The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter Twelve

Julia turned on the radio of her hire car. A smooth electro-pop beat began to pipe through the quad speakers of the car, drowning out the air conditioning. She did not know the tune, but it was pleasant enough to drive to. An electronic purr curled through the background of the song, and then the lyrics kicked in.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

They were the kind of high intelligence lyrics Julia was used to in modern pop songs. Well, what the hell.

I just can’t get you out of my head,

Boy your lovin’ is all I think about.

I just can’t get you out of my head,

Boy it’s more than I dare to think about.

She turned the radio off and the music died a sudden death. Images of Michael surfaced in her mind unbidden. Images of him fucking her over the breakfast table. Images of him eating her pussy while Lucy looked in. Images of him buried to the hilt in Lucy’s cunt as the blonde cheerleader rode him to climax.

She shook her head to try to clear it and turned the last corner into the parking lot of the hotel she was staying at. Thoughts of Michael were lost in the hassle of checking into a hotel.

Full from a very fine evening meal and pleasantly inebriated from a couple of glasses of a very nice Zinfandel, Julia pushed the door of her room shut with her back and kicked off her heels. She rubbed her feet and walked down the short hall into the room. Her dress was next, a conservative little number in her view, cut to below mid-thigh. She unzipped it at the back and allowed it to slide to the floor. She sighed as the air conditioned atmosphere of the room touched her bare skin, and then headed toward the bathroom, thumping a button (any button) on the TV remote control as she passed it. She made it into the bathroom before the TV kicked into life and sound started coming out.

I just can’t get you out of my head,

Boy your lovin’ is all I think about.

Julia spat water over the bathroom mirror and darted out into the hall. Was someone trying to mess with her head?

I just can’t get you out of my head,

Boy it’s more than I dare to think about.

Every night, every day.

Just to be there in your arms.

On the screen, a little blonde nymphet in a white, cowl-necked gown cut so that the front fell between her breasts to below her belly button, was bopping away in a manner that should have displayed her assets to all the world.

Won’t you stay?

Won’t you lay?

Stay forever, and ever, and ever, and ever.

La, la, la...

Julia had no idea who the girl was, but she had a body to die for. She looked a bit like the girl that ran the coffee shop, but with less chest.

I just can’t get you out of my head...

Flickering images of Lucy’s face looking up with her tongue busy on Julia’s clit danced before her eyes. She same image, but she could see Michael pumping into the blonde’s pussy at the same time.

...it’s more than I dare to think about.

There’s a dark secret in me,

Don’t leave me locked in your heart.

Set me free.

Feel the need in me...

Julia let out a small moan and stabbed the off button on the remote. The voice died and Julia threw herself onto the bed. She reached for the phone.

“Michael,” his mother yelled up the stairs. “Phone. It’s Lucy.”

Michael stretched and picked up the cordless phone from his bedside table. He waited until his mother put her extension down and then said, “Hi, lover, feeling wet?”

“Michael? Sorry, it’s not Lucy, it’s Julia. I didn’t want your mother knowing it was me.”

Shit. “Um, sorry Miss...”

“Michael, please can we go back to you calling me Julia?” There was a slight note of pleading in her voice and Michael knew then that he had been forgiven.

“So, I thought you were in Atlanta?” he said.

“I am, thank goodness for AT&T calling cards.”

He grinned, though she could not see it. “You didn’t have to call me just to tell me to use your first name, y’know.”

“True. Thing is, I’m being haunted by a blonde singer.”

“Beg pardon?”

Julia laughed, a musical, happy sound. Michael felt better about himself than he had all week. “I needed to hear your voice, Michael. Just talk to me. What have you been doing today?”

“Fucking mostly,” he replied. “I needed to make up with Lucy, like you said, and she very much wanted to do something depraved. We happened to meet a girl I screwed once; she runs that coffee shop at the bottom of the office building you took me to.” Visions of the coffee girl, breasts hanging out of a white gown danced before Julia’s eyes. “Lucy and I went off with her and enjoyed ourselves a lot.” Michael knew his conversational skills were limited. Time to turn the tables. “What’s your room like? Describe it to me.”

Julia looked around the room and sighed. “Typical Corporate America-style hotel room,” she said. “The walls are beige and papered. There’s a band of patterned paper up at the top of the wall that’s supposed to be decorative. Green and red swirls on it. I’ve got two paintings, well prints, to look at. There’s an obnoxious little girl in a frilly pink dress, and a landscape, a Turner I think.”

Michael closed his eyes and began to imagine the room Julia was telling him about. “There are two queen-size beds. I don’t like kings when I’m sleeping alone and I had no plans for picking anyone up this trip.” She sounded lonely then. “The headboard runs between both beds, there are stupid little cabinets that aren’t much use for putting anything in. The main storage space is out in the hall, next to the bathroom. That’s about it.”

“No TV? What about the lights? Don’t you have windows?”

“Oh, yeah, there’s a TV cabinet with some drawers under it. There’s a desk in the corner with another phone on it and one of those high-speed network connection boxes. It’s a fake-leather top thing, pretty tacky. Two spot halogen bulbs in the ceiling, but I’ve just got one of the bedside lights on. The whole wall opposite is glass. I suppose I should close the curtains.”

“What about you? Where are you sitting? What are you wearing?”

Julia felt her breath quicken as she thought about her answer. “I’m lying on the bed nearest the door. There’s a phone beside the bed here and I’m calling you on that. I took my shoes off when I came into the room, they were high heeled sandals. I ate a lot for dinner so my dress was feeling a bit tight when I came in. I took that off, too. It was a little black thing with a scooped neck.”

“How long?” he asked. His voice sounded breathy.

“Mid-thigh. It’s the longest one I have that isn’t floor length. It’s quite fitted though, and lined. I should have known it would get uncomfortable. It’s on the floor beside the bed.”

“So, what does that leave you wearing?” he breathed.

“Thigh-highs with a three-inch lace pattern at the top,” she said. “A stretch lace thong. Black and skimpy. Oh, and a black lace bra that’s cut quite low on my breasts. You can just see the tops of my areolas above the lace.” She could hear Michael breathing at the other end of the phone; it seemed a little harder than usual. She could understand the feeling.

“Mmm, yeah, I can just see you lying there, Julia,” Michael said. “You look good, I think.”

“Why thank you kind sir,” she replied with a giggle.

“I think you’d look better without that bra, though,” he said. “Why don’t you undo it?”

“Okay. I have to sit up to reach the hooks. One gone, the second one. There, I’m free. I’m slipping the shoulder strap down one arm now. I have to swap the phone to the other hand so I can get the other strap off. Ooh! The air’s cold on my skin, my nipples are standing up.”

“Are they hard?”

“Oh, very hard.”

“Touch one of them. Stroke it. Squeeze it.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s good. What now, Michael?”

Michael was distracted by a need to unzip his jeans before his cock split them open. “How about you slide your hand down that lovely flat stomach of yours? Slide it down to your panties.”

“Yes?”

“Now slip your fingers into your panties.”

“Umm, yes.”

“Are you wet? Are you waiting for your fingers to find your clit?”

“Ah, yes.”

Michael felt like he could really see her stretching her arm down under the front of her thong, her fingers tenting the fabric. “Or would you prefer my cock inside you? Is that what you want?”

“Oh, Michael, yes, that’s want I want. I want to feel that big swollen shaft of yours inside me.”

“Open your legs out for me,” he groaned.

“I’ve spread them wide apart,” she replied.

Here I come,” he said and, in his mind’s eye, he drove into her pussy through the fabric of her thong.

In an Atlanta hotel room, Julia felt Michael’s cock enter her pussy. It felt so good, lying there with her knees spread apart, to have him fucking her again that for a brief instant she failed to realise that he was not actually there. “Ooooh, yeah, that feels so good. Yes, Michael, fuck me hard.” His cock slid out almost all the way and then began a pounding rhythm in her vagina. She gasped in pleasure and surprise. “I can feel you, Michael. I can really feel you!” The pumping action did not stop, in fact it got faster. Julia’s eyes glazed over. “Fuck me, Michael, fuck me harder.”

In his bedroom, Michael could feel the velvet gloved fist of Julia’s pussy wrapped around his cock. He was, he knew, imagining it, but it felt real. He heard her voice asking for him to fuck her and he complied, driving his shaft deep into her cunt in a manner that would have been too violent if she had really been under him.

Julia pulled her hand out of her panties and grabbed hold of a nipple, pulling and twisting, trying to break it off. Her pussy felt as though it was being abused by a hammer-action drill and she loved it. An orgasm was building deep inside her and when it arrived she knew the neighbours would here her.

Michael had to drop the phone as Julia began screaming out her climax into his ear. He didn’t stop his pounding into her imaginary body, however. He could feel her thrashing against him, her heels pressed into the small of his back as he rode her to his own climax. He sagged onto the bed and picked up the phone again.

“Th-that was incredible,” he said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he heard from the other end of the phone line. “I really must talk to you about doing the impossible, you know.” She sighed. “I’d better go clean up and get some rest,” she said. “I have a meeting in the morning.”

Michael realised he had cum in his shorts. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I need a shower myself.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he heard her say, “and you can do that again.”

Chapter Thirteen

Lucy opened her eyes to find herself looking at a pair of feet. This was pretty odd, but the fact that seemed to be upside down was stranger. She tried to rearrange the view, and found she could barely move, and that was when she realised she was hanging upside down in a suspension frame, her arms stretched out to the sides and her legs spread wide. She was also quite naked apart from her collar.

“Hi, Lucy.” It was Michael’s voice, which was reassuring. She looked up (down?) and saw that the feet were his. “It occurred to me that the only person who didn’t get tied up this afternoon was you,” he said. “So I thought we should rectify that.” He brought his hand around from behind his back so that she could see the cat-o-nine-tails-style whip he was holding. “And I thought it might be interesting to see what a little thrashing did for you.”

“No, Michael, I’m really not into...” He brought the lash down across one of her legs. “Oh! That... didn’t hurt.” Actually, it had felt quite good, like a hundred tiny points of pleasure flashing down the length of her leg.

“I’ll have to try somewhere else then,” said Michael, and he walked around to the back of the frame. “Here, perhaps.” The lash smacked into her back and Lucy lurched forward in her frame letting out a small whimper. “How was that?”

Lucy could not speak. The sensation had been a wonderful combination of stinging pain and intense pleasure. “N-not sure,” she got out before another stroke of the whip caught her over her lower back and bottom. “Ooh!” Another stroke in the same place and Lucy had a feeling that something about what was happening was not right. Her pussy was getting wet and her nipples were up. Each stroke of the whip seemed to drive into her pleasure centres as well as stinging her skin.

She was also feeling a little drunk. The blood was rushing to her head making her feel light-headed. Another strike of the whip caught her across the shoulders and she let out a moan. The next was high, wrapping around her inner thigh. It should have been painful, but the pleasure overcame the hurt, and Lucy felt an orgasm beginning.

Michael appeared in front of her once more, standing to the side. The lash came down across her stomach. “Oh, god, Michael, what’s happening to me?”

He smiled, bringing the whip down across her breasts. Her eyes closed as the leather strips cut into the sensitive skin, but the sensation of pleasure was intense enough that she almost came. “This is a dream, lover, and here things work how I want. If I want you to feel pleasure from the whip...” It fell across her breasts again and Lucy’s body thrashed in her tethers.

“C-can’t take much more,” she groaned out.

“Really,” Michael replied, and brought the lash down between her legs. The leather felt like torture, biting into the skin of her pussy and ass, but it also felt like the best fuck she had had in ages. The lash fell again and Lucy’s climax flared through her body like mains electricity. She thrashed in the frame as the lash came down once more, piling pleasure on pain on pleasure. Another stroke and her body stiffened, back arched, muscles locked in ecstasy.

She collapsed then, her breathing ragged and her heart pounding. The frame held her up and she was glad for it; she knew she could not stand. She managed to look up to see Michael smiling down at her, then the world seemed to twist and she was lying in a white bed among huge pillows, and Michael was beside her.

“God, but you’re a wonderful bastard at times, Michael,” she whispered.

“Thank you, I think.”

“How about fucking my brains out now?”

Michael slipped on top of her and she felt the head of his cock settling between her pussy lips. “I think that could be arranged,” he said.

The following day Lucy met Michael at the mall, but today she was in jeans and a T-shirt. “Not your usual dressing-up clothes these days,” Michael commented as she sipped her coffee.

“No, but last night’s dream had a result I wasn’t expecting,” she replied. She pushed back in her seat and pulled the front of her shirt up so that he could see her stomach. Slim, red lines could be seen across her skin; whip marks.

“Shit! D-do they hurt?”

“Surprisingly, no. Even the ones across my pussy.”

Michael went bright pink. “Um, wow, I’m sorry, Lucy. It was just a dream; there shouldn’t be any effects like that.” He took a gulp of coffee. “I’ll ask Julia about it when she calls tonight.”

“She’s talking to you again then?”

“Oh yeah.” He grinned. “We had a really interesting conversation yesterday evening.”

“This sounds like something I want to hear about. C’mon, spill.”

“Well, it could happen,” Julia said. “I told you that stuff in the astral plane can affect the real world sometimes.”

“This was in the dream world, not the astral.”

Julia shrugged, an ineffectual action over the phone. “Shit happens,” she said. “You have unusual talent, be careful with it. I’d imagine if you can create the marks on her body, you can also fix them in the dream and she won’t have them when she wakes up.”

“Okay,” Michael said. It was not the answer he had hoped, but it would have to do, he guessed. “Where are you sitting?” he asked, a smile playing over his mouth. “What are you wearing?”

Julia shivered in anticipation at his words. “I’m sitting at the little desk, beside the window. I was late getting back after my meeting so I ordered room service and I’ve just finished eating. I haven’t undressed yet; I’m still wearing my business suit. Sheer silk blouse, tailored jacket, skirt to mid-thigh, black, seamed stockings, and my heeled sandals.”

“Have you drawn the curtains yet?”

“No, let me just...”

“Stop! Stand up and turn to face the window. What can you see?”

She looked out into the Atlanta night. “About two hundred years away, across the hotel parking lot and the road, is another hotel. I can see various room lights on, some have closed drapes. One of the parking lot lights is right below me; it shines in through the window if I don’t draw the curtains.”

“Good. Take off your jacket,” he commanded.

She unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it off one shoulder, swapping the phone to her other hand before allowing the jacket to drop to the floor behind her. “It’s off,” she told him.

“Now unbutton your blouse. Don’t take it off yet, just let it hang open.” He waited while her fingers undid the little pearl buttons. Her breathing was getting harder and Michael’s mind filled with the view standing beside her looking out into the night. Her right hand working out of sight behind her body, only the movement of her arm betrayed what was happening.

“That’s done,” she whispered.

“What are you wearing under it?”

“A white lace, half-cup bra,” she breathed. “It opens at the front.”

“Undo the hooks. Now put a hand up to one of those gorgeous nipples of yours.” In his mind’s eye, Michael walked up behind her. “Squeeze it, Julia.” He heard a moan from the other end of the phone. “Squeeze it hard for me.”

“Um, yes.”

“Look across the street, Julia. Imagine all the eyes that could be watching you from the hotel. They’re watching you squeeze on your tit. And now they’re going to watch you take off your blouse and your bra. Do it for me, Julia. Do it for all those people watching you.”

Drawing in a ragged breath, Julia slipped her blouse off one shoulder, then the other. The bra came with it, and the two items of clothing dropped to the ground behind her making barely a sound. Michael imagined himself standing beside her, reaching around to cup her breasts in his hands. He reached out to gently grip her nipples, pulling on them a little, and Julia groaned. “All those eyes, Julia,” he whispered. “All those eyes watching me squeeze your breasts. Watching this wanton woman standing in a window while her breasts are fondled by a younger man. Take off your skirt.”

“Um, don’t stop doing that,” she moaned, but her hands were busy at her side unhooking and unzipping her skirt. The pin-striped wool fell into a pool around her feet and she stepped out of it, kicking it aside.

“What are you wearing under it?”

“The stockings are a match for the ones I was wearing yesterday; stay-ups with a three-inch pattern. I’m wearing a white lace g-string with them, nothing else.”

“Take off your panties.” She hooked her thumbs into the strings at either side of her hips and pushed down the scrap of lacy fabric. She slipped it off one past one pointed heel, then the other and tossed it aside. Immediately she felt Michael’s hands on her ass, squeezing the cheeks, kneading her flesh. “Spread your legs for me. I find the thought of you standing their in stockings and high heels very exciting. I’m sure all those other people in the other hotel are excited as well. Don’t you?”

“Oh yes,” she whispered. She could feel his hands slipping down between her legs, parting her pussy lips. “The men are stroking themselves and wishing they were you, and the women are wishing they had your big cock inside them.”

“Like this?” She felt him slide into her. It seemed to take hours for him to fill her entirely.

“Oh, god, yessss. I can see them watching me.” She felt his hands return to her breasts, fingers sliding over her smooth skin and sending flickers of pleasure throughout her body. “They can see me with a hot stud between my legs, and they want to be me. All those hot stares, Michael. Oooh!”

“That’s right, all those men wishing they were here, wishing they were fucking you up against the window.” He drew his mental cock out of her almost completely, and then began to pump into her, felling her inner muscles clench around him as he had done the night before. “Put your hand down between your legs, Julia. Play with your clit while I fuck you.” Her hand found the button he wanted her to press and began to stroke it feverishly. She was close to a climax. She felt the cold glass press against her breasts and knew she was leaning against the window, but she could still feel Michael’s ghost-hands stroking the flesh of her breasts. The stroking became a firm grip as he started driving his shaft more rapidly into her cunt; he was close to orgasm, too.

Her fingers began to work frantically against her clit as she felt the first flashes of electric climax burst through her cunt. Her back arched, pressing her stomach against the glass, and her head rolled back on her shoulders. The telephone fell to the floor as she lost her grip on it, but now it did not matter. Her inner muscles were clenching uncontrollably and she felt Michael make one, last, stabbing thrust deep inside her before he came. She could feel his hot jism pumping into her. Rope after rope of burning fluid shocked her paralysed body. She felt like she wanted to stay this way forever.

But then it was over. Michael’s ghostly body faded from her senses and she sagged onto the carpet, scrabbling for the phone. “Michael? Are you still there?”

“Body’s here, not sure about mind,” he mumbled.

She smiled, she knew what he meant. “I’m going to go take a shower, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“’Kay,” she heard, and the line went dead. She returned her own receiver to its cradle and headed toward the bathroom. After stumbling twice she kicked off her heels and went the rest of the way in only her stockings. By the time she made it she was well aware of how wet she had got during her phone call.

She started the shower running and pulled off her left stocking. “Another new pair in the morning,” she griped, and then something about the wetness soaked into the patterned stocking top caught her eye. She looked more closely, frowned, and then reached between her legs. “Th-that’s not possible,” she said after a few seconds of disbelief.

Chapter Fourteen

“Michael? Michael, wake up.” The voice was unfamiliar. Michael’s eyes flickered open to see an olive-brown face looking down at him. Whoever she was, she was stunningly attractive. Large, brown eyes with an exotic shape he could not quite put his finger on. Firm cheekbones framing the kind of features a fashion model would kill for. Full, red lips, slightly parted now, with perfect teeth just visible. Her hair was very long and blacker than anything Michael had seen in his life before.

“Who... who are you?” he stammered.

“My name is Cleopatra. Julia Calvin asked me to pay you a little visit.”

“C-Cleopatra?”

“Well, obviously not the Cleopatra. No, she lived several generations after me and had no talent what so ever. Still, you seduce an emperor and everyone thinks you’re fabulous.”

“A-after you? She lived after you?”

“Yes, dear boy, I’ve been dead for thousands of years.” She smiled at him as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Michael sat up, realising that he was no longer in his bed. The room was a perfect example (as far as Michael knew) of an Egyptian queen’s bed chamber. The walls were painted in bright colours. The bed was a four-poster of ancient design, and huge, cushions scattered everywhere. There was a large window, without glass, through which Michael could see a city of some kind.

Cleopatra saw him looking. “That’s Alexandria, or my memory of it. It’s not real of course; I maintain this whole dreamscape just so I don’t feel homesick. You’d think the first thousand years would rid you of that, but Egypt was so much part of my family’s blood.” She shrugged.

“So, when you died, you were able to keep your... spirit going here in the dream world?”

“Well done, yes. It’s not that difficult if you have the will power; most people don’t.” Michael was now painfully aware that this very attractive, very exotic woman was also naked from the waist up. Her white skirt fell down to her ankles, her headdress was incredibly ornate, and she was wearing a beautiful pectoral of gold and lapis lazuli, but her breasts were bare, the areolas and nipples reddened with makeup. “Julia came to me because of something you did tonight.”

“Um, we just talked.” Quite why he was embarrassed to mention the sex in front of this woman, Michael did not know, but embarrassed he was.

“You had sex over a telephone line,” Cleopatra said bluntly. “More than that, you came inside her.”

“I had better control this time,” Michael said, a little smugly. “Last night I made a bit of a mess of myself, but I managed to stop myself this time.”

“No, you didn’t hear me right. You did not stop yourself, you came inside Julia. You managed to... I don’t believe I’m saying this. You managed to translocate your semen into Julia.”

“Trans-what?” Michael was a little confused.

“Translocate; move from one place to another without crossing the intervening space.”

“Sort of like the transporters in Star Trek?”

“Michael, I have never seen a TV set and, while I have heard of Star Trek, I have no idea what the ‘transporters’ do in it. Essentially, in a state of orgasmic bliss, you still had enough will power available to transport matter a considerable distance into an internal cavity of another human without causing damage to either of you. Julia believes that to be impossible, which is why she came to me.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think that you are a young man with a lot of talent. What you did is not impossible, but it does require a level of will and a kind of belief that is becoming increasingly lacking in the modern world.” She grinned. “You appear to be something of a throwback. You would have fitted in well in my time; sorcery was quite common in those days.”

“S-sorcery? Like Merlin or, um, Harry Potter?”

“Harry who?” She shook her head. “Certainly like Merlin, or Solomon. If you are taught well your power could be considerable. I can help there, but you really need to practice in the real world. Magic is very easy here, where reality can be easily manipulated.” She waved a hand at the scenery and the room changed from Egyptian bedroom to medieval torture chamber, complete with the rack that Michael was now lying on. Her own clothes transformed into a leather dominatrix set as he watched, and he was now wearing a small pair of leather shorts. She looked back towards him and they were back in the bedroom overlooking Alexandria. “See? You can’t change the real world just like that.”

“Julia said it used to be easier, um, to change things in the real world.”

Cleopatra nodded. “In my time magic was more common because it worked, even for people with no talent. People believed in it, so it worked. We used to use poppets, voodoo dolls, to bring harm to people. Our burial rituals were all based around magic and belief. It was a way of life.” One of her hands strayed across to rest on Michael’s chest, her fingers playing lightly over the bare skin. “In modern times, people believe in nothing. Religion no longer raises the awe it once did, even to those who still say they believe. Life has become... mundane.”

Her hand had moved down across Michael’s stomach as she spoke. Now it wrapped lightly around his naked cock, stroking the semi-hard shaft. Her little speech had distracted him from her body, but now the relaxation that had been overtaking his hard-on was thrown aside by the contact of her hand. He let out a low groan as her thumb grazed over his fraenulum and her fingers wrapped around his shaft, squeezing slightly.

“I find you very attractive, Michael,” she told him, her voice calm and low. “I know I’m a little older than you, but I hope you find me attractive?” Michael nodded dumbly as her hand began to slide up and down his shaft. “Good. When I was alive, my lovers were restricted by affairs of state. My advisers could not risk a pregnancy by anyone but a suitable mate. So I would come here to satisfy myself with anyone I wished.” Her free hand reached up and pulled her headpiece out of her hair. “Now, of course, here is all I have, but I have much the same... appetite.”

She bent forward, her exquisite mouth opening to kiss the tip of his cock. Michael gasped at the feather-light touch, and then her lips enclosed him in their warmth. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the pre-cum that had formed at the end of his penis. He felt her lips sliding down the length of his shaft, her tongue sliding out to lick around the sides and underside as she took the whole length of him into her mouth. He felt her tonsils touch him, felt her push deeper until her nose pressed against his stomach. It felt like heaven. Slowly, very slowly, she slid back, raising her head until his cock slipped free of her ruby lips.

“Ooooh, my god!” Michael gasped. “How do you do that without breathing?”

Her hands were now clasped, one around his shaft, the other around his balls, the sensations driving him deeper into lust. “Simple really. This is a dream, we don’t need to breathe. Maybe being dead helps you realise it.” Her thumb stroked once more over his fraenulum and he twitched violently. “I can deep throat a man until the cows come home.” Her head ducked down once more and she began another long, slow, drawn-out descent along his shaft until the head of his penis was buried in the back of her throat.

“I’m... gonna... cummmmmm,” Michael growled, and his hips twitched, pushing himself deeper into her throat. She hummed her agreement and squeezed his balls, pushing him completely over the edge. He felt rope after rope of cum erupting from his cock and into Cleopatra’s throat. He was cumming down the throat of a Queen of Egypt and she was enjoying every second of it.

As his orgasm subsided, she slid off him, licking her lips, and grinning wickedly. “That was nice, you taste good.” She climbed up onto the bed, parting her skirt as she did so, and straddled his hips. “Now I want to see how you feel.”

“I don’t think I can...”

“Of course you can, Michael. This is my dreamscape; men stay hard here for as long as I want them to.” She lifted his cock to her pussy and slipped him into herself without another word. She was right, he realised as she bore down on him, he would not go soft until she was finished with him.

He was amazed at how tight she was. Lucy had been tighter than Julia, and he had expected this to be a trend with older women. Cleopatra was about as old as he was ever likely to meet and her pussy was almost as tight as Cherry’s ass had been. Her felt her ass come to rest on his hips and knew that he was all the way inside her. “How does that feel?” she asked.

“I-incredible,” he stammered out.

“How about this?” Suddenly her inner muscles were stroking over his cock in much the same way that the masturbation machine had worked him. This time, however, the head of his cock was being squeezed at the top of each stroke and Michael knew he would cum very quickly if she kept this up. His head pressed hard back into the pillow he was lying on and he gritted his teeth in an effort to avoid cumming. “Let it out, Michael. You can cum a dozen times and I’ll still have your lovely thick cock to keep me happy.” Her muscles squeezed him down the length of his shaft and he came, his hips bucking against her.

She began to ride him then, sliding herself up until he was almost out of her, and then plunging down on him like a swooping falcon. Her pace quickened. She braced her hands on his chest to give herself better balance and drove herself up and down on his shaft, inner muscles rippling as she did so. Michael felt his third orgasm coming fast, and this time allowed himself to just go with it, bucking his hips up into her to counter her own actions. “That’s it, lover,” she crooned. “That’s so fucking good.”

As his third orgasm subsided, Michael pushed up on one hip, throwing her onto her back and leaving him, still inside her, on top. “Oh, Michael, so forceful,” she said, locking her legs across his lower back. “Fuck me, darling. Fuck me like the whore I am.”

Michael began to slam his cock into her as hard and as fast as he could. With each thrust he felt the head of his cock butt up against the top of her vagina. Her muscles played with him every step of the way, teasing him, squeezing him, making every thrust a slightly different experience. He came again, but managed to keep his body pumping into her even through the haze of flashing lights that seemed to fill his skull.

“Unngh, yes, Michael, that’s it. Nearly there. Oh, oh, oh. Oh, Isis, yesssss!” Every muscle in her body seemed to strain at the same time. Her legs clamped down on him, forcing him deep inside her, where her cunt grabbed hold of him and would not let go. Her back arched up, giving him a delightful view of her full, sweat-covered breasts with their rose-tinted nipples. He twitched his hips in an effort to move inside her, and her muscles rippled in response, wringing another orgasm out of him. Fireworks went off inside his brain and the world seemed to spin away from him.

Lying together afterwards, Cleopatra’s fingers playing languidly around Michael’s shaft, she told him one last thing she thought he needed to know.

“There are people who will come looking for you because of your talent. They have hunted the stronger sorcerers for years. Their intent will not be to invite you to an orgy. You must avoid them until you are strong enough to fight them.”

“And you will teach me?” he asked. Quite calmly, he reached out a hand and stroked one finger over her clitoris.

“Ah! Yes, if you keep doing things like that, I’ll teach you anything you want to know. Come to me tomorrow night, we’ll begin your lessons then. Now you have to go, it’s almost dawn in the real world.”

Michael slipped out of bed and turned toward the door of the bed chamber. He figured that would be a good way to leave the dreamscape.

“Oh, Michael.”

“Yes?” he asked, looking back.

“Bring your little friend Lucy with you. There are things she should learn as well and...”

“What?”

“I haven’t had a young woman in my bed for a decade.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Well, I say he got what he deserved,” Michael’s mother remarked apropos of nothing at breakfast the following morning.

“Pardon, Mom?” Michael glanced up from his own section of the paper, the funnies. Ever since he had used his power on his mother, Michael had been feeling guilty about it. He had taken to eating breakfast with her at the very least, even though they hardly ever really said anything to each other anyway. At first she had been a little surprised at his sudden desire to be with her, but was actually starting to like having her son available to throw comments at now and again.

“Oh, there was a rapist caught, um, last week I think. He admitted to multiple rapes, claimed he was a reformed character, even gave away the bar he owned to one of his victims.”

“That sounds great, Mom.”

“He was found dead in his cell yesterday morning. It says here he died in his sleep of a heart attack.”

Michael swallowed. The Stalker, Mickey, was dead and it sounded a lot like he had died in a dream. “Yeah,” he said, “sounds like he got what he deserved. Look, Mom, I gotta go out.” He struggled out of his seat and rushed for the door, grabbing a jacket as he went.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t break the door down.” The voice was muffled by the thick door of the bar. Michael had been hammering on it for five minutes. The door opened, stopped after an inch or two by a thick metal bar. An eye looked out at him. “What do you want?”

“Kelly? Is that you?” The space behind the door was in too much shadow for Michael to see who was standing there, but the voice sounded right.

“Yeah, I’m Kelly, who are... Oh shit, you!”

Michael nodded. “Me. I need to talk to you.”

“I guess you’d better come in.” The door closed, and then opened fully, allowing Michael to step inside. Kelly closed and locked the door behind him and he turned to look at her. She was just as sexy in real life as she had been in her dream, only now she was a confident woman, the owner of a bar, rather than the frightened creature he had rescued. She was dressed in a black silk wrap, tied loosely at the waist. It had shifted slightly since she had put it on revealing a long ‘V’ of black skin down between her breasts to her waist. Michael’s cock twitched in his jeans.

“Have you seen the paper this morning?” he asked.

“Do I look like I’ve seen the paper? C’mon upstairs and I’ll make some coffee.” He followed her swaying behind through a door at the back of the bar and up a slim flight of stairs to the apartment above the bar. He could smell new paint, she had redecorated the apartment as soon as she moved in, he guessed. Kelly went through into a small kitchen area and there was soon the sound of a filter coffee machine doing its work. She returned. “So, what’s so important in the paper that you’re knocking on my door at this hour?”

“It’s nearly ten o’clock,” Michael reminded her.

“And I get to bed at about three in the morning,” she told him.

“Oh, I... hadn’t thought. It’s Mickey...”

“He’s escaped?!” Her eyes flew open and her arms crossed over her chest.

“No, no,” Michael reassured her. “He’s dead. He died in his sleep.” She blinked a couple of times as though she was not sure she could believe him. “Look, um, have you seen any strange people around the bar recently?”

“You are kidding me. This is a tittie bar, well, kind of. We get weird guys in here all the time. Look, you didn’t... y’know?”

“I didn’t kill him, not even in his dreams. I was actually going to reattach, um, what I cut off, after the trial.”

“Hmm,” she said, and returned to the kitchen. A couple of minutes later she came back with two mugs of steaming, black coffee. “Hope you don’t want anything in this,” she said. He shook his head, taking the mug from her, and watched as she took a large gulp from her own drink. “Ah, that hits the spot. I only drink this stuff in the morning, but I really need it in the morning.” She slumped onto the couch and Michael got a flash of the space between her legs as she did so. His cock got more interested. “Well,” she said, “I can’t say I’m sorry he’s gone.”

Michael nodded. “I guess I can understand your point.” He sat down on a chair opposite her, not trusting himself on the same couch. “Thing is, I got told about some people who could be looking for me. I was wondering if they’d gotten to him and traced their way back here.”

Kelly bent forward, elbows on knees. Her wrap fell open allowing Michael to see her beautiful big breasts beneath it. “I’ve seen no real strangers here in the last week. If you leave me a number I can let you know if anyone does come asking.”

Michael swallowed hard, pulled his eyes away from her chest. “D’you have something I can write on?” She stood, wandered over to the telephone, and returned with an address book. Under the ‘M’ section Michael wrote down his number with ‘Michael’ written beside it. He showed her the entry. “Okay?” he asked. She was standing over him, looking down. He had to look up past the slopes of her breasts to see her face.

“That’s fine, Michael. I, um, never really thanked you for what you did for me.”

Michael swallowed hard. He was trying to be altruistic here. “There’s no need...”

She pulled open the bow on her belt and allowed the wrap to slip off her shoulders. Michael could smell the musky scent of her sex; she was wet and expectant. “Why don’t you get out of those clothes?” she suggested.

He stood, reaching for his belt, and she began unbuttoning his shirt. Soon he was naked, standing in front of her like an expectant school boy. She reached down and took his cock in her hand. “You have a good dick, for a white guy,” she told him. “I want it inside me.”

Michael took in a breath, which seemed to take more effort than it should. “Get on your hands and knees,” he said. A smile played across her lips and she turned around before dropping to her knees, and then leaning forward until she was on all fours. She spread her legs and Michael dropped to his knees between them. He could see her pussy lips glistening, and he slid his cock between them, pushing up so that he brushed over her clitoris, eliciting a moan from Kelly. He slid back down the length of her slit, then pushed the head of his cock into her and kept it there.

“Umm, yeah, more,” she grunted. He slipped another inch into her, and then pulled out again, sliding his cock up to brush her clit once more. “Ungh, teasing bastard. Put it in me.” He slipped a couple of inches into her pussy again, and pulled out once more. “Pleeease, Michael, I need it now!” He pushed in, and this time began to fuck her. His hand snaked under her body and began to play with her clit while he pumped into her.

Kelly’s back arched, dropping her chest down to the floor, and changing the angle he was thrusting at. He felt her fingers on his, pushing him aside, and she took over the work on her clit. He could feel her cunt muscles fluttering around his shaft. He took a firm hold of her hips and began to pump into her hard and fast.

“Oh, god, yes Michael! That’s it! That’s what I need. I’m cummmmming...” He kept fucking her as her body exploded into orgasm in front of him.

As she came down, she sagged forward, slipping off him, and rolled onto her back. She looked at his throbbing cock and immediately spread her legs wide. “This way up next,” she said.

He moved forward, taking his weight on his arms and looking straight into her eyes as he pushed into her dripping pussy. “Ooooh,” she groaned. “You really are big for a white guy.” She was breathing hard and her breasts were putting on a fantastic display below him. Each inward breath pushed her nipples into his chest. Slowly, he began to slide in and out of her. He had half expected her to wrap her legs around him, but she kept her thighs spread wide apart, allowing him full freedom to slide in and out of her as deeply as he wished. It did not take long for him to feel the beginnings of his orgasm growing at the base of his cock.

“I’m gonna cum,” he told her.

“Do it, baby,” she whispered. Her hands came up to grip her breast, squeezing them hard. Her eyes closed and her back arched up, lifting her feet off the floor. He felt her muscles clench once more around his cock and the extra friction pushed him over the edge. He slammed into her once more, twice, and then he was unloading his balls into her body. She jerked with each spurt of cum, twitching to the rhythm of her own climax.

Chapter Sixteen

It had been two weeks since Cleopatra warned Michael that he might be in danger. Kelly had not phoned with word of strangers in her bar, and Cleopatra had never mentioned it again. She had taught both Michael and Lucy a lot about Michael’s powers. Every night was a strain on Michael’s mind, and every night ended with a three-way sex session that left both of them bleary-eyed in the morning. This morning, however, things were different. Cleopatra had sent them off early with a task to accomplish.

Michael had been learning the principles of possession. Now Cleopatra wanted him to try them out for real. A willing host was best to begin with, and who better than Lucy to be that host. She was now sitting up in bed, waiting for Michael to either take control of her body, or call to tell her he had failed. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

And then the world seemed to lurch sideways...

Michael looked down at Lucy as she sat in her bed. She was looking around as through expecting to see Michael appear from nowhere at any minute. Despite what she had learned recently, she still could not see into the astral plane, so she was not going to spot him.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on pushing himself into her mind. Cleopatra had explained the technique several times, but this would be his first attempt for real. He did not want to mess this up, even if the result would probably not harm Lucy.

He felt a sudden sense of displacement...

Michael opened his eyes and found himself looking out at the real world. In particular, that part of the real world that was Lucy’s bedroom. It occurred to him that the viewpoint was her bed and he looked down to discover that he now sported a pair of tits, currently hidden under a cotton nightdress. He reached up and cupped them experimentally. Fascinated by the feel of his hands lifting this new set of body parts, and feeling those body parts being lifted, he was a little surprised to hear a cough come from somewhere behind his left ear. He looked around sharply, but there was no one there.

Shaking his head, he undid the top of the nightdress and was just about to look down the front when he heard the voice.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, young man?” He looked round frantically, trying to find the owner of the voice, but he was alone in the room with Lucy’s body. Then it hit him. “That’s right, I’m still conscious,” she said, still apparently from just behind him. “Cleopatra did say it was possible to do it this way, and you obviously did it by accident.”

“Um, sorry Lucy,” he thought in her direction. “I guess I got a bit carried away by the thought of having breasts.”

“I’ll forgive you.”

“Can you feel what I’m doing with your body?”

“Yes, but it feels a little distant, like I’m in the early stages of anaesthesia. I think you should forget about playing with my tits and practice being someone you aren’t.”

“Okay. The plan was that I would walk you over to my house. Is that still okay with you?”

“Sure is, but I think you forgot some of the challenges that lie in wait for you.”

“Like?”

“You have to get me dressed for starters.”

Michael grimaced and climbed out of bed, almost overbalancing at the unfamiliar body shape. “Looks like standing up will be my first major challenge. I hope this kind of thing gets easier or doing this in anger could be really difficult.” He walked over to Lucy’s wardrobe and opened the door. “What would you like to wear today?” he thought.

An odd sort of shudder seemed to run through him. “Why don’t you... pick something you would like me to wear?” she replied.

He grinned. “You mean like... well, I could put on a bikini and have you walk all the way to my house wearing that. How would you like me to do that?”

Lucy moaned softly. “I wouldn’t like that at all,” she said.

“What’s the smallest bikini you’ve got Lucy?”

“I-in the bottom drawer on your right.”

Michael bent down and pulled the drawer open to find various bits and pieces of clothing that he had never seen Lucy wearing: a few very frumpy nightgowns, a couple of old T-shirts that looked several sizes too small, and a collection of one and two-piece swimsuits.

“The red one is the smallest I have,” she volunteered, so he reached into the drawer and took out a microscopic, shiny, red tie-sided bikini. He looked at the scraps of glossy fabric, slightly perplexed. Then he hung the halter strap of the bra around his neck, settled the tiny triangles over his nipples, and pulled the ties around his back. Then he stepped in front of a mirror. The nightgown spoiled the effect a little, but he got the general impression of how it would look.

“Maybe another time,” he said. “First, while I know it would be you walking around wearing almost nothing, it would feel like it was me. And second, I’m not sure I could figure out how to tie this thing on any time this week.” He took off the bra, dropped it back into the drawer, and began to hunt through the wardrobe.

Fifteen minutes later he had managed to figure out the intricacies of putting on a bra and was completing Lucy’s outfit for the day with a pair of relatively low heeled sandals. He had wanted to try high heels, but she had pointed out that a sprained ankle would do neither of them any good. He was wearing the tightest little cropped top he could find, with the lowest front, so the bra was the quarter cup one he had had her buy when he first enslaved her. He had managed to find a very short, pleated skirt that showed off his new legs nicely, and had put on the skimpiest thong he could find in Lucy’s underwear drawer.

Lucy still accused him of chickening out. “You had your chance to really humiliate me,” she said, “and you blew it.”

“You haven’t seen what trouble I can get you into before I get you back to my house,” he replied.

He heard a mental gasp. “No, I suppose I haven’t.”

“But first, I think you’re hungry.”

Another gasp. “You’ll have to talk to my Mom!”

Michael grinned. “Yeah, I suppose I will. What will she think of this outfit?”

“Oh, she won’t mind that. You haven’t met my Mom yet. Oh, go on, down the stairs and to the right you’ll find the kitchen. I normally have a bowl of cereal. You’ll find the bowls in the third cupboard on the left and the cereal in the next left from that.” Then she fell silent as Michael headed out of the bedroom.

The cereal and bowls were exactly where Lucy had said they would be, and Michael found the milk in the refrigerator and a jug of freshly made coffee sitting on the hotplate, but of Mrs Clayton there was no sign. Michael heard Lucy breath a mental sigh of relief as he settled her body down at the small breakfast table and began to eat.

“Oh, hi honey,” said a voice from the back door. Mrs Clayton had been outside, and she walked past her daughter, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as she did so. She was carrying a small basket of cut flowers from the garden. “I thought you were going to spend the entire morning in bed.”

“No, Mom,” Michael answered. “I’ll be going out after breakfast.”

Mrs Clayton stopped at the door into the rest of the house and looked back at her daughter, eyes scanning up and down. A big, evil-looking grin appeared on her face. “Looks like you plan to get laid by that mysterious boyfriend of yours. You really will have to bring him over some time so I can get a look at him. He must be some hunk to have you craving his cock like you do.”

Michael could feel Lucy’s mortification at her mother’s words. “Um,” Michael stammered, “Mom, if I wanted it that badly I’d just dress up in a bikini and heels and walk ‘round to his place. Wouldn’t I?”

Mrs Clayton’s laughter filled the kitchen as she turned to walk away. A few seconds later Michael heard the TV go on in the lounge. “Your mother is quite a looker,” Michael commented to Lucy. Mrs Clayton was something like an older version of her daughter, the same lithe body and beautiful features, but aged a decade or so. He noticed that her breasts were a little larger, even hidden under the loose, cotton shirt she had been wearing. Michael suspected that the older Clayton had not been wearing a bra.

“Yeah, I hope I grow old as gracefully. But her mouth!”

Michael grinned. “It’s... refreshing to hear such an open attitude between mother and daughter,” he said.

“It’s a shame Dad’s not the same, I guess. They don’t get on too well anymore. I’m afraid a lot of it is me. Dad doesn’t approve of you or anyone else who isn’t drawing a six-figure salary, dating his little girl. As for what we do in bed, well, let’s just say he thinks I’m still a virgin. Mom, on the other hand is quite happy for me to do anything sexual as long as I don’t get hurt. I actually think she’s tried to get some of my cast-off boyfriends on occasion.” There was a short pause. “You... wouldn’t be thinking of fucking her, would you?”

Michael blinked Lucy’s eyes in surprise. “No...” He trailed off, thinking about it. “I suppose if I’m honest I’d quite like to, but it would probably hurt our relationship, and I won’t risk that.”

Lucy seemed satisfied with his answer and remained silent while he concentrated on getting food from the bowl to his (her) mouth without spilling it. It was surprisingly difficult, and as for getting the coffee mug in the right place. “I am never going to take the simple act of eating for granted again,” he griped. However, by the end of the little meal he had Lucy’s arms and hands pretty well under control.

With breakfast over, Michael started out for his home. He kissed Mrs Clayton goodbye, and started out the front door, running straight into Janine Kirkbride and Martine Blakelock as he did so. “Oh shit!” Lucy muttered in the back of his mind. “It’s the glee club committee.”

“Lucy! Hi!” Martine bubbled. She was, Michael seemed to remember, like this all the time. The term bubbly blonde had been invented for her. Unfortunately, dumb blonde also fitted her perfectly. A little shorter than Lucy, she was no less attractive, with ample breasts and a trim figure. As with most of the cheerleading squad, she had long legs.

Hers were, however, nothing to Janine’s. Janine was the tallest girl in the squad at almost six feet, and her figure matched her stature. Her breasts were large, her hips wide, but well in proportion. The only thing that marred her appearance was the perpetual sneer her face wore. Looking closely at it for the first time, Michael thought that she would probably be stunningly attractive if she would only smile.

“Hello, Martine, Janine. How’s your holiday been?” Michael said. He was really unsure how to act around these girls; the cheerleading squad had never been somewhere he could hang out and survive.

“Three weeks in the Med does improve your tan,” Janine replied.

“We’re here about the party,” Martine enthused.

“I assume you’d like an invite?” Janine added. “Or should I be putting you down for two?”

“What party?” Michael thought in alarm.

“I forgot about it. Before the holidays started we all decided to throw a party at Janine’s place. We don’t have to go.”

Michael thought for a brief second. “Yes, put me down for two.”

“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?” Martine asked, her eyes lit up like Christmas lights at the thought of new gossip.

“You’ll see when I get there,” Michael replied. “Now, I have to be going; I have a date.” He edged past them and started down the street.

“Hmm, yes,” Janine mused. “It certainly looks like you have.”

Michael looked back at her and tried to make his grin look as dirty as he could manage. Then he continued on his way. Behind him he heard Janine’s voice. “Well, I hope the little cocksucker enjoys herself.”

“Jan!” Martine admonished. “That’s no way to talk about a fellow squad member.”

“Put a sock in it, Marty. Who’s next on the list?”

The rest of the journey to Michael’s house went without incident and soon he arrived at the door. It was then that he realised that, without his own body, he did not have a key to let himself in. He rang the doorbell and waited for his mother to come to the door.

“Oh, hello Lucy,” his mother said on seeing her.

“Is Michael in?”

“Um, yes, but I think he’s still in bed.”

“I’ll go up and get the lazy so-and-so up, shall I?”

Michael’s mother smiled at her son’s girlfriend, and glanced down at her outfit. “Yes, dear, why don’t you do that?”

Michael hurried past his mother and up the stairs to his room. His body was lying where he had left it, on the bed, laid out like a corpse. “Made it,” he said and sat down beside himself. An evil thought crossed his mind and he got to his feet once more.

“Aren’t you going to go back to your body?” Lucy asked.

“Shortly,” he replied and began to undress. “One of those little curiosities I have is what it’s like for you when you cum.”

Lucy’s mind gasped behind him. “You’re going to make me masturbate?”

“Don’t make it sound so bad. I didn’t stop to do it in the street.” Naked, he laid her body down beside his own and slid her hands up around her breasts, stoking the skin, teasing the nipples. He let out a moan, and it coincided with a moan from Lucy. He carried on playing with her breasts for several minutes, revelling in the sensations that were so far different from those of his own body.

“God this feels weird,” Lucy gasped. “It’s like, ooh stop that a minute, like I’m playing with myself, and I can’t stop, and, oh yes, and it’s really someone else doing it.”

Michael slid a hand down between his legs, feeling the soft fur and the delicate skin. The feeling was incredible, like nothing he had ever felt before. He parted his pussy lips and slipped a finger down the length of his slit until he found the opening of his vagina. He was already moist from the breast massage and it was easy to slide his index finger down into the hole. It felt so good! He pulled out again and slid two fingers in. Oh yes!

“Hook your fingers up a little and push a bit further in,” Lucy suggested. “Ah! That’s it. Can you feel that?”

Michael was speechless for a second. He rubbed over the same spot again, feeling another intense burst of pleasure ripple through his loins. “Th-that’s what you feel when I hit your G-spot?” he asked.

“That’s it. Now try my clit.”

He moved his thumb up between his pussy lips until he found the familiar raised bump, and slid his slick thumb over it. His hand clenched involuntarily at the jolt of sensation, pressing his fingers into his G-spot and teasing his clit again. “Oh, jeez!” he moaned out loud. He slid his other hand down so that he could massage his clit and do a proper job with the fingers he had inside himself, and soon he was lost in the incredible pleasure of bringing someone else’s body to orgasm.

When it came, it felt different from his own climaxes. It started in the pit of his stomach and spread rapidly down his legs. Surges of sensation lashed from his pussy up to his nipples and back down, like lightning strikes seeking Earth. Then a wave of pleasure rippled out from his cunt, washing over his whole body. His spread legs stiffened and his back arched as his fingers continued their frantic work at his clitoris. In his mind he could hear Lucy screaming out her climax and his ears filled with her voice as he screamed out his own.

He collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard. His body was covered in sweat and there was a delicious sense of exhaustion seeping through his limbs. “That,” he said, “was quite something.”

“Y-yeah,” Lucy stammered. “Next time we’ll have to try it with a multiple.”

Michael groaned and allowed himself to slide back into his own body. “If I have to go through that multiple times in quick succession, I’ll croak,” he told her. Then he slipped the covers off himself, moved on top of her, and slid himself into her sopping pussy in one easy motion.