The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It happened one morning. I woke up early and for some reason began to think about sucking his cock. He was still asleep, and rolled to one side, but I figured what the hell, and rolled him back. He stretched a little, but it gave me just enough room to slide down beside him. Fortunately he only wore a T shirt to bed, so I could zone in on my target easily. His cock was limp, so I sucked it into my mouth and began to massage it. Soon enough, it was stirring and so was he. I felt a hand on my head, as if to say go on.

When he was fully erect, I changed angles, and began to take him deep into my mouth. Funnily enough I’ve never been able to get near to deep throating—my gag reflex always kicked in. This time I could take him deep, I could feel his cock thudding into the back of mouth, even making its way into my throat. I gagged a little, but not much, and it obviously had an effect on him, because he began to twitch and roll about. I began to slide up and down his cock, sucking hard, and he started to come, the semen spurting into my mouth.

Usually I’m a bit thing about swallowing—I pretend to, then slip it out the side of my mouth. But this time it seemed somehow to taste chocolate minty, my favourite flavour, and I just couldn’t eat enough of it. I kept sucking it down, swallowing it, and relishing the flavour, until finally he couldn’t stand it anymore—his cock is always sensitive after a blow job—and he pulled me up to him.

Good way to wake up in the morning, he said with a smile. That pleased me—he’d obviously enjoyed it, and whatever pleased him, always pleased me. After all, deep down, I always though that I’d do anything he wanted, anything at all, when it came to sex. I’d just been a little shy and conservative when we first started. Just after that, I had a little nap and woke up feeling very refreshed and relaxed and ready to start the day.

Just to give you a little background—I’m thirty something, nice tits, not too big, but big enough, blonde, on the tall side, thin enough but with some flesh you can grab hold of. A nice bum, rounded, still firm because I work out. Got a good job as a project manager, don’t take crap from anyone. Been hanging around with Eric now for a couple of years, and generally it’s been pretty good. Conservative sex life, but consistent, and I’d never thought about changing it. Not until recently that is.

The next day, I beat him home from work by about a half hour. I began to think about the morning before, and how I’d woken him up with a blow job, and I began to think how he’d like it, if the moment he walked in the door, I started to give him another one. The idea kind of took hold of me, and I began to obsess about it. I thought about his cock, about taking it in deep, about the chocolate minty flavour his semen seemed to have. He told me later it was probably because he’d taken to eating peppermints to keep his breath fresh at work, and somehow the flavour crossed over inside. I’d never believed that stuff about changing the taste by what you ate—it always seemed gooey and salty to me—but maybe there’s something to it, because if Eric told me he’d eaten something, say fruit or steak, I began to notice the flavour came through in his come. And he always seemed to eat the things I liked—I even began to taste a little chardonnay in there.

Whatever, the moment he walked in the door, he seemed cheerful. I came up to him, gave him a peck on the cheek and asked him how his day had been. He said he’d been dealing with the usual bunch of cocksuckers. It seemed a funny remark, he’s usually not given to that kind of talk, but it set me going. If he’d been dealing with them, he was probably in the mood for a bit of cock sucking. As he stood there in the kitchen, I slid down in front of him, and kneeled, so my mouth was at just the right height. I undid his zip, then fished inside for his cock. He just stood there, his hand touching my head as if to say it was alright, I should keep going.

His cock was a little bit buried, but I managed to get it out from his briefs, then took it into my mouth. He came erect pretty quick, as if he was turned on and waiting for it.

I began to suck, but his pants kept getting in the way. He suggested we head inside and he went to sit on a sofa. He pulled down his pants, and his briefs and spread his legs so I could fit between them. It gave me the perfect angle. After taking a quick look at his swollen cock, which was already glistening from my mouth juices, I took him in deep. This time I didn’t seem to have any gag reflex at all. I took him in very deep, and he began almost to pump me, lifting his body up off the couch, sending his cock in to me like he was fucking my mouth. I usually like to keep control of the cock—I always used to wrap my hand around the base of his cock to give me something to stroke and to limit the amount that could fit in my mouth—but this time I was being mouth fucked and I was enjoying it.

He came, with more semen than usual, and it had the same chocolate minty taste I’d liked so much before. With a hint of burgundy. I couldn’t get enough of it, and I sucked him hard until he was completely empty. I even put my finger up behind his ball sac to make sure if there was anything hiding there, it’d begin its journey into my mouth. Again he couldn’t take it after a while—he just got so sensitive—so he pulled me up next to him on the couch and we cuddled for a little bit. He said it’d been a great way to arrive home, and that pleased me. Clearly he’d enjoyed the surprise, and whatever pleased him, really pleased me. After all, deep down, sexually, I’d do anything he wanted, anything at all. The sofa was so comfy I had a little nap in his arms, then woke up and found we were watching the news.

Nothing much happened for a while then—we were both busy—but I still found the time to please him with the odd surprise, taking his cock into my mouth when he might least expect it. We were also still fucking in the usual way, but it began to dawn on me that we might start to do other things to freshen things up. For the life of me, I can’t remember how or why, but one day I picked up The Story Of O on the bedside table—I never read pornography and I just can’t remember how it got there—but I picked it up and started reading, and I found it really arousing. The first few chapters were she was picked up and stripped and taken to the chateau and tied up and assaulted in all kinds of ways—I mean, not the sort of things I wanted to experience—but just reading it was a real turn on. As I was reading, I slipped my fingers down under my pants and I started to stroke myself and got hotter and hotter, and that surprised me too—I never usually masturbate, I mean I don’t need to, I have enough going on in my sex life, but this time I came really quick and really hard, over and over, with these images of being O, of experiencing it just like O stuck in my head.

After I came, I just lay on the bed slumped, then I noticed him sitting in the corner watching me. I don’t know how long he’d been there—I don’t remember him being there when I was reading, but it looked somehow from the way he was sitting that he’d been there for enough time to see the whole thing. That made me a little embarrassed—I don’t think I’d ever let him watch me wank before—but he seemed really pleased. And that was good, because if it pleased him, then it pleased me. After all, I’d do anything he wanted, anything at all, and if that included wanking in front of him, why not.

For the next week, some of the images from the Story of O kept coming back into my head. Don’t know why, but I found myself dreaming all kinds of things. Suddenly it seemed tame to be thinking about giving him a blow job when he arrived home. I should try to spice it up a little. I was roaming around the house one weekend when I came across a set of handcuffs—not the usual sort of thing you’d expect to find in a house like ours, because we keep everything pretty tidy—Eric does his share of stuff, and so do I. I mentioned it to him, and he said he’d confiscated them from a nephew and hadn’t thought anything more about it—he’d just put them in the corner out of harm’s way.

That didn’t stop me from starting to obsess about them. I kept thinking about how I could use them to spice things up. I spent one day in a series of committee meetings, just thinking about the cuffs, and then got home before Eric. When he called me on the cell phone to say he’d be home soon, I decided I’d put them on. First I opened my top and took off my bra, then I took off my panties under my dress. Somehow it seemed right to be available without any clothing getting in the way. It felt funny snapping one bracelet on one wrist, and it took a lot of twisting for me to get the other cuff around my wrist—I had to bend my arms out to one side just to see what I was doing. Still I played fair—when they were on, they were on good and tight. No slipping them off.

As he came in the door, I went and kneeled down in front of him. That took a bit of skill too—you try doing it no hands—and I kind of lurched towards his crotch and then began to nuzzle him. As I looked up, he smiled and seemed pleased—he knew we were into another game. Try to get it out, he said, and I tried to grab the zip with my teeth. But it was too well hidden, too hard to get hold of, and he had to pull it down himself. By the time he got his cock out, he had a huge erection. I slipped it into my mouth, and he got hold of my head and forced me hard towards him, onto his cock so it went right down my throat.

I didn’t have any arms to stop him. I thrashed about a bit, but I was like impaled on his cock. I figured the best way to get out of it was to start sucking, but before I could do much he started to fuck me in the mouth. That’s about the only way to describe it—I wasn’t doing much in the way of sucking, he was just shoving it into me really hard. This was worse than any gag reflex, I couldn’t breathe because his cock and his crutch were right in my face. Any time I tried to back off, he just rammed into me harder. Yet funnily enough I found it exciting, I found it just like O, I liked being done hard in the mouth, and the more he thrust into me, the more I tried to respond, until I could feel him coming and in a last hard shove his cock started to pour his semen straight into my throat. I coughed and spluttered and then I swallowed hard and it all went down. As minty as always. With maybe a touch of orange. Like those after dinner orange choccy mints. I was becoming a real addict to that mint flavour—not like the kind you buy in the store, more like my own special brand, always on tap, always subtly different.

After I’d licked him off, he helped me up—I couldn’t move that well with the handcuffs still keeping my arms behind me. He was really pleased and so was I, because I liked to please him. He turned me around and took a look at the cuffs in position. So I can do what I like, he said, and I nodded. Before I knew it, he had me bent over the kitchen table, and he was forcing my legs apart by standing between them, and then he held my handcuffed hands high in the air with one hand, so I was forced hard down on the table, while with his other hand, he began to finger fuck me. I was surprised at how wet I was, and after he fiddled with my clit for a little while, he forced three fingers into me and stretched me really wide. As I got more and more hot, I’ll swear he had all his fingers in me, maybe most of his hand. I’ve never felt such a big, moving thing inside me, probing and caressing. I’d never been fucked like that before, and the way he fingered me, deep and wide, and with bumps onto my clit, made me come and come, with my breasts rubbing onto the wood of the table.

When he let me up, I was pretty dizzy. Handy things, those cuffs, he said, and I just nodded and relaxed while he held me up. Got the keys? he asked, and I went into a mild panic—I hadn’t seen the keys. That’s when he held them up to me, with a smile. Just as well I knew where they were, he said. It seemed strange how he had them close to hand, but I didn’t worry—I was just pleased to be uncuffed. It was the first time I’d ever felt so out of control, the first time I’d ever been fucked in the mouth like that or fingered so hard. Almost fisted. Never thought I’d be fist fucked, but it stretched me and filled me everywhere and I liked it.

He took me into the TV room and sat me down on the sofa, and told me to relax, so that’s what I did—I just felt out of it after that sort of climax, so I drifted of and woke up to find we were watching the news. When he told me to sit on his lap and I found his cock growing back into my cunt, I couldn’t believe it. He fucked me slowly and gently, like he was in for the long haul, but by now I was starting to feel sore—not that I minded, I felt like he could do anything he wanted to me—but I just didn’t feel like coming. When he started to pinch my nipples, I writhed on top of him, and that seemed to bring him off. I usually hate him pinching my nipples, but this time it just seemed okay ... and as he pinched me harder and harder, really squeezing, I suddenly got really turned on, and started to stroke myself, and before I knew it, I was coming just as he started to soften and slide out of me, and his semen started to ooze out. Before I could stop to think, I was down on his cock, stroking myself, sucking up all his tasty semen, and coming again ...

So you like me squeezing your nipples, he said, and I nodded, and he squeezed them hard, and it made me come again. Instantly. I slumped down beside him, feeling really tired and relaxed. Now whenever he squeezes my nipples, I get instantly aroused, and if he does it for even a short while, I can bring myself off—it’s like there’s a hot wired circuit between my nipples and my cunt, and the spark from the nipples goes straight through my body down to my clit, and that just sparks my clit so hard it goes into a frenzy of convulsions, and I’m off in the best series of orgasms you’ve ever thought about having. If his cock’s inside me at the time, and I’m stroking myself down there, multiply that by ten.

Since then it’s just got better and better. I seem to be able to come any time I like. He just has to touch my nipples and the spark kicks in. I just have to feel his cock in the back of my mouth and it feels like I’ve got a clit there that’s hot wired to my cunt, so whenever I give him a blow job, it brings me off. Can’t remember whose idea it was to watch that old porn movie, Deep Throat, and I thought it was really silly, kind of invasion of the mouth snatchers crap, but it turns out the back of your mouth and throat can be really sexually sensitive. At least it is for me.

We’ve got some good ideas from watching porn. I never used to watch anything that was X rated. I liked movies when I had time to fit one in—nothing heavy, not like a Scorsese, but maybe a good romantic comedy with Reece Witherspoon. Eric was always at me to watch horror shows and kinky stuff, just to see something different. I figured I didn’t have the time, what with work, and Eric always agreed you were better off doing it than watching it, but if you don’t know what’s out there, what people get up to, you have to try to figure it out, imagine all that stuff, for yourself. So we’d watch a few things ‘for research purposes’. That’s how I found out you could be hot wired—all your nerves connecting up to your cunt.

Turns out I really like being tied up too. That’s something that’s happened more and more recently. Any chance we have a little spare time, Eric’s got me tied down to the bed, fucking me silly. Last weekend he tied me up so that I had to go about the house all day naked—lucky it’s the middle of summer—and Eric touched me up or felt me up or did anything he liked any time. I was just there, available and open, and it really turned me on. He’s used ropes, he’s used bandages, and just last week he also used a gag shaped like a penis and a blindfold—so I couldn’t see him coming. The penis gag had a kind of leathery chocolate minty flavour and I used it to practise my sucking skills. It didn’t really stop me from making a noise—just stopped me from talking. And Eric didn’t leave it in for long—he slipped his cock into my mouth and gagged me with it for what seemed like hours. I just lay there, sometimes sucking, sometimes just holding it in my mouth, sometimes building up to a little come, sometimes drifting off to I don’t know where in my mind, dreaming, waking up, sucking a little more, drifting away again ...

Eric’s also taken to playing dress up games with me. I put on all different kinds of skimpy clothes—things I’d never usually wear, like corsets and low cut bras, and even a bra with holes cut into them so my nipples pop out. I know he’s been taking digital snaps and loading them onto the computer, but so what I figure—if my body turns him on, why shouldn’t he have reminders of it when he’s working at home.

The more we play these games, the better I seem to be doing at work. I seem to be more assertive, more in control, more sure of my rights. I took out one guy who’d been a real pain to me for a couple of months by nailing him to the floor in our weekly strategy meeting. Snipped off his balls, that’s the way I thought of it. Neutered him. And the higher I climb at work, the more I like what’s happening to me at home. Nothing like good sex to relax you, drain all the tension out of your body, take away all your worldly cares.

Just to give you an idea of what we get up to, Eric hog tied me really quite tight, then lay down with his legs either side of me, so that my head was directly facing his cock and balls. He slipped my mouth over his cock and fucked me in the mouth. Being hog tied, all I could do was wriggle, but it was like I was impaled on his cock. He could force my head down on him as hard as he liked and there was nothing I could do about it. Six months ago I didn’t know what a hog tie was—when Eric first asked me, I thought he must be talking about roping a pig. Well it made him laugh, I just didn’t tell him it was true.

Now I’m used to being tied up every which way. Just yesterday Eric had me face down on the bed in a partial hog tie—left hand tied to left leg, the same with the right hand and leg. That left me wide open, and I began to get nervous when he slipped a couple of pillows under my stomach and propped me up quite high, so my backside and my cunt tilted up into the air. I was nervous because the one big no no in our sex life has been that I won’t do anal. One of my lovers tried it on me a long time ago, and it hurt like hell, and ever since I haven’t been interested.

Of course I knew Eric wanted to try it with me—one night he’d said that the feeling, the grip you get is completely different—and I wanted to know how he was such an expert, and he’d said that one of his girlfriends had loved doing it. Well it might have been alright for her, and for him, but I thought he was getting enough all the other ways, and that was the one place we didn’t need to go.

Now here I was with my bum in the air, and I could feel him greasing up the whole area, and I knew it wasn’t just for a massage. I wriggled a little and protested as much as I could, but suddenly I felt one of his fingers sliding right into my hole—past the sphincter muscle, and all the way into me. And I didn’t mind it a bit. It felt really good. I could relax the muscle or I could grab his finger and grip it really tight. In a funny way, I was the one in control, and I worked hard at grabbing his finger and squeezing it tight with my muscles. Exercise pays dividends—try flexing your bum muscle right now and you’ll see what I mean. Squeeze power.

Eric slipped a couple of fingers inside me, and moved them around, and you’ll never believe it, but just as he did, I could feel that my bum had been hot wired to my clit and my cunt. After all there’s just a thin wall between them, and there’s no wonder my clit could feel the sparks being triggered in my backside.

I started to respond to Eric and his fingers, push back and up at them, and he said I had a nice tight arse, and that turned me on even more. Lately Eric’s taken to being very explicit in his language—not so much dirty talk as calling a garden fork a garden fork and a cunt a cunt. I’ve taken to speaking the same way, at least in private when I want to be fucked and fucked hard. Didn’t realise language could be such a turn on. That’s why I’ve taken to writing down what we’ve got up to—Eric likes to read my thoughts, and I like the idea he’s getting right inside my head.

He played around with my bum for what seemed like forever—to the point where I got impatient and told him to shove his cock into me there, as deep as he could. Eric hears me and he quickly slides up on me. He shoves his cock into my arse, all the way in, so that I think I can feel it in my mouth, in my breasts, in my cunt, on my nipples, everywhere. It’s in me so deep I can’t begin to move, can’t begin to breathe.

Eric lies on top of me very quietly and my sphincter muscle slowly begins to relax. Having his cock in me begins to feel like having his fingers in me, and in some strange way it feels really good. It’s not like being fucked in the cunt, it feels tighter and deeper and more intrusive. I can feel his cock pushing in me all the way up to my throat. At first he doesn’t move around much, then slowly he begins to slide up and down. I’m all greased up, so he slides easy, and now it feels really good. My cunt can feel every move, and my clit is getting all these hot wired sparks. I’m stroking myself and he’s starting to really fuck me now, fuck me in the arse, up and down, and I’m surprising myself by coming as he comes ...

The next morning, I know where he’s been—I tell him I know why cowboys walk the way they do—but somehow I don’t seem to mind. It’s good we got rid of the last taboo. I think Eric’s decided we’re going to work our way through every book and every position and I’m taking up the challenge—when he came in my breasts, I picked up his minty come and made a meal of it. Not bad for someone who never swallowed a year ago. When he takes me now I always feel I’m tied up in my head, even if there’s not a rope in sight. So I can stretch myself into any position and hold myself there. I’m doing a lot of stretching.

That’s how we spend our free time now—he’s happy, I’m happy. We fuck like rabbits. I do anything he wants. Sometimes I lead the way, sometimes I get these real left field ideas and suggest them to him. I’ve been fucked in every way you can imagine, and some I’m sure you’ll have to think about for a minute or two. I’ve brought Eric off in about every way you can imagine, and I’m always ready and waiting for him. About the easiest way to describe it is being hot wired in all the right places.

I can still remember the time it started to happen, that first morning, and sometimes when I think about it, when I try to recall that first magical moment, there’s the sound of his voice in the corner of my mind, telling me things. But then his voice is always in the corner of my mind telling me things, and I don’t mind, because they’re the things I like, the things I like to do, the things that make me happy, and please him, and please me ...