The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A/N: The two characters here are featured in an ongoing online work of original fiction, affectionately nicknamed Vanilla. It can be found at the following: http://www.bishie.net/vanilla . This story isn’t actually apart of the archive there, but rather a Alternative Universe piece I used for my boyfriend’s entertainment. I’m rather proud of it, and I hope you injoy it ^-^ Feedback, positive or negative, is greatly appreciated!

inside out

(i alone am the one you don’t know you need
you don’t know you need me
make me blind when you get close
tie me to the bedpost)
- eve 6

(she could imagine how it would be, being with him.)

Slender arms reached out over her head to her back as she stood, positioning herself in front of the very same mirror Vranphile had used to retrieve Delilah from. Equally slender fingers, extended and waiting, caught hold of the constricting fabric of her bodysuit, searching blindly until they caught hold of the near-invisible zipper at mid-back. Skillfully, she tugged it down easily, and tight leather cloth contracted and then fell away, navy blue straps easily sliding off of her shoulders.

(could imagine the look on his face, shackled to the bed, as she undressed before him.)

The leather continued to peel away, off and away from her breasts like a second skin being shed. Shortly after the fabric binding her legs in their capivity came loose and rolled without resistence off of her milky hips. Snowy white hands, previously aiding herself in undressing, fell easily into her laps as she seated herself down, body never wavering just before the mirror, as her legs kicked themselves free of the disregarded clothing. Well-sculpted legs parted and those same thin, almost bony fingers slid into the cotton of her underwear, feeling what lay beneath, in wait.

(that fearful look etched on those perfect features, unable to look away as she advanced on his helpless form, stripped naked and bound to the bedpost. that lanky body, writhing in its bonds hopelessly, unable to evade what was to happen to him next.)

She slid two fingers over her mound testily, easily roaming over the soft hair that had grown there. Her eyes flickered up from what she was doing to catch the view of herself in the mirror—that flash of familiar white gold hair, and the little concentrating frown she held on her face while she traced the same pattern she had practiced over seemingly a million times before.

(how he’d beg for her to stop before she had even truly started, wide-eyed with dread, while his body eagerly waited for her touch with anticipation. it was a chemical thing, he couldn’t help what would happen to him. and how she would laugh at him, trace a finger wonderously down over his abdomen and let it hang in the air above more intimate areas’ of him, watch as he’d twist and squirm and plead with her to let him go, while his body demanded that she continue.)

Her face was slightly flushed, she took note of, and smirked inwardly, despite herself. Feeling the burning need inside of her—that unattainable lust for him—she decided to not further delay her need for passion, and tentatively, slowly slipped two expert fingers into the heated source of her arousal.

(she’d kiss him on those pale, rose-colored lips—watch how they would stain with more color as the minutes progressed. soft at first, close-mouthed, while her hand would make continue their traveling again—sliding back up over his navel and to his chest before tracing the same trail down again. she’d savor the seething look of hatred he would throw at her as she deliberately—and thankfully, to him—skipped over his more private region and instead worked on tracing circles on the insides of his thighs.)

“Oooh...” it came out as a gentle, almost non-exsistant hiss. She couldn’t remember a time where her own probing had felt so nice—especially the initial penetration. It had been mostly out of habit, before—she couldn’t remember a time before to her where it had held as much meaning as it did now. A third finger joined its sisters with their exploration inside of her, causing the heat that had been building up in her to further enflame her.

(she’d cherish the way his cheeks would grow hot, red with frustration and anger as his body unwillingly gave into his desire. how he would be unable to bite back the gentle groan he’d give when she first caught hold of him, rubbing the tip of him with one determined finger. how he’d throw his head back and close his eyes, trying to wish himself away to another place, another time.)

Her eyes refused to tear themselves away from her reflection, transfixed by her own mirrored image. Her breath came out in a soft, light pant—a hardly noticeable change from her usual breathing pattern. But there was no ignoring the color in her face she had developed—unpleasantly warm, with the thoughts of him plaguing her while she tried to find oblivion with her hands.

(he’d swear her name in a hiss as she’d mount him, unable to close his own legs to deny her access—not that his body, at this point, could have if they had wanted. instinct would override his loathing, and although curse her he might, there would be no way to prevent the gasp he’d issue as he further slid into her wet self, bonds only permitting him to arch his back helplessly against the almost hypnotic feel and press of her. and she, in turn, would giggle with delight of him inside her and wiggle, watching him continue to protest as his body moved with a mind of its own.)

She worked a little faster now, pushed forward by her own dreams and desires. Determined fingers probed and pushed, diving deeper and then pulling out as her hips rode with them; a rhythm to a song that wasn’t playing. The only sound she could hear was the creak of wood as she pressed her back up against the frame of the kingsized bed behind her and her own soft and slightly irregular breathing, eyes watching unblinkingly at the identity directly in front of her, mimicing her own movements.

(soon that last ounce of resistence he could only vocalize to her would wash away, and he would have to give into the chemicals of his body that were consuming him. he’d helplessly buck and writhe beneath her as her slender legs wrapped beneath him. the two of them would create one entity; one being moving, working itself, panting. he’d call her name inbetween gulps of breath, and she’d lean down and press her breasts against his chest as she forced and ground their hips together, her mouth catching his. and he’d helplessly surrender to her, those fiery eyes replaced with a new uncontrollable fire of something very different then what had been before. nothing of his would be safe—she would have claimed and explored all of him, invaded every space of his body. milky-white hands would roam and touch every inch of his body freely, leaving nothing undisturbed.)

Her own body was twisting a little more violently now against the thrusting of her own hands, which were, by this time, more roughly attending to her needs. They probed and pushed and violated her repeatedly—in and out, in and out—in an almost uncomfortable way, only heightening the feeling and her need, bringing her to a painful brink.

(and finally, he’d become terribly still before his body would be wracked with those terrible tremors, signaling his end to the torment he had long since given in to as he came. she would untangle her limbs from his back as he collapsed back onto the bed, spent, and roll over onto her side, slick with their sweat and their juices. his head would lull to the right so that it faced her, face flushed and hair slick with perspiration. he would be left broken, and that gentle, horrible resentment would sink in, accompanied by that helpless feeling and loathing he had lost earlier. how that knowing that she had shamelessly dominated him and broke him in would remain with him, and continue to plague him long into the future. it was then that she would further her attempts to break him—but not his body, this time—and he would be so distraught and defenseless, that it would be not be hard. it was then that she would sucessfully claim his mind, at last.)

And finally, that sweet release she so desired came over her in a wave, overwhelming her. That noise she had been able to keep at a relative silence came to a hollar of passion, and then a scream as she rode the entire thing out, wet fingers practically clawing at herself the entire way. It was then that she could find her voice again, to call her imaginary lover’s name with it as it took her.

“VALEEEEEEEEN!!”

(but it’s not my state of mind
i’m not as ugly sad as you
or am i origami?
folded up and just pretend
demented as the motives in your head
rendezvous
then i’m through with you)

end.