpted bodies ripped away so quickly, when she was sure an earth-shattering orgasm was only minutes away, seemed like the most terrible kind of torture.

She could just look at the book again and she’d be lost in the fantasy. It would be so easy, but would that be leaving Eric disappointed? Or did he like to watch a young woman having the time of her life?

“Did you know,” she forced the words out. “Did you know that book starts with a sex scene?”

In medias res? I think it would have been obvious from your first shout. But as it happens, yes, I’m familiar with the book in question. I knew one of the guys who worked on it, which is why I’m confident there’s nothing in it that you wouldn’t want to experience.”

The words ran past Jen like a river. She could take in what Eric was saying, but it didn’t seem to matter that much right now. She wanted so much to get back into the book, to find out how all the colourful euphemisms translated into actual sensation. And to feel herself sandwiched between two loving bodies.

“Would you like some time to read?” Eric offered. “Or we could talk, and save the reading until you get home. Or if you’re feeling adventurous, I think there might be a few scenes in there we could play along with while you read. It could be an interesting experiment.”

“Don’t leave me hanging like this,” Jen gasped. “No woman could take being interrupted in the middle of that. But you mean… while I’m feeling Dirk doing those things, you could do it for real? Would I feel it as well?”

“I don’t know exactly how it would work. This isn’t actually something I’ve tried before. But I’m sure it would be fun to find out. Maybe skip ahead to chapter twelve, if you trust me to make that kind of choice for you.”

Jen didn’t answer, she didn’t have the breath. But she leafed through the pages, trying to only notice the chapter headings. Every word she caught a glimpse of as she turned the pages only turned her on more, and it was a fight to stop her eyes from following each word she noticed to the end of the sentence. Somewhere between the pages, she became aware that she’d asked how it would feel if Eric pounded her in the ass while she was reading, and skipped over the question of whether they were ready to go that far. Maybe he’d take it for granted that she wanted him, if she hadn’t thought the question worth raising. But she could feel the blush rising again—and the arousal that always followed it—when she realised how easily she was giving herself to him.

Chapter twelve. It looked like Amantha was outdoors this time, looking over the treetops from a high viewpoint. In the middle of nowhere, she was sure she wouldn’t be disturbed as she tried to take note of all the colours in the landscape around her. She was still trying to resist her instincts, both the ones that pushed her to jump on her client every time he came into the room, and the ones that told her that her natural talents were good enough to skip most of the guidelines she’d learned in college.

She was being good today. She wasn’t trying to seduce the delectable Dirk, and she wasn’t laying down sketches of rooms decorated in the colours her instinct called for. She was looking at the surroundings, where all the timber ornaments in the lumberjacks’ cosy cottage had come from. She was picking the colours that appeared naturally in the landscape, and fitting them into a grid from which she would create the optimal palette for the room. It was time-consuming, she knew, but that was good for her as well. Because the longer it took her to compose her initial set of seventy colours, and then to pare those down to the ones that would appear in her final choices for paints and soft furnishings, the longer it would be before she had to leave this idyllic corner of the wilderness.

And right now, Amantha really didn’t want to go home. Even out here, with a million greens and browns arrayed in front of her eyes beneath a duck-egg sky, the only shade she could think of was 2294a, the pale-chocolate of Dirk’s abs.

“Looks like someone’s enjoying herself,” a voice purred from just behind her. A female voice, in a valley she had been sure contained only her two employers. Her head jerked around to see a beautiful young woman, probably in her early twenties, with immaculately styled black hair that reached almost down to the ground.

“I’m not…” Amantha gasped, trying to think of any excuse that would justify being found at a scenic viewpoint, staring into space with one hand under her skirt. There was none, and she stammered for the right words, trying to find anything that could make this scene less humiliating.

The mystery woman leaned forward, and pressed her lips hard against Jen’s. Her breath smelled of apples, and a complex concoction of spices that just had to come from hard cider. The hand that gripped the back of Amantha’s head was forceful, but the tongue forcing itself between her lips was oh so gentle, waiting for a gesture of acceptance as subtle as parting her teeth just a fraction. And her mind already spinning with arousal, with forbidden thoughts she would never be able to admit, Jen couldn’t imagine resisting. She pushed back and deepened the kiss, one hand wrapping itself around the strange woman’s waist while the other grasped the side of the bench to let her keep her balance.

“Who are you?” she managed to gasp when they finally parted enough to take a breath.

“I don’t do names,” the girl smirked. “And I usually take a low opinion of any college tramp trying to steal my brother’s husband.”

“I’m not!” she protested, “I mean…”

“Don’t deny it, girl. I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’ve seen the same look in the mirror. The way your eyes say you’ve got to have him, and nothing else matters. But I’m not warning you off, girl. Because you remind me of me. When I was younger and more innocent, even though you got a good few years on me.”

“I don’t want to come between—”

“Oh, yes you do. Don’t deny it, because you’ll only turn your whole life into this ball of frustration. No, you go for it. If you can show me you’re good enough to deserve him, I won’t get in your way. I want him, I can admit that now. But he wants my brother, and I had to give up on him. But if you’re kind, maybe you can get what you want without hurting those two. And if you’re a generous lover, maybe you can give him the pleasure that I always wished I could. So, that’s the offer. You show me how good you are, how much pleasure you can bring, and I’ll teach you to be as good as he deserves.”

Amantha nodded, speechless and confused. She couldn’t imagine what would have brought anyone to make an offer like that. But she was so horny, she needed a release. And the stranger’s hands were already unhooking her belt. She couldn’t imagine saying no to an offer like that.

She gasped as the stranger’s kisses traced an impatient dotted line down her neck and across her breasts, always heading down. She wasn’t even sure who she was by this point. If she glanced back at the book she knew she’d be Amantha, but her eyes couldn’t focus on anything closer than the trees arching overhead. She could be Amantha, or she could be Jen. The face between her thighs might be Eric or some woman who hadn’t given a name. Whoever it was, their tongue was more than skilled at bringing a woman pleasure. Lapping at her sex, and then sucking gently, and just when the rhythm might start to become predictable there were a couple of delicate fingers sliding inside her, beckoning gently.

She was so confused, she didn’t even know who she was, but it didn’t matter at all. It felt so good that she couldn’t care about the details. She didn’t know what name she was shouting out when the stranger’s teeth held her right on the edge for a minute, or two, or three before pushing her over. The world was nothing but perfection, with her at the heart of it all.

* * *

When Amantha came to fill in her shade sheet, she could only remember the rich red of a stranger’s lipstick. But it was a good colour; a shining invitation that was warm and inviting. She shaded in the square, along with all the other colours she’d been collecting from the landscape, and the trophies,and the two men’s clothes and hair. Twenty-one shades found, forty-eight still to go. Manth knew she was going to be here for some time, and if every day was this good, she might never want to leave. Was that a possibility? That handsome Dirk might want her, not as an intense diversion from his husband, but to stay forever? She’d have to—

Jen stared at the page in front of her, but the words swam and refused to resolve. She was vaguely aware that she should be turning to the next page, but her body was aching with exertion and desire.

“Enjoying the book?” Eric’s voice sounded about as tired as Jen felt. Tired and happy, a glow of delight illuminating her from inside.

“I lost count,” she murmured.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”