The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘Lord May’

(mc, nc, f/f, mf)


This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and non-consensual relationships. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.


Copyright © 2001 Tabico () All rights reserved; this story is not to be reproduced in any form for profit without the express written permission of the author. This story may be freely circulated only in its entirety and with this notice attached.

* * *

‘Lord May’

Part Two

* * *

“Hello, Holly,” I said. “Is Lord May in?”

She smiled. “Hi, Tom. Lord told me you’d come by—and that you said to say ‘Hi’ to me. That was thoughtful. Yeah, he’s here. You two want to come in? I’ll get him.”

The house looked the same as it had before. I’m not sure why I was expecting something different. Maybe I expected something to materialize that screamed “alternative lifestyle”—I don’t know what, a set of Nagel prints or maybe a dildo on the end table. But no, the place was as tasteful as it had been, oriental wall hangings, dark wood furniture.

Emily and I walked into the living room as Holly disappeared down the hall. She wasn’t in a fluffy pink bathrobe this time, but a large men’s shirt. I didn’t look to see if she had on panties. Well, not for long. She had great legs, though.

There was some discussion upstairs, and then Holly came down with Lord May’s canes. She smiled at us, and then he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, having used the railings to descend. Holly handed him his canes, and he propelled himself into the living room. He was smiling.

“Ah, the Strongs. Welcome back. I can only surmise that you are here in response to my little gift?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It was... interesting.”

“I had hoped you might find it so. Please,” he said, gesturing with one cane, “sit.” I realized that his legs must still support him, as he couldn’t stand on just one cane, so it was only motor control he was lacking.

We sat down on a deep green futon, and Lord May sat opposite us on an elaborate wooden chair, with green upholstered arms and seat that matched the futon. Holly remained standing behind an easy chair.

“Holly,” he said, “be a dear and bring us some tea.” He faced us. “Milk and sugar?”

“Just milk,” Emily replied. “Me too,” I said.

“You got it,” Holly said, and walked into the kitchen.

“So,” Lord May asked, “tell me.”

“Well, we used it,” I said. “And we heard the woman at the, ah, other end.”

“Good, good,” he said. “She enjoyed it?”

“It sure as hell sounded like it,” Emily answered. “Enjoyed it quite a bit.”

“Excellent.” He leaned back in the chair. “I am afraid I must ask for the control back. Not necessarily right now, mind you, but at some point. It is, as you would say, a ‘loaner’ only. Samantha would not want complete strangers controlling her for too long.”

“Samantha?” Emily asked.

“That is her name, yes.”

“So you—or we—push a button, and Samantha cums?”

Lord May chuckled. “In a sense, yes. More precisely, you push a button and Samantha is stimulated. The control allows one to set the level of pleasure, or pain, that she feels.”

“Pain?” I asked.

“Ah, you didn’t try that end? Pity. I find women can be quite... aroused by pain, in certain circumstances.”

“How does it work?” asked Emily. “Is it a vibrator?”

“Nothing so crude, I assure you,” Lord May replied. “Though that sort of sexual toy has its place. The control is, well, merely a remote control. The technology is simple. As for the receiver... I think an example is in order. Holly?”

“Yes, Lord?” came her voice from the kitchen.

“Come in here, please.”

“Just a second. The tea is ready.”

“Holly is, ah, hooked up?” I asked.

“Oh yes.”

“So you can just zap her at any time.”

“Of course,” Lord May said, “That’s part of the thrill. Not knowing what you’re going to get. That’s why there is that minute warning before it hits. Not just so that she can remove herself from any potentially compromising situations, but to give her... anticipation. Something is coming, something she cannot stop or control, and she doesn’t know just what it will be.”

“It’s fucking fantastic,” Holly said, entering the room with a tray. “It feels so good just getting the warning pulse, because it lets you know how helpless you are. And then, if it’s strong...” She rolled her eyes. “Wow. It’s incredible.” She handed around cups and saucers.

Lord May took his daintily. “Holly, my dear, be so good as to show the Strongs your circuitry.”

Holly smiled at us, reached down, and pulled up the bottom of the shirt.

She was wearing panties, after all, but I didn’t even see them for a moment. Her entire crotch was covered with, well, with circuits. Painted on or something. An array of thin black lines, ruler-straight or bending at thirty degree angles. They radiated from the center of her crotch, beneath her panties. From the center point beneath the pale green cotton, they streaked up her belly, radiated out onto her hips, and slid down her thighs. The ones on her hips and thighs frequently terminated in little round circles.

It looked just like she had a network of printed circuits centered on her pussy.

Emily’s jaw was open.

“Wow,” I said.

Holly smiled a little wider, and turned around. Her back looked the same as her front, though the lines clustered more in the cleft of her ass and then spread out and raced up her back, interrupted by a palm-sized glossy black disk, just above the little V surmounting her buttocks.

“Wow,” Emily said. “Are those tattoos?”

“Not exactly,” Lord May replied. He looked up at Holly. “Thank you, Holly, you may join us for tea now.” She smiled and dropped the shirt hem, which fell back down, covering the tracery of black lines that decorated her. Now that I knew what I was looking at, I could see individual lines still, on her long tanned legs and up in her cleavage. She pushed her chest out a bit, and I realized as I looked up at her face that I’d been staring. And that she approved.

I looked back at Emily. She was still staring.

“Not exactly?” I asked, turning to Lord May.

“They are ink, yes, and the ones on Holly are at least semi-permanent. But I paint them on. Needles in such sensitive areas... well, I prefer to not have to use them.”

“You paint them on?”

“Precisely so. It is a very painstaking process, mind you. It takes a full day, at the least. More for such a comprehensive collection of circuits as Holly has. But I have developed a special ink which is pulled deep into the skin. Generally, it wears off with the skin, but if I apply it thick enough, it reaches more permanent layers.”

“I couldn’t imagine ever wanting them taken off,” Holly said. “So I asked him to do me forever.”

“And, amusing double entendre aside, that is what I did,” Lord May said. He sipped his tea.

“How.. how do they work?” asked Emily.

“You saw the disk on her back? That is both a receiver for the signal and a battery. It sends out very select electrical pulses along the circuits I have drawn onto her, which activate specific nerve clusters in specific patterns.” He sipped his tea again. “I am not boasting when I say it has taken a lifetime of work to reach the stage I am at today.”

“He’s a genius,” Holly said. “His knowledge of the human body is incredible. And as Tom saw, he’s also an electronics whiz.”

Lacking a coherent question, I sipped at my tea.

“So, Samantha is... painted like that?” Emily asked.

“Samantha has a much smaller set of circuits, and hers will wear off in a few months, but yes, she is configured similarly.”

Emily inhaled deeply. “It’s a dumb question, but I have to ask. They go all the way up, don’t they?”

Holly laughed, and Lord May smiled. “Oh yes. ‘All the way up’, indeed. The application chair has stirrups. It’s not a pleasure for the bashful.”

“Why?” I asked. “I mean, I can kind of see why a woman might like it, kind of, but why do you do it? It seems like you could do any number of other things.”

“Ah,” Lord May replied, “an incisive question. But one with a simple answer. I enjoy it. I enjoy attaching a remote control to a woman’s sexuality. I enjoy the fact that they enjoy it. You see, as you have probably surmised, I am effectively paralyzed from the waist down. Yes, that includes my penis. But although unable to enjoy sex myself, I do enjoy helping others to enjoy it, particularly in this fashion. You liked my little present, didn’t you? Not only did Samantha like what you did to her, but you both enjoyed doing it. I’d stake my not inconsiderable fortune on it. And that’s what I enjoy doing. I am wealthy enough not to have to work, and intelligent enough to require a challenge. And I like making people, particularly pretty girls, get off.”

* * *

The only way that our visit to Lord May’s could have not distracted me for several days was for things at work to blow up, but that’s exactly what they did. The very day after he explained the remote control, and Holly showed us the lines he had printed on her (enough to distract me even had they been only decoration, and they were so much more) our outside sales guy landed an account. A big account. A VERY big account. His initials were U.S.

Of course, when your yearly sales quadruple in one sale, you have to make certain exceptions for that particular customer. To seal the deal, we had some pretty significant modifications to make, and the whole company went into the spin cycle. I arrived in the morning expecting an average day of feature specifications and bug reports, and didn’t get home until eleven.

The next day I didn’t get home at all.

Emily was, just like me, both annoyed and excited. I’d signed on with the company early enough that the stock bounce from this was worth hundreds of thousands to us, but for two weeks she only knew I lived there from the wet towel on the shower door in the morning.

We handed off the special version that clinched the sale exactly two weeks and four days later. The next day, Wednesday, I took my whole team to lunch and told them not to come back until the following Monday.

Emily got home at six. I was in the living room, reading the paper; when I heard her come to the door, I hopped up and opened it before she could get her keys out. She gave a small shriek.


“What?” I held the door open. “You were expecting maybe Charles Manson?”

“I just—you haven’t been home...”

“Well, I am now. We finished the version, shipped it, and got the contract.”

“So that means...”

“That’s right.” I grinned. “We’re not a startup anymore. You’re looking at the engineering lead for a company with ten million in revenue.”

She flung her arms around me, and we staggered back into the house.

After some rejoicing, I got around to closing the door, and Emily changed out of her work clothes. We opened a bottle of Riesling for dinner, and talked about the future.

I was washing up the dishes when Emily came into the kitchen.

“Tom,” she began, and I heard the hesitancy immediately.

“What is it?” I asked, putting down the pan and turning to face her, yellow gloves still sud-encrusted on my hands.

“I went over to Lord May’s again.”

“You did? When?”

“Last week. I wanted... I wanted to see Holly’s ink.”

“You mean those circuits she’s painted with? The ones that hook her up to that remote control?” The memory of Holly’s body under the shirt came rushing back to me.

“Yeah. I wanted to see them.”

“I thought we already had.”

“I wanted... well, I wanted to see just how... far they went.”

I looked at her in mild disbelief. “You asked her to show you her...?”


A blob of suds dropped to the floor. I thought about it. “Huh. So did she?”

“Yeah,” she said with an exhalation. “She did.”

“Wow,” I said. “And?”

“Well, they were... like you’d expect, I guess. Her, ah, lips were entirely black with ink, and the lines all connected to them. I didn’t, um, look at her, ah, backside.”

“Huh,” I said again.

“Are you okay with it?”

I chuckled. “Sure I am. Frankly, I’m really curious myself. I thought you weren’t interested in girls, though.”

“Oh,” she said quickly, “I’m not. No no—you know that. I mean, there was that that time with Aimee and Trevor, and Aimee was totally cute but she just didn’t do anything for me. No, I just wanted to see, you know.”

“What did Holly think?”

“She thought it was great.” Emily chuckled. “Offered to show them to me any time. You too. She said...”

“Said what?”

“Said I should try them.”

I was about to laugh, when I realized that Emily was not. I blinked.

“Wait a minute, Emily. Are you actually thinking about it?”

She looked away from me, and said in a quiet voice, “Sort of.”

“Really?” I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t considered that she might actually think about it.

It was surprising, and a little scary, and very, very erotic. Emily, my wife, beautiful inside and out like no one else, wanted to let herself be painted into a remote controlled woman. The thought of it stirred feelings I hadn’t realized I’d had.

“Tom?” She was staring at me, and I realized I must have spaced out.

“I’m here,” I said.

“What do you think?”

I inhaled. “I think it’s really erotic,” I replied, feeling vulnerable in my admission.

Her eyes flicked wider. “Really? I’m so glad to hear that. I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t okay with you, you know that.”

“I do,” I said. “But it sounds... well, it sounds so... kinky.”

“Yeah,” she replied, stepping over the puddle my gloves had left on the floor and hugging me. “God, it gives me shivers just thinking about having it done to me. Being painted all over my pussy, and then being at the whim of a little beige-colored plastic box. Little circuits pulling my pleasure strings like a marionette. Cumming on command.”

“Sounds like you’ve been thinking about this,” I observed.

“For weeks. I... I really want to do it.”

I looked at her. “You want to do it. You really want to let Lord May hook you up to one of those devices?”

“Yeah. It’s all I could think about at work for days. Having a box out there, somewhere, that could give me an orgasm at any time. Or... or a shock.” She looked at me, and there was a glitter in her eyes that I didn’t recognize. She was speaking quickly, and there was a sense of need in her voice that she almost never had. “He told me that he could give me one temporarily, it wouldn’t be permanent or anything, but I could try it, see what it’s like. Oh, Tom, I, I want to do it. I really do. It’s scary but it’s all I can think about.”

She fell silent, staring at me. “Well,” I replied slowly, “if you want to... you are sure that it’s not permanent or anything?”

“Oh, totally. Oh, Tom, thank you, thank you, I hoped you’d understand. If you’d said ‘no’, I would have always wondered.” She squeezed me, and laughed softly. “Oh, God, Tom, now I’m scared, though. Oh, maybe I shouldn’t do this.”

“It’s up to you, love. Um... if you do do it, who would have the, ah, remote control?”

She looked at me as though the question was totally unexpected. “Why, you, of course. You’re my husband. No one gets to play with my sexuality except you.”

“And Lord May?”

“He’d have to touch me, of course. To install it. It’s link ink, that he paints onto your skin, to make circuits. He wouldn’t tell me exactly how the application worked, at least not unless I decided to do it. And... I’ll have to be... shaved. And he’ll have to paint me. But no sex. Heh. Besides, with girls like Holly and Rebecca around, I bet he gets more than enough. Why would he want me?”

‘Because you’re so beautiful,’ I thought, but what I said was “And what does he want us to pay him?”

“Nothing. He says that it’s his art, and other stuff like that. Frankly, I think he doesn’t get many girls asking him to hook them up.”

“He seems to have a fair amount of traffic. I’ve seen at least a dozen women over there.”

“I don’t think any of them paid, either. It’s what he likes to do, and I guess it’s hard enough to get volunteers that he’s happy to do it for free.”

“Honey, you’re a lawyer. Do you really believe that?”

She chuckled, nervously. “No. But I want to. Oh, Tom, I need to do this. I’ve been fantasizing about it. It’s so... kinky. To be so close to your sexuality at any second. Every second.” She grabbed my hand. “But only if you’re in charge of it, love. I couldn’t do this without someone I trust.”

“If you want to do it, Emily, I’m okay with it. We’ve never regretted that time with Sal and Janice in Houston, have we?”

“No. I’m gonna do it. I... I’ll walk over there right now and set up a time to do it. He says it takes most of the day—I can have it done on Saturday. Have it done,” she repeated softly, eyes distant, “have it done to me.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I need you to.”

* * *

The wait was murder. Lord May wouldn’t let me watch him apply the ink, although Holly came and went as she pleased, and even Rebecca stopped by and was allowed upstairs. I sat around his living room for an hour and a half, until Holly came down for some juice and told me it would be another several hours. So I went home.

Of course, I couldn’t do anything there, either. I watched teevee in three-minute snippets before I was looking at the door. I couldn’t read. I couldn’t eat. As darkness began to fall, I was a wreck.

The door chime sounded. I knew it was her. Heart pounding, I leapt from the sofa and opened the door.

Emily was standing there, with a completely neutral expression. I hadn’t quite known what to expect, but she was fully dressed, and looked just like she had when we walked over for her ‘appointment’. My mouth opened to say something, but she slowly raised a hand and held a finger over her lips, and I fell silent, mouth still open.

From the pocket of her raincoat, she slowly took out a white, plastic box. She lifted my hand from my side, and put the box into it.

Then she asked, “May I come in?”

I stepped aside, and she walked into the house. My insides were tight with tension, a little worry, and a lot of excitement. I closed the door and watched Emily walk into the family room. She was walking a little strangely, slightly bow-legged, not letting her legs touch. She turned around.

“Well,” she said in a soft voice, “it’s done. I’ve been,” and she smiled a faint echo of her crooked smile, “installed.”

The dam burst. “Are you okay?” I asked, putting down her... controller on the back of the sofa and hurrying over to hold her. She returned my hug listlessly, passively. I stepped back, and looked at her.

“Emily? Are you okay?”

She raised her eyes to meet my gaze. “Yeah, I’m okay. It was more... draining than I had expected. But I’m fine. Just kind of burnt out.”

“Do you need to lie down?”

“I need to show you what he did to me.”

My racing heart skipped another beat.

She took off her raincoat, and slung it over the easy chair. Then she pulled her blue cashmere sweater up over her head, tossing it on top of the raincoat. Her breasts fell free and distracted me the way they always did. She was wearing a white maidenform bra. She gave me a quick, empty look, and then pulled off her loose slacks.

The matching white panties were gone. Instead, she was wearing a some sort of skin-tight clear undergarment. It looked like a pair of bicycle shorts made out of a translucent flesh-toned plastic. And under that...

The undergarment wasn’t clear, and her skin underneath it was blurry. But as far as I could tell, Emily’s crotch, thighs, and lower stomach were covered in straight, smoothly bending black lines, just like printed circuitry. She slowly turned around, and I could see that the lines emerged from the cleft of her buttocks and branched all over her lower back, like the branches of a tree. Wherever they stopped, there was a little circle. Just over her buttocks was the large black circle, where the black plastic dome that was the battery pack and receiver was already attached. She was ready to go.

She turned back to face me, and I realized that she had also been totally shaved, the black pattern clutching her entire public region in a nest of thin lines and perfect small circles.

“God,” I breathed. “It’s... really something.”

“The shorts are just there to keep the ink from rubbing off while it soaks into my skin. After a day, I can take them off.”

“Soaks in? How long...?”

“A month, before I shed enough skin to start breaking connections. It’ll all be gone in about three months.” She paused. “Unless I get it re-applied.”

“Wow,” I said. Words failed.

She smiled, softly. “Yeah. Wow. It’s done. I’m at the whim of the remote control.”

“It looks... wow.”

“It’s really something, isn’t it?”

I raised my finger, touched the plastic shorts over the little circular terminator of one of the lines. “It’s beautiful,” I said, tracing the circuit slowly back down to her crotch. She made a soft whimpering noise, trembled, and her legs gave way; she collapsed onto the sofa.

“Oh God,” she said, suddenly, “I’m so horny.” She looked at me. “Lord May’s been painting my pussy all day, and I’m so fucking horny.” She leaned back into the sofa, and threw her legs wide. “Look.”

I leaned down. The traceries of black lines made a delicate yet orderly pattern all across her labia, leaving more black than pink. The hood of her clitoris was solid black, lines radiating out from it. Somehow, the very nature of her genitalia, soft and organic, made the black circuit lines drawn onto them seem that much more artificial, robotic. An unemotional order imposed on that most emotional part of her body.

“Tom,” she said, “Zap me. Please, zap me. I can’t—we can’t—smear the ink, not yet, but the circuits are all ready for current. Please, use the box on me.”

I reached for the controller. Peach colored plastic, just like... whatever her name’s was. It looked like an inexpensive toy. I guess the very cheapness of it, a thing controlling a human being, was a statement. And this one controlled Emily. I looked at it.

“Say, there’s an extra slider on this one.”

“Yeah,” she said, “that’s the delay. You can set it to four minutes, or down to nothing. It’s already on nothing, so you hit the button, I jerk.”

The need in her voice caught my attention. I looked at her, sitting at the other end of the sofa. She was slowly sliding her hands up and down her plastic shorts, not pushing, just sliding. Moaning and sliding her hands along her plastic panties.

“Oh, God, Tom,” she whined, “I can’t help myself. Zap me before I really start masturbating and smear the ink.”

It was in my hand. It was the same type of little plastic box as the other one had been.

But it was Emily. The box controlled Emily. The nest of circuitry that gripped her crotch in a tight mesh of black lines would have her jumping whenever it pulsed.

“Tooooommmm” Emily moaned. Both hands were pushing at her snatch, now, knuckles rising and falling.

I slid the P slider to the right. I put my finger over the button.

Emily’s hand reached out and pushed the I slider all the way to the right, then darted back to her pussy. “Hit me,” she hissed.

I pushed the button.

Emily screamed, and arced her back like she had been electrocuted. She began a series of high-pitched grunts, thrusting her crotch forward as though she had an invisible lover. Slowly, she grew less frantic, quieter, and then collapsed bonelessly onto the couch.

“Emily?” I asked.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, staring into space. “I didn’t know anything... anything could feel like that.” She looked at me. “Zap me again. A little softer.”

I zapped her again.

* * *

I was on the couch, watching the Raiders mop up the Seahawks in the fourth quarter. At least, my eyes were. When Emily came down from the upstairs office, though, every thought was listening to her footsteps.

“Tom,” she said from behind me, “it’s time.”

The remote control dropped to the floor as I vaulted up from the sofa. Emily was in the hall, wearing a robe, loosely. I could see the black traceries on her lower belly between the green terrycloth flaps.

Without speaking, she led me into the bedroom, and dropped the robe. She was breathing hard. Turning to face me, she held up a pair of scissors. I watched as she slowly cut the plastic shorts down one hip, then switched to the other. They clung to her still, the slits in the sides visible only when lifted by the scissors.

“Here goes,” she said, gripping the front corners of the shorts, and peeling down. They came off with a rubbery sucking sound, and then were dangling from her hands, transparent. She tossed them into the bathroom as I stepped forward.

I knelt in front of her. She smelled vaguely of latex, but the lines were what held my attention. They looked almost stamped, flowing perfectly along the contours of her shaven mons, bent just enough to match the flesh and thus appear straight. I raised a finger to touch them.

“Be gentle,” Emily whispered. “I’m really... sensitive... right now.”

My finger just barely brushed her, but she stiffened and gasped as I traced a line from where it terminated in a tiny black circle just beyond her hipbone, down slowly across her flesh to her labia, themselves painted with black lines and circles. Emily was breathing hard.

“Tom,” she said, “do you like it? Like them?”

“Emily,” I said, “they’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She moaned. “Fuck me. Right now. God, I need it.”

I’d zapped her a dozen times already that morning, but obviously it had only whetted her appetite.

As I stood up, she attacked my pants, tearing at the buttons and shoving them down my legs, underwear bunched in among them. My prick bounced out, totally hard already.

“Aren’t you going to pull off the other half of the pants?” I said into her ear, as she grabbed my cock, pushed up against me, and tried to slide herself down on it.

“Later,” she hissed, then wailed softly in satisfaction as she pushed down onto my cock. Grabbing her still plastic-covered ass, I held her and waddled towards the bed.

* * *

END Part Two