The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1

Todd looked into the distance at the edge of Battery Park. New York Bay was shrouded in heavy fog.

He raised the collar of his trench coat and tugged at the brim of his fedora, then stuck his long-fingered hands, in tight-fitting brown kid gloves, into his coat pockets.

Dimly, somebody else who was leaning against one of the stone pillars of the arch down at the end of the path on the way out of the park became visible.

Pearl Street was empty, just as the vertical skyscrapers that hovered over its old narrow corridor also were. The bustle of commerce and the tension of the stock market were gone right now, and the two of them walked away from the park along its deserted pavement.

It was not until they got to the Trinity Church that they caught sight of a cab.

My place, Todd said as he held the cab door open for Marty.

2

Marty looked without recollection into Todd’s eyes. He felt like this was the eternal moment. Each nerve was taut, without strain or effort, stretched to the greatest tension. How else could it be now but they kissed, drawn to each other by an energy that was purer than will! And free of the constraints by which the wardens of order shackle us.

Their lips felt each other, pressed against each other and drew them by the suction created by their conjunction into one another. They stretched themselves by their tongues across the boundaries they strove so mightily now to dissolve. They were speaking without words, more deeply, with essences, wordlessly vowing to become one another. Each was not himself if he was not part of the other and if the other was not part of him.

Todd slid his hand under Marty’s t-shirt and felt a chest that made him glad to be alive.

I knew you’d be there. Thank you, he said.

3

The heavy foliage of late spring protected them from the rain. They walked the park side up Fifth Avenue and stopped into the Metropolitan to see the Islamic jewel encrusted daggers. Fascinated by the deep hued stones they took each other’s hand and stared into the daggers’ depths, imagining each other in their farthest reaches.

4

Why did you get married then? Todd asked later as they sat in a juice bar on Lexington Avenue.

I thought she adored me.

You’re vain, Todd said laughing.

Marty didn’t think it was funny and he was hurt that Todd had judged him, classified him, characterized him, laughed at him (?), but he kept it to himself and had to exert some effort to keep it from rankling.

5

The day had gotten nastier. A chill accompanied the rain. They got a cab at Eighty-sixth Street and headed to Riverside Drive. The broad back of the Hudson River, seen through the slightly smoky glass of the bedroom window, was being pounded by the rain which hit the surface and bounced off it like bullets.

Marty pulled Todd to him and pressed his lips hard against his own, but his mind was active. Surrender did not happen but was an effect he was deliberately striving for, albeit unsuccessfully.

He imagined himself surrendering. He imagined himself yielding. He made love to Todd like it was a prayer to be ravished.

6

Mr. Bernside called Marty into his office and shut the door behind him as he entered and invited him to sit on the leather couch underneath what seemed to be an original Matisse, one of the Moroccan series and, smiling, asked if he wanted a drink.

Thank you, Sid, but I’d better not, but what’s the occasion?

The occasion is that When the Stars Won’t Shine has been breaking box-office records despite the general slump and we just sold the film rights to Miramax for more than any Broadway property’s ever gone for.

Marty smiled.

And you’re responsible for our taking it on in the first place, kid.

Sid sat down beside him, trim, elegant, dashing—like the blue silk ivory polka-dot handkerchief sticking out in a perfect peak from the breast pocket of his double breasted, double-pleated navy blue suit and cut from the same cloth as his tie.

Unselfconsciously, with perfect composure, he placed the palm of his right hand around Marty’s neck. He drew him forward and kissed him on the lips with an authority Marty could not resist. Obediently Marty returned the kiss, opening his mouth and surrendering to Bernside. He was at his service. Sid perceived it, and it made his cock spring hard underneath the navy blue boxer briefs inside his trousers.

7

Marjorie adored him, and it didn’t stop her from coming on to him in a hundred little ways that he’d told her he was gay a hundred times.

That almost made it easier for her. She didn’t take it personally when—although he didn’t rebuff her when she touched him—he was unresponsive. No more than would she have been miffed or hurt at the refrigerator for not being a stove.

If you ever lend your body to a guy who’s straight, let me know so I can go to bed with him, she told him ‘neath the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Her arm draped over his shoulder, she was sitting on his lap, wearing L’heure bleu. The marble perfect peripheral globes of her breasts, which asserted themselves beneath the narrow silk triangles that formed the bodice of her little black dress—the skirt stopped up around the thighs—were near enough his lips for him to ravish.

She curled a strand of his wavy hair round her index finger.

You’re lucky I like you, Marty, she said. Otherwise you wouldn’t stand a chance.

Look at the kid from the mail room talking to Sid, he said in return. Don’t you wonder how many times a week he goes to the gym?

8

She got him to her place. She gave him a joint and blew into his ear.

Imagine you were straight, she whispered.

Imagine this warm breath of mine you feel right now on your neck was driving you crazy with desire.

Imagine that desire flooded your belly, she said, placing her hand right above the waistband of his trousers. With the other she pulled loose the knot of his tie.

Imagine how it excited your cock, and she slid her hand down his pants, beneath his belt, and found he was wearing nothing underneath. First her hand gently cupped his balls and she gently caressed them by the shifting pressure of her palm and the spidery dance of her fingers. Then her palm turned around his soft cock. Ever so softly—like the silk against the nipples of her breast—she caressed the glans. She put her lips to his and gave him a kiss like she was taking a bite out of him.

Imagine you are me and I am you.

You don’t have to do anything, she said. Just imagine you’re a woman and I’m a man.

Very passive, I want you to be—very passive.

She let go his cock and balls and slid her hand out of his pants, and under his suit jacket. She felt the tight silk of the black collarless body-shirt he was wearing. She slowly rubbed his breasts as if they were full like a woman’s, even though they were hard flat rocks under her palm. With thumb and index finger she played with the pebble of a nipple.

I want you very passive while I fuck you.

She kissed him again with little biting motions and at the same time undid his belt, undid his zipper, pulled his trousers down and caressed him underneath his balls between his cock and his ass and then pierced his ass-hole with her finger. He gasped and she slapped him lightly on the cheek and bit him on the lips.

Not that way, she said. Entirely passive.

She moved her finger in and out of him, making him take long slow breaths.

His cock became hard and she became wet. She hovered above him, plunging herself into him and retracting, very slowly sliding pussy up and down until nobody knew who had a cock and who had a cunt or who was going in and who was coming out or what difference it made.

9

The glare of the backlights was reflected in the monitor in front of him.

The only thing criminal about marijuana are the marijuana laws punishing people for smoking it, Todd said.

Are you denying it’s a dangerous drug?

As long as it is illegal to use, it is a dangerous drug. Because you can be sent to prison for using it.

Will you admit you’re weaseling out of the question? Marijuana scrambles the brain’s ability to judge accurately. A joint’s got far more nicotine than a tobacco cigarette. It saps people of their initiative. I want to know why you’re denying these facts. What interest do you have in lying?

What interest do you have in sending people to jail?

You refuse to answer the question. Alright. Look. I gotta stop cause we’re up on a hard break. You’re a sick man, but it’s a free country, so you’re free to say anything. Todd Bishop, you’re fun to fight with. Be right back.

And that was it. The monitor showed a car racing down one of Africa’s green hills with a gazelle in full gallop beside it as the sound track had the actual Beatles singing “Gotta Get You into My Life.”

With not an opportunity to say another word, Todd was led by an escort from the studio. The next minute there was only a receptionist and a pinkerton and he was in the front office. He took his trench coat, fedora and scarf off the coat hanger, put them on and saw outside the clear cold January night filled with headlights and neon signs and changing traffic signals. He tugged his fedora forward and walked east to Marty’s place.

Marty was glad to see him and offered him a joint. His apartment was warm and he was only wearing a pair of black leather shorts with side splits. The shorts fit like a glove and they showed off his chest and his upper thighs to advantage.

It is good to see you, he said as Todd took him in his arms.

Marty liked the feel of Todd’s trench coat against his nearly naked body. He lifted the fedora off his head as he kissed him and put it on his own. He shimmied around in his arms the better to feel the cloth of the trench coat rub against his skin, especially the cold bone buttons. Then he took the coat off Todd, draped it over his own shoulders, and gave a little whistle.

Hey, handsome, you are done up.

I just did a television...interview’s not the word.

Marty backed away and tilted his head as he loosened Todd’s tie and started to undo the buttons of his shirt as if he were estimating the value of a precious stone.

I’m gonna suck a celebrity cock. Gee whiz, he said, slowly, like a limbo dancer, sinking to his knees.