The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was in Male Heaven for the next couple of weeks. I mean, here was a woman who came from swallowing my cum. Hester wasn’t insatiable, but she could do a damn good imitation from time to time. Her birthday came and with it, a mysterious and unexplained request that I not buy her a gift. At dinner, she gave me a small glassine bag with some ground beige substance in it and asked me to mix it into my water—and not to order anything with alcohol in it. After getting her solemn pledge that it was a legal herbal substance, I agreed. She smiled happily as I drained the glass.

Back at her place, she explained that it was a very expensive herb she’d gotten at a small basement shop in Chinatown with the help of a colleague at work. It was reputed to assist in the fathering of sons—which, she had been told, required the production of more semen. It sounded like a crock to me, and I told her so. I felt no hornier than usual for her, but I didn’t know if I could be hornier than usual for her, so that was no test.

Nonetheless, we were making out on her couch pretty heatedly when she took a small drammer from her end table. She dabbed it on my fingertips, replaced the stopper and looked up at me expectantly. I smiled and caressed her cheek, watching her nostrils flare as she took in the scent, and then I whispered, “Happy birthday, honey.”

“Ohhhhhhh...” she moaned and began tearing at my trousers. She twisted onto her knees on the couch and I lifted my butt so she could get my trousers and briefs down. She clamped her mouth around the tip of my dick and started sucking madly. Saliva dribbled from her cock-stuffed lips onto my shaft. She gripped my cock with her hand and began slowly jacking me. Her tongue was pulsing against the underside of my glans. My balls felt dangerously swollen.

That was all the warning either of us got. My prick swelled and then I gushed cum into her mouth. The first spurt must have lasted a good three or four seconds. Her cheeks actually swelled. She swallowed loudly, her hips churning and bucking as she came—and then I fired again, another equally preposterous spurt of cream. For me, the pleasure was so intense that it frightened me.

I ejaculated three more times like that before cumming in what seemed like a more normal volume. By then, I was sure I must have been spurting piss or blood into her mouth, but when I was done—only temporarily, I assure you—I could see what looked like a thicker-than-normal white residue on her lips and teeth.

I don’t know what that herb was, but it was definitely not a one-shot wonder. Hester voraciously sucked me off three more times before we crashed into sleep, and each time the volume and force of my ejaculations was only minimally less than the previous one. Only the next morning, when I woke to find her gobbling my dick yet again, did I cum with normalcy—normal, that is, if you skipped the fact that I blown four year-quality loads down her throat the night before. Hester said the size and power of my eruptions was the best birthday gift she’d ever had; she figured she’d cum with every spurt, and there’d been plenty of spurts.

Of course, it was three days before I could walk or sit normally again.

Yeah, it was MCP heaven for the first few weeks.

Then things started going...off.

It started on a Sunday morning. We’d spent a rainy Saturday afternoon revisiting some old friends hanging in the Metropolitan’s American wing, dined at a little place on Third Avenue, then hopped the bus down to my place. We stopped to pick up two bottles of wine and then some fruit and cheese and prepared for a relaxed evening of cuddling and caressing on the sofa. One thing led inevitably to another which led inevitably to me cumming in her mouth and her simply cumming. We killed one bottle of wine and half of the other, then fell into bed. Hester was petite enough that I was perfectly comfortable sleeping with her sprawled atop me.

I awoke early, just after dawn. We were nestled like spoons, with me behind her and my cock nestled heavily between her tight buns. I kissed the nape of her neck lightly. She hmmmmed in her sleep and pressed back against me, encircled in my arms. I let one hand cover her breast and dozed again.

When I next awoke, it was because Hester was vigorously sucking my stiff cock. It was a wonderful way to wake. I gazed down, playing participant voyeur, Her finely chiseled face was partially obscured and partially framed by her disheveled hair. The oval of her lush lips was moving up and down just a bit over my prick. Her cheeks were hollowed by her pulsating suction and her tongue was dancing along the underside of my shaft. It was absolutely wonderful.

She was laying partly between my legs, with her thighs open and her wet cunt rubbing my shin. One stiff nipple was moving against the top of my thigh as she slowly shimmied. She was totally focused on the cock in her mouth. She took me to the back of her mouth and let the knob just touch her throat, an exhilarating sensation for me. I groaned.

At that sound her eyes opened and she looked up at me, meeting my gaze. She slowly pulled her mouth off my prick.

“Like what you see big fella?”

“Gorgeous.”

“Do I look like wanton, like a cocksucking slut?”

“You look gorgeous, sexy and turned on. You look like you really enjoy what you’re doing.”

She gave me a long slow lick from the base of my prick to the tip. She wrapped one hand around the root of my cock and began slowing stroking.

“I want to drink you dry, darling.”

“Can I return the favor?”

“Later. Oh, by the way, noticed anything different?”

Still somewhat groggy with sleep and overwhelmed with the sensations, I couldn’t really notice anything. After a moment of my blank staring, she smiled again.

“No oil, no keyword.”

My eyes opened wide. “You mean—”

“I made a little modification. Whenever I feel horny, now...”

“Oh, no...”

“Oh, yes!” And she plunged my cock back into her mouth. She stroked madly and sucked as if she wanted to leave nothing more moist than ashes. Her groans didn’t slow things, and neither did the feel of her oozing pussy on my leg. She hunched forward greedily and ground her cunt and clit against my thigh. I was seconds from erupting...

....when she wormed one insidious finger up my butt.

“WHA—!” I yelped and then I was gushing into her mouth. She suckled at my cock, swallowing all I had and vacuuming still more. Her finger rubbed my prostate, and I thought my nuts had exploded. And all the time, Hester was writhing and moaning loudly in orgasm.

I shot off again three or four times before I ran dry. Hester drank it all and only reluctantly withdrew stinkfinger from my butt. She lay, still wriggling, across my legs and swallowed my shriveling cock to the base. I felt her tongue slip out and touch the top of my scrotum. Her nose was against my pubis. My heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest.

I finally managed to urge her to crawl up into my arms. She burrowed her face into the hollow of my neck and just shook for a few minutes.

When we’d caught our breath, she leaned up to my ear and murmured, “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. That was wonderful!”

“Baby,” I whispered, “that was very pleasurable and very intense.”

“But?”

“But—what about all the other lovely stuff? I mean, you’re telling me that if I eat you, you won’t get off until I cum in your mouth. If I want us to do it doggy-style or up the butt—I have to cum in your mouth. I miss those things with you—a lot.”

“But I thought you’d like this,” she protested. “I mean, isn’t this like a dream come true? All you have to do to satisfy me—and does it ever!—is let me suck you off.”

“Variety, doll, is the spice of life.”

“Are you telling me that this is bland?”

“Well, not exactly bland, but..but I want us to fuck. I want to suck you. I miss the taste and feel of your sweet pussy. Couldn’t you make just a little change in your self-programming? Please?”

She frowned in thought, then nodded—slowly.

“I think so,” she said.

I didn’t care for the uncertainty in her tone, but said nothing. I could always hope.

So much for hoping. Three weeks later, she was red-eyed and fighting back tears and my cock was starting to feel a little sore. It was getting ridiculous. Now she’d taken to deep-throating me in her hunger for my cum—and she absolutely could not get off any other way. The problem was that wide as her lips were, her teeth tended to scratch the base of my cock.

We were sitting across my dining table from each other, sharing a pot of tea.

“I don’t know what to do,” she sniffled. “I even tried going to a psychotherapist who’s a licensed hypnotist.”

“What’d he say?”

“She said I was the only one who could change it.”

“Wonderful.” I shook my head. Why the hell had she gone and messed with this in the first place? Well, I knew the answer: She wanted it to be better for me.

“Do you have any ideas?” She sniffled again, which made her firm tits jiggle sweetly under her pale yellow blouse.

Actually, I did. I’d been doing a little reading and making a few very discreet calls. I’d learned two things: That Hester was immensely suggestible, and that changing her programming meant somehow forcing her to cum without allowing her the taste of my semen.

I shared these little tidbits with her.

She shook her head. “It just won’t work. Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

“Maybe I can help you.”

“How? If you’re there, I’ll finally get so horny I’ll jump you.” She took a sip of her tea. “I mean, what are you going to do, tie—”

Her eyes widened. Her nipples stiffened.

She put down the tea cup. “You know, I used to have this fantasy where—”

I shook my head. “Forget it.”

“No—wait. Hear me out.”

She knew damn well I couldn’t refuse to listen. “Alright.” I took out my pipe and pouch.

“I had this friend in college, Regina. Nice Catholic girl. We got to be sort of confidants. Just a little bit of a thing, smaller than me, and she was dating this hulk, a lineman from the football team. I mean, this guy was huge, three or four inches taller than you and twice as wide. So we were doing in a bottle of screw-cap wine and exchanging notes and I finally asked her: How could she possibly have sex with a guy that big? She told me that the only way she could really, really get off was if she was being somehow restrained, and the hulk fit the bill.

“So I said, sure, having a three-hundred pound gorilla on top of you would restrain you just fine, but also smother you. And she giggled and blushed and drank some more wine and told me that was true, but he was so strong he would just hold her by her hips and sort of pump her up and down on him and there was nothing she could do about it. She figured it was all that sexual guilt, like she wasn’t allowed to enjoy it if she could stop it.”

I was staring, my pipe motionless in the pouch.

“Well?”

“Well what?” I echoed cleverly.

“What do you think?”

“I think the last thing you have is sexual guilt, especially since you’re not a Catholic, besides which I’m not a college-age linebacker.”

She slapped the table so sharply that I jumped. “Don’t you get it? I have a block against it now. And you don’t need to be as big as Andy was; that’s what silk scarves were invented for.”

I closed my mouth, saying only: “Oh.”

“So if you tie me up and play with me and use me till my body has an orgasm despite my blocks, it should break up the blocks.”

“And maybe establish that as the only way you can cum.”

She blinked. “I didn’t think of that.”

I finished packing my pipe and lit it with a wooden match. I didn’t say the obvious, because it was obvious, and it would have been insulting her intelligence.

“Another way might be the Manchurian Candidate routine.”

She frowned.

“Remember when Sinatra has Harvey pick up a deck of cards and they’re all red queens?”

She nodded. “But I’m not sure I’m getting this. How do I overload—oh!”

And with illumination came the predictable physical reaction. She stood slowly.

“Oh, no,” I groaned.

She came around the side of the table, a feral fellatrix. “I just imagined what it would be like to suck off eight, ten, twenty guys one right after...”

She dropped to her knees, unzipped me, fished out my overworked dick and crammed it into her mouth. If there was one thing I had learned by then, it was that once Hester got started, she didn’t stop till she got what she, er, came for.

I surrendered to the inevitable.

A few days later, I was having a couple of drinks with Craig, one of my best friends and one of the few guys I felt I could discuss this with. Well, to be honest, more than a few drinks. Whatever. We were sitting at the bar in Flannigan’s, on University Place. Craig was drinking white wine spritzers; I was working on my third Johnny Walker Black and feeling every molecule of it.

“I honestly don’t know what to tell you, Dan,” he said. “Even when I was into the orgy scene, this would have been a tough one. Have you tried the sex clubs?”

I nodded, tossed back some scotch. “Sure. None of them had any kind of verification policies. Pay at the door and you’re in. I even tried looking in the swinger’s mags, but the few guys worth contacting—based on the ads—sounded...”

“Questionable? Sleazy?”

“Questionably sleazy.”

Cheers erupted along the bar. The Summer Games were on the television and an American diver had just moved into second place. As the camera followed the diver back to the jacuzzi, Craig nudged me.

“Did you see that? His Speedo looked like it held a grapefruit.”

“Sorry; I missed that.”

“Well, I never would. I wonder if he’s got a functioning brain.”

“Craig, you’ve got a lover. Don’t tell me you’re thinking about—”

“Doesn’t mean I’m dead,” he said. “I can look and imagine...That’s it!”

His outburst caught me by surprise as I was signaling to Max for another JWB. “What’s it?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Ad copywriter. You know that.”

“And don’t you think it would be a coup if one of your clients could underwrite all the sports clothes needed for a deserving team?”

Maybe it was the fourth scotch. Maybe it was weariness from Hester’s mouth. Maybe it was the phase of the moon. Whatever it was, by the time he finished telling me his idea, I was convinced it was the solution.

“It’s really quite all right, Father,” I said for the fourth or fifth time. I was taking note of the numbers on the jerseys as the young men stepped out to be measured for their complimentary sweatsuits and sweat jackets and warmup clothes and on and on and on...

“But it really can’t be overstated. Our tradition at St. Urban’s has been that everything is secondary to academic excellence. Acceptance is the equivalent of a full scholarship—no tuition or fees. What bequests we get go immediately to improving our academic and facilities and the school building. We seldom have a penny to spare for athletic equipment, let alone apparel and—”

“Yes, Father, I quite understand. And that’s one of the reasons our client wanted to supply your athletes. We want the people who wear their athletic clothes to be thinking people, not just jocks—but intelligent, well-educated people who also take sports seriously.”

He put his hands on his hips. St. Urban’s was traditional, which meant the principal still wore the black robes. The guy looked like the stand in for Edmund O’Brian or an extra for Men of Boys Town.

“I understand: yuppies.”

I burst out laughing, and he joined a minute later.

Two hours later, I was sitting in my office, making notes of the scholarly young jocks and their ages.

It took me about two weeks to get everything arranged, but in the end it was all set up. The athletes would get their clothes at a client-sponsored dinner at the Pennsylvania hotel. There’d be photo ops galore, so we also got good press.

At eight, the party started to break up. I let the word get out to some of the juniors and seniors that there was a smaller party for the more mature guys upstairs. No booze or beer, but a more intimate and fraternal setting. Twenty minutes later, the first of them started showing up at the door of the suite. We had a decent spread laid out for them in one room and plenty of lounging space in front of a big-screen TV hooked to SportsChannel in another. The third room was dark and uninhabited...at the moment.

At a quarter to nine, Hester showed up, braless in a white leotard and a black leather miniskirt and high heels. I saw eyes lighting up at the sight of her. But these were polite young men, and no one made untoward advances. After a half-hour of being tantalizingly close, and occasionally brushing up against one or another of them in the crowded room, Hester disappeared into the adjacent room.

Then came the tough part for me.

I sidled up to the obvious leader of the group, a handsome specimen of 17. “My, um, lady friend wants to talk to you alone for a minute.”

“Sure thing.” He looked around the room.

“In the room next to the one where the food is.”

He frowned, then shrugged. “Sure.” I watched his broad shoulders as he went to my girlfriend.

About seven minutes later, flushed and panting, he re-entered the room. He started toward one of his teammates, then hesitated and started toward me, a somewhat uncertain look on his face. I knew what was troubling him. I winked, nodded and put on my best imitation smile. He shrugged and went to his pal. He whispered. His pal stood up straight, nodded enthusiastically and went into that room.

It went on like that for the next hour. Some took ten or fifteen minutes. A couple were done in under five minutes. As word spread through the group, they started lining up, whispering and laughing to each other. The only way I could continue dealing with it was an occasional stop in the bathroom for a snort from my flask.

By ten-thirty, they were laughing and talking openly about it. I caught snatches of conversation.

“...so she just asked me, like, did I ever have a girl suck me off, and I lied and said, sure, twice, and she says, how’d you like to make it three times and the next thing I know...”

“...I swear it was like some kind of dream. As soon as I started getting off, she started getting off!”

“...wouldn’t let me touch her or anything but just...”

“...all the way down her throat—jeez!...”

I had another snort.

By eleven, they’d all gotten the treatment at least once, and they were all lined up for another go. At 11:08, the recently drained supplier left the door open, providing visual cues that only hastened the emptying of the next pair of seventeen-year-old balls.

I took a look. Hester was on her back at the edge of the bed. A tall, lanky swimmer stood at the side of the bed, his dick all the way into her face, and he was obviously giving her what she wanted. Hester was shuddering and humping, cumming powerfully. Her limp arms were flung wide. The swimmer finally finished and withdrew a very respectable length of prick from her throat. He flashed his friends a grin as he rearranged his clothing, and exchanged high fives with the next in line.

By midnight, most of the remaining guys were starting to look a little peaked. About half had departed, leaving six apparently boundless reservoirs of semen for Hester. At this point, after all, they were on their third or fourth turns. All of them were crowded into the room and none had bothered putting it away after their last turns.

I was rather buzzed at the moment (a half-pint of vodka does that), and literally feeling little pain. In fact, I admired them.

Hester, of course, was basically delirious with pleasure. At that point she’d been cumming for more than two hours. But even if the only signs of her orgasm were the quivering of her hips and thighs and the contractions of her belly, she was obviously ready for more.

The smallest guy in the crew, a miler, stepped up.

“Sheesh, here goes Ernie again!” one of the guys yipped.

While Ernie was the shortest and slightest of the grew, he had huge balls and they appeared to be rather full. As he fed Hester his short dick, he groaned and let her suck it right down her throat. He stood still and in less than a minute gave her the goo. I watched Hester’s throat work and her torso jiggle; cumming again.

It was time for the last big spurt, so to speak.

“Okay, guys,” I said loudly, as Ernie withdrew his cock—which was still hard. “This is the last call, and make it quick. Jack those johnsons so as soon as the little lady gets it, she gets her juice.”

“And don’t pump it too hard, Ernie!” someone hooted, drawing laughter.

The next young man up slid all the way into her mouth and throat, and while he enjoyed the feel of Hester’s talented if tired gullet on his cock, the other guys started whipping themselves to the brink. The guy at the plate served up his sauce, Hester came and the next guy was right there and ready. I don’t think he lasted thirty seconds. Then the next. And the next...right down to indefatigable Ernie.

That did it, all right. Hester got six sizable loads in her mouth in less than four minutes. She was still cumming as I ushered her stud team out of the room and switched off the light. Some of the guys pleaded for one more turn, but I told them that if we pushed it past her limit, there’d be no more of these special parties. There weren’t going to be, anyhow, but they inferred otherwise.

When they left—taking to heart my admonition that it was late and they shouldn’t disturb the other guests; polite boys—I looked around at the remains of the suite. Surprisingly, for a place recently inhabited by nearly two dozen festive high school athletes, the place was far from a mess. Of course, the food was completely gone.

I switched off the television and entered Hester’s chamber, switching the light back on. She was still cumming.

I went to the bed and knelt next to her. There was still quite a bit of jism on and around her mouth. I could see it on her teeth, I could smell it on her breath. She could still taste it, so she was still cumming.

“Had enough, baby?” I whispered.

She whimpered. “I’m—I’m still—still—”

“I know.” I reached down and lightly brushed her nipples through the leotard. She writhed and moaned. “And you can cum some more. Like this.” I carefully tweaked a swollen nozzle.

“Yes!”

I shifted and pushed the tight leather skirt higher. I rubbed her pussy through the thoroughly soaked leotard. “And like this.”

“Unnnnn!”

I unsnapped the leotard’s crotch. “And this.” I pushed two fingers into her convulsing cunt.

“Yeah—yeah—" Her twat gripped my fingers and spasmed frantically.

I withdrew the fingers and put one against her anus. “And this,” I whispered, slipping it past her sphincter. She arched and squealed, “Yessss!”

“Still cumming?” I worked the finger in and out of her butt.

“Yessss!”

“Good.” I withdrew the finger and moved back to her head.

“Touch yourself.”

Her hands groped between her legs. Her finger started jerkily massaging her clit and labia.

“You’ll cum when you masturbate.”

“Oh, yessss...”

“And when you’re licked down there.”

“Uh-huh...uh-huh...”

“And best of all,” I whispered, “you’ll cum whenever I—and only I—say a certain word.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she had another orgasm.

“Wh-what word?” she gasped a moment later.

“Antwerp.”

“Unnnnnnn...”

“And you won’t stop until I say another word.”

Her lips moved but no sounds escaped except her panting; she was still cumming.

“Honey.”

She went limp, gasping for breath. I pulled her head into my lap and caressed her face. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, swallowed, blinked again. “I ache all over. I feel like I’ve been beaten. All my muscles and joints are sore. Did I pass out?”

“Not while I was watching. You sure as hell were delirious.”

She panted some more, then moved to stand up. She groaned and let herself fall back into my lap. “I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I came so much!” She shook her head weakly, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she asked, “Well, did you break the blocks?”

“You did. I think everything is going to be fine, now.”

She wrinkled her pretty nose. “Have you been drinking?”

I nodded. “It made me a bit uncomfortable to think of what was going on.”

“I was afraid it would. It was sweet of you to do it for me. Will you help me get cleaned up?”

I couldn’t refuse. She needed it, and I was anything but fresh as a daisy myself. Besides, helping Hester get soaped up and rinsed off was not exactly a fate worse than death. And I certainly enjoyed watching her lovely, pert little ass thrust out when she bent over the lavatory to gargle. I guess the vodka was wearing off, because the sight had its effect on me.

Which wasn’t wasted on Hester when she came back to the bed and found me laying there with a tent in the sheet.

“Mmmmmm—ow!” she said as she bent to climb into the bed.

“You okay?”

“Muscles are stiffening up—like that one.” She smiled an evil smile. “But I can take care of one more wooden soldier after tonight’s march.”

“Wait till we get up, when you don’t ache all over.”

She flipped the sheet back and gripped my cock, jacking lightly. “Well, I know one thing that’ll take care of this without making me ache.” She started leaning over my prick. Oh, no, I thought, not when the soreness was just going away.

“No, Hester, please...”

“I really, really want to.”

“Hester, stop it.”

“Gonna throw me out of bed?”

“Hester...” I growled. “It’s still sore around the base.”

“But I want to taste—”

“Antwerp.”

I waited for about thirty seconds before I called, “Honey.” Hester lay limp, gasping and groaning on her back.

“Can we just get some sleep now, please?”

She nodded and quietly, still panting, cuddled up to me.