The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ms. M. and the Poet

Chapter 1

The Bookstore

Have you ever wanted to be seen by everyone? To be the center of attention? And then your wish comes true, and it turns out to be a nightmare. I can relate. I can relate in a very big way. For the longest time, I had wanted to be in the spotlight. Though I never wanted the kind of attention that Hollywood stars get; my aspirations had been a bit more modest. I have always been modest, reserved, private. I lived within my own little world of dreams and desires. I wanted to be recognized for my dreams, by sharing my dreams in the form of literary prose. Being a writer is like being a sea-boat captain without a compass. You have to be the navigator of your own journey, and sometimes there isn’t anyone there to help. It can be a lonely journey, and there always exists that unseen danger. A sea-monster can come out of nowhere and pull your ship deep into the dark sea, your dreams being lost to oblivion.

I realize that I may come off as being a little dramatic at times. But I assure you, something like this happened to me. A monster came for me and forever changed my life. The day of days occurred during the early morning on the first Sunday of October. I was where I always was on Sunday mornings. Not church, not yoga class, but my literary sanctuary; inside my cities only Barns and Noble. Book stores are fading away, but they have always been where I’ve felt most comfortable, and most at ease when I write. I go there at least three times a week. I’m a creature of habit I suppose. But I really wish I hadn’t been there on that particular Sunday. Perhaps the monster would never have found me. Perhaps she would never have seen me.

I was wearing a white knitted sweater as well as a matching hat that partially covered my long and wavy light brown hair. The sweater had holes in various places that took the form of various flowers, plants, and trees. I had done the knitting myself, it had been an artistically clever way to add air circulation. I had been wearing some fairly tight jeans that day, but the sweater was long enough to fend off the prying eyes of those who would check out my backside. I wore brown synthetic leather boots that comfortably hugged my feet, and large round glasses that covered most of my face. The oversized glasses put my bright green eyes front and center. It was my desire to draw peoples attention to my face and my beautiful eyes. Not my backside, not my large breasts. I wanted them to look into my sparkling emeralds and see into the very depth of my soul.

On that fateful day, I had been thinking out how to structure my newest poem, while at the same time coming up with new verses. Though I sometimes dabbled in free verse, I more often than not favored more traditional poetry. But for this poem, I was trying to blend the old and the new styles; emotion and truism always being my literary devices. I combined the subject matter of Global warming, death, rebirth, and hope all into one. A bit ambitious, but it was always good to have a poem that spoke to many different themes and ideas.

Sunday mornings in a Barns and Noble was always a good time and place to think. The store was actually fairly large, being two stories tall, and having plenty of space to sit down to read a book, do work, or listen to music. I always favored a specific spot on the second floor. A pair of leather seats sat in a corner between the biography section and the health section. A small round wooden table was situated between the two seats; perfect for placing someone’s coffee or tea. It was the least visited area, where I was least likely to be bothered.

It had been just before 10:00 a.m. There were usually less than a dozen patrons at any given moment during that time of day. I suppose that meant I had been easy to spot. My thoughts had been centered on my poem, having been thinking about what symbolism I should use to represent the need for change. It was then that I heard her overbearing yet very refined voice for the first time.

“Well well well. Hello there young lady.”

I looked up to see a fairly large blond hair woman standing above me. When I say large, I don’t mean fat, at least not by my standards. But she was right on the threshold between being fat or simply being a bit thick. I estimated the woman’s age to be about 30. She clearly had very large breasts, a very very wide set of hips, a plump backside, and short meaty legs. Wearing high heels and a well-tailored blue striped dress, which was clearly meant for a businesswoman, the lady certainly had a commanding presence. Her large blue eyes seemed to be digging straight into my thoughts. The woman instantly made me feel uncomfortable, but I did my best to stay polite.

“Can I help you with anything?” I asked.

“Perhaps you can,” said the woman.

She sat on the seat beside me, sending a tinkle of annoyance through my mind. I was always a bit irked when someone interrupted my literary thoughts. But in truth, I had gotten used to this happening. People didn’t seem to know when not to disturb a writer.

“I’m not an employee” I indicated. “If you need help finding a book, I’m sure they can help you out.”

“Well sure, I was here to find a book for a friend of mine. But at the moment I’m more interested in you. You seemed to be very deep in thought about something.”

I wanted to say, “And you took it upon yourself to interrupt me.” But instead, I said, “Yes, I was just thinking about a poem I’m writing.”

The woman seemed intrigued by this, and I got the impression she was somehow appraising me. Her eyes were scanning my body, much the same as an overly interested man would do. This succeeded in adding to my discomfort. I wondered if this woman was a lesbian. That was a boat I was not ready to sail upon, but I never the less stayed as polite as possible.

“Do you like poetry?” I asked.

“No,” came the flat response of the woman. “In truth, I detest poetry.”

That blunt statement had the effect of giving me a mental slap across my soul. “Well, I’m really sorry to hear that. It’s your loss.”

The woman smiled at my calculated and restrained rebuke. “But I do really like you. My name is Ms. M. What’s your name dear girl?”

“Amber,” I replied. By this point, I felt I had to make something clear. “You should know, I’m not a lesbian.”

Ms. M laughed when I offered this revelation. “Well, too bad for you,” she said with a wink. “Men are well and good, but you only get half the fun by narrowing your experiences to only men.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I wasn’t sure where this woman was trying to go with this conversation. By that juncture, I mentally scored the conversation as a six out of ten on the awkward scale. Yes, I had had some bazaar interactions in the past, but the fact that Ms. M was a complete stranger made things a bit weirder.

“Ms. M,” I repeated. “What does the M stand for?”

Her smile never leaving her face, she said, “It stands for whatever you want it to stand for. Doesn’t really matter to me. What does matter to me is that I see wasted talent before my very eyes. You have such a good body, but you clearly prefer to keep it hidden.”

And that was when the awkward scale reached a full ten. I decided that it was time for me to go. “Yaaa…well….It has been delightful to meet you, but I have to be leaving now.”

I began to get out of my chair when she lightly took hold of my arm.

“Oh, sit down young lady. Relax…I’m no danger to you.”

Doing as she said, I sat back into my chair, and indeed, attempted to make myself more relaxed. “Ms. M. I’m flattered…that you have taken an interest in me….but I really just want to write some poetry in peace.”

“Well my child, since you love your poetry so much, can you read some for me.”

“Well…. it’s still a work in progress,” I admitted.

“I hate poetry darling, I just want to hear you read it. And really put emotion in your poetry, I want to listen to your feelings as they leave your lips.”

I involuntarily rolled my eyes, being more annoyed than ever. What was the point of reading poetry to one who did not appreciate it. But I took out the first page of my first draft and began reading.

Falling feathers beneath the willowing trees.

Drifting down to the fading earth.

Floating within the bleeding air.

Dreaming of the dream that can never be.

Beneath the land, the dead do cry.

Above the clouds, the spirts do sing.

The horizon awaits, its arms outstretched.

The ocean is calm, but warns of destruction.

Walking through the land we go.

Taking heed to the path from which we flow.

We are lost within the world that we have wrought,

Seeking the lost horizon for which we always sought.

We speak no words of wisdom,

sing no songs of joy.

But the music of the journey speeds us forward,

into the depth of the worlds sorrow.

We seek new dreams, new land, new hope,

within the

“That’s all I have,” I admitted.

“Hmmm.” Hummed the woman. Nodding her head as if actually considering whether or not she liked it.

I waited for her to say something about how she felt. Even though she said that she hated poetry, I was always curious about what others thought about my writing.

“Well, what do you think of what I wrote so far?”

“Dreadful,” said Ms. M. “I simply have no idea what you are talking about. It’s not very entertaining.”

I frowned at this. “There is more to life than entertainment.”

“Ow, you are correct about that young lady.” Conceded Ms. M. “And I can tell that you take life very seriously. You are the kind of girl that takes everything seriously. That includes your writing, politics, animal rights, your love life, and so on and so forth. There is nothing casual about you. I’m pretty sure you even take your masturbation sessions very seriously.”

At this point, my mouth dropped open in astonishment. I couldn’t believe the utter audacity of this woman, and her absolute lack of discretion.

“Right..well…I’ll be going now.”

And again I motioned to leave, but she placed her hand upon my shoulder once more. “Stay seated little lass. And don’t try to leave again until I tell you to do so.”

I stayed seated but was getting a little angry. I even raised my voice when I next spoke. Something I rarely ever did.

“Listen Ms. M. You are starting to make me feel uncomfortable. And truth be said, you are being really annoying. I came here to write, not to be told that poetry sucks.” I leaned forward and looked straight into her eyes. “Please, can you leave me alone.”

Ms. M shrugged. “I don’t intend to. At least not yet. Don’t you worry, I actually like you quite a lot. You are a bit of a prune, but I think we can be good friends.”

I was beginning to think that this woman was halfway down the path of being totally crazy. Who the hell did she think she was? I truly did want to leave. But for reasons I did not yet fully understand, my body refused to move from the chair. I figured that it was my own mind being stubborn. I shouldn’t have to be the one to leave. I wasn’t the one bothering other people.

“So Amber,” continued Ms. M. “For now on, you must answer all questions with absolute and complete honesty. You won’t be able to filter out anything. You are now like an open book.”

“Ms. M, you are HONESTLY” I almost growled the word, “starting to weird me out. If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call over one of the employees, all of which are friends of mine, and you will be escorted from the premises.”

Ms. M smiled in delight. “Good for you girl. You have spunk after all. But you aren’t allowed to do that. In fact, you will not be able to speak unless its to answer one of my questions. You will stay seated. You will make no attempt to draw attention, you will keep your voice low, and you won’t try to harm me in any way.”

I had had enough of this woman’s nonsense. I hadn’t been lying. I knew all the employees in this store, and several of them were either close friends or friendly acquaintances. There was a young man named Eric who was standing halfway between me and the other end of the store, busy with organizing the books in the horror section. I had known him since my early childhood and thought of him as a member of my own family. He would be more than happy to help me out, and I fully intended to call him over. But when I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out.

The following few moments can only be described as the personification of absolute pure bewilderment. The world actually seemed to spin around as my mind tried to process what was occurring. Eventually, I took a deep breath and tried to call out to Eric again. But once more, I couldn’t muster a single syllable.

My bewilderment slowly melted away as I began to understand the implication. I slowly looked back into Ms. M’s watchful gaze. She was smiling even more broadly than ever before. Fear began to materialize within my mind and soul. I was somehow trapped within her power, whatever power that may be. I began to panic, breathing fast and heavy, my breast heaving up and down.

“Shhhh,” said the calming voice of Ms. M. She gently grasped my hand in a seemly reassuring way. “I know your scared child. Just take in a deep breath and relax. Do the best you can to stay calm. I promise I’m not here to harm you.”

My body began to relax. And for the first time, I understood that I had no free will in the matter. As commanded, I made an effort to slow down my breathing and allowed my body to sink into the leather chair.

“Good girl,” said Ms. M. Giving me a wink. “Now, first things first. What are the measurements for your breasts?

“38D.” I answered, feeling more vulnerable than ever before.

“Hmmm, those breasts don’t look like D cups. Do you wear minimizing bras?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

Ms. M nodded her head as if she had suspected this. “Why even bother wearing minimizing bras? Is it a comfort issue?”

“I prefer men to look into my eyes, not into my breasts.”

“Oh, I see. Is that why you wear those oversized glasses?”

“Yes.”

Ms. M smiled once more. She seemed very smug with these confirmations. “I thought so. And I must say, the glasses actually look good on you. I’m curious, from a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive do you think you are?

My words flowed through my mouth instantly. I was an odd sensation. I wasn’t thinking about what I would say or how I would say it. The words felt like they were jumping from my mouth like bees exiting from a hive.

“I don’t think it’s fair to give scales to attractiveness. It’s clear that men have different preferences for women.”

This response seemed to impress Ms. M. She gave me an approving nod. “I like that answer. And you are mostly correct darling. But its not entirely the truth. There are some women that all men would fuck no matter what their preferences are. So tell me in a general sense, where are you on that scale?”

This was the only point to the conversation that I didn’t give an instant response. It had been a long time since I last thought about such things.

“I guess…an eight out of ten.”

Ms. M narrowed her eyes at me when I gave my answer. As if pondering my own self-assessment. “You understand that you are attractive, but you are never the less modest. Your hiding that body under those conservative clothes because you know you have something to hide. You are at least a nine. But in any regard, how old are you?”

“I turn 21 in two weeks.”

“Oh, the big 21.” She sounded pleasantly amused by this. “Always very exciting. Do you intend to go drinking with your friends?”

“Yes. A few of my friends plan to take me out bar hopping.”

“How many close friends do you have? And that shouldn’t include friendly acquaintances or social network friends.”

“Six.” I indicated.

My answer had at first taken me off guard because there were many others that I considered to be friends. However, after thinking the number over for a moment, it did seem accurate. I suppose not all friends are close friends. But I hadn’t really thought in those terms until being under the power of Ms. M.

“Six is a good number.” Asserted Ms. M. “Tell me, do you consider yourself the most attractive person amongst your friends?”

“As I said before, I don’t think is fair to rate someones…..”

Ms. M cut me off. “You know what I mean. Are you the most attractive or not? Answer the question.”

“No.” Was my reply.

“Oh really.” Ms. M sounded slightly taken aback. “Then where do you rate yourself in the pack of girls you hang with?”

“I guess….the second or third most attractive?”

Ms. M narrowed her eyes yet again, not seeming to accept that answer at all. “Do you have a picture on your phone with all your friends together?”

“Yes.”

I really didn’t like how she was so interested in my friends. My instincts whispered of dark outcomes if the conversation stayed on its present course. But there was little I could do with the restrictions placed upon me. No matter how hard I willed myself to lie, or to simply not speak at all, my truthful words continued to splash from my mouth.

“Show me that picture.” Ms. M commanded.

I took out my phone and brought up the picture for her to see. I inwardly prayed that the course of this conversation wasn’t going to lead to my friends being dragged into my horror story. The picture in question was taken at a live Moth podcast recording event. My five closest girlfriends were all in the picture with me. This included Susan, who was one of the employees working at the store that day. A fact that Ms. M pointed out immediately.

“Is this the girl who works at the front counter?” She asked.

“Yes,” I answered in a worried voice. But Ms. M didn’t seem to detect my anxiety.

Susan was of Asian descent, being of Vietnamese ancestry. She had a naturally thin body, looking a bit girlish despite being a year older than me. She had been wearing a belfry hat in the picture, a sleeveless black vest decorated in white flowers, and loose-fitting white silk pants.

“She doesn’t have enough meat on her,” said Ms. M. “She is of no interest to me.”

I allowed myself a very light sigh of relief. Ms. M was too busy taking in the details of the picture to register my reaction.

The others were Becky, Angelia, Vicky, and Marie. Becky is somewhat tall, has broad shoulders and a wide waistline. She had been wearing a fairly conservative long blue dress, but some of her breasts cleavage was showing, which were almost the size of mine. I long suspected that though relatively conservative by modern standards, Becky enjoyed having men’s eyes drawn to her breasts.

Angelia, on the other hand, was very short. She was even shorter than Susie, standing just over five feet tall. She is perhaps somewhat plump by most peoples standards. But she isn’t’ fat, it’s just the way her body is shaped. She has long light blond hair and wears glasses like me. She had been wearing a yellow dress, which honestly didn’t look very good on her. She looked like a melon while wearing it, but it was her favorite color.

Truth be said, Susan, Becky, and Angelia had either slightly below average, average, or slightly above average looks; depending on who you asked. Though again, I never believed that kind of assessment, and I know for a fact that despite Susan’s puny frame, she was never the less cute. I had seen many men hit on her over the years. But Ms. M wasn’t interested in my average looking friends. She was however clearly interested in Vicky and Marie.

“Who are these two,” she asked?

I told her their names, feeling as if I was somehow betraying them in the process.

Vicky has radiant fair skin and long golden blond hair. Vicky is hard to miss because she stands six feet tall, and has those long slender legs that many men desire. Her breasts were perhaps barely C cups, but she had a beautifully formed backside, for which men’s eyes were always drawn to. She often wore tight fitting designer yoga pants. She was, in fact, wearing yoga pants in the picture. The tight leggings displayed bright violet, purple and red blooming flowers. She completed her outfit with tight red leather boots, and a black designer leather vest.

Marie was another woman who liked to stand out. Though in truth, she managed to do this in a conservative way. She is black, but has a fairly light skin tone. I think she is three inches taller than me, probably standing a 5 feet 9 inches, and has long black curly hair. Like Vicky, she has long legs, but they aren’t as thin as Vickies, being a bit more well defined and thick like mine. She has a medium sized waste and an even wider backside. I suspect that her breasts are slightly larger than mine, perhaps being double D’s. On that day, she was wearing a long-sleeved red zanzea cropped blouse with a split that left one of her shoulders uncovered. This style of blouse looked like a cape that a superhero would wear, which I think is exactly the type of impression that Marie intended to make. Her jewelry included a golden necklace and a pair of beautiful diamond earrings. The final touches to her wardrobe were a pair of tight black leather pants and designer high heels. She was quite a site to look at. Her body was in a class of its own.

“Well, this Marie woman is certainly something else,” said Ms. M. “But you are defiantly more attractive than Vicky. Sure, Vicky is a pretty lass, but there are too many women who look exactly like her. You, as well are your friend Marie, are a bit more exotic. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“No,” I answered. “I’m not exotic at all.”

“Oh but you are,” insisted Ms. M. “And you could be so much more. I mean…come on. Look at the outfit you are wearing in this picture. A long sleeve flannel shirt? Were you raised by a woodsmen?”

“No,” I repeated in annoyance.

“That was a rectorial question,” confirmed Ms. M. “Sure, you are wearing tight jeans, but the shirt is so big that nobody can see any of the good stuff. Did you do that on purpose?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

Ms. M raised her arms up as if exacerbated. Her expression was one of mild frustration. “Your hot. You’re a babe. And you don’t have that long of a time frame to utilize this advantage. For the love of Christ! Its a miracle that I have found you in time, or else you would have wasted your God-given birthright.”

I didn’t feel the same way at all, and Ms. M seemed to read my thoughts.

“What are you thinking honey?” Ms. M asked. But she clearly already new what my answer would be.

“That you have no right to judge me,” I answered. “You don’t know me.”

“Oh but I think do,” Insisted Ms. M. “I might understand you better than you understand yourself. There is a natural intensity that resonates off of you. I believe you are capable of being a sex demon. There is a sexual tension inside your body that is very self-evident.”

I wanted to inform her that her conclusion was absolute bullshit. I didn’t think I had any sexual tension at all. And I was certainly no sex demon.

“I can see that you don’t believe me.” Said Ms. M. “But you will sweet girl. You will.”

That statement didn’t bring me any comfort at all. I started to suspect what this woman had in store for me, and the fear began to rise once more. Ms. M studied the photo for a moment longer.

“I think I will keep your phone for now,” said Ms. M. “What is your password?”

“123ABC,” I answered, my heart skipping a beat as I unwillingly gave away my password. In modern times, nothing is worse than having a stranger have full access to your phone. But I guess it was nothing compared to a stranger having full access to your thoughts.

“Easy enough to remember,” said a relieved Ms. M. “You mentioned you had six close friends. But I only see 5 in this picture. Who is the other?”

“His name is Eric. And he’s not in the picture because he’s the one that took it.”

“Very interesting.” Ms. M sounded pleased by this information. “And where is this Eric now?”

I motioned in Eric’s direction. “Eric is standing right over there. He’s the one organizing the books in the horror section.”

“Ohhhh. What a wonderful coincidence that he happens to be here on this day of days.”

I really really didn’t like the way she said that. She was far too interested in Eric. At that moment, I wished that Eric would disappear into thin air.

“He’s kind of handsome,” said Ms. M. Then she started to point out his physical characteristics as if I were blind and couldn’t see him for myself. “Blond hair, six feet tall. I wager he is 175 pounds. Kind of cute.” She looked back at me. “Have you two ever dated?”

“No.”

“Really?” Ms. M seemed a bit surprised. “I thought he was your kind of guy. Is he gay?”

I again answered with “No.”

“Has he ever asked you out?”

“Several times,” I admitted.

Ms. M looked a bit perplexed.

“Why wouldn’t you date a fine young man like that?”

“He’s not my type. And I think of him as a brother. I’ve known him since elementary school.”

“Oh..well…That poor poor boy. I’m positively sure he thinks about you when he masturbates.”

A very different smile came across Ms. M’s face. A devious one. A devilish twinkle sparkled in those ocean blue eyes of hers. A burning fear began to rise from deep within the pit of my stomach. It was like my intestines were on fire.

“But I do wonder what type of man you truly desire. In fact, that gives me an idea. We are going to play a game that I hope the two of us can enjoy together. I will try to guess what type of qualities you look for in a man. If I’m on the wrong track, nothing will happen at all. But when I start to get the correct answers, you will experience a deep and powerful orgasm. But you won’t be able to come no matter what.

I couldn’t speak, but my look of utter shock and horror was all Ms. M needed to see to understand how I felt about her idea. I hoped to God she didn’t really have that level of control over me. But my instincts told me that she could indeed force my body to perform for her.

Ms. M half heartily reassured me. “Don’t worry dearest,“Try to enjoy this. Think of it as a friendly game amongst friends.”

I wanted to tell her to “fuck off!” And I wasn’t one to curse. I tried hard to move once more, but my butt stayed glued in the chair. Meanwhile, Ms. M began her questions.

“Let’s begin with personality traits. That Eric boy seems a lot like you. He’s clearly bookish and intellectual, which means you are attracted to someone with a different personality. Perhaps you desire a domineering man, one who always has control of the situation.”

Ms. M waited to see if this induced a reaction. But it didn’t. I bereaved a sigh of relief. She was way off track. It was possible that this woman would never guess the type of man I was interested in. The only thing I knew for sure was that I would die of embarrassment if someone saw me having an organism in public.

“No, apparently not. And of course not, you aren’t’ the fifty shades of grey type of girl. How silly of me. Your priority will be to find a man who takes romance as seriously as you do.” Ms. M had apparently been so certain of this guess that she smiled confidently in anticipation of my lustful outburst. But…to her surprise, nothing happened again. Ms. M frowned and tilted her head in a gesture of ponderment. Then she smiled once more. “Now that’s a surprise. But I like puzzles. I’m going to figure you out.”

She looked me over again as if trying to see some hidden truth. “I think you are somewhat like me. You like a good mystery. So perhaps you prefer mysterious men, the kind of man you will need to study intently as you do with poetry.”She again waited. And she again was met with silence. “Huh. Well….if you don’t like mystery…you must…enjoy complete understanding…you want a man who is like an open book, who is comfortable with sharing his feelings.”

It happened faster than I expected. An explosion of pleasure pulsed between my legs as a lustful surge of energy resonated through my helpless body. I squirmed in my seat as I fought down the compulsion to groan.

“Bingo,” said a very pleased Ms. M. “And well done keeping yourself from making your pleasure audible. But as I keep getting correct answers, your pleasure will become more and more intense; doubling in intensity each time. But remember, you will not be able to come.”

I couldn’t say anything in protest, but I looked at her with pleading eyes. Trying to will her to stop what she was doing. But of course, she had no intention of doing so.

“Ok, you like open and honest men, that has been established. But there is always more than one thing a young lady is seeking. Perhaps you would also desire a rich man or someone with power.”

I was spared for a brief moment. I used the time to try to recover and to prepare myself for the inevitable. She was eventually going to guess correctly again. It couldn’t be helped. And I knew that I needed to be ready.

“I didn’t think so,” said Ms. M. “Poets don’t make good money, so why would money matter to you. And power hungry ambitious men are usually not in touch with their inner emotions. But musicians and artist are. Perhaps that’s the kind of man you want.”

Nothing. I was spared a moment longer.

“No? Artistic and creative ability isn’t the quality you seek. Now that does surprise me. You truly want someone different from yourself…Hmmm…Well, you clearly enjoy the creative process…you like a blank page…a work in progress…you want a man who you can shape..a man that you can elevate into something greater. A man who needs your help.”

The next orgasm indeed came with greater intensity. My body rocked hard as a volcano of pleasure erupted in my G spot. Again I managed to keep my jaw clenched shut, but it took all my focus and self-control to do so.

“Well done,” complimented Ms. M. Giving me a wink. “I really thought that one would get the best of you. You have a strong force of will.”

I wanted to strangle her! But I knew that wouldn’t be possible. I inwardly prayed that she would stop with this pleasurable torture before I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“So far we have established that you want a man who is open with his emotions, and who needs your help. But I think someone like you, someone who really understands her own needs, will desire a trait that directly benefits you. You aren’t selfless.”

She brooded for perhaps a whole minute before continuing. I clinched my first in anticipation of the coming erotic attack.

“You aren’t confrontational. It took a lot to get you to be bitchy towards me. I made you feel very uncomfortable, but you didn’t want to deal with me on your own. You wanted to call over to Eric to help you out. You like your space, you have a strong need to feel safe. You want a man who will make you feel secure.”

This time I couldn’t contain it, though I was able to keep my volume somewhat low, I groaned in pleasurable agony as I felt a ripple of erotic energy release inside of me. My involuntarily outburst caught the attention of Eric, who had been taking his sweet time organizing those horror books.

“And this need for physical security directly translates into the physical attributes you desire in a man,” continued Ms. M, now inching ever closer to me. She was clearly enjoying my struggle. “I think you desire a big man.”

More pleasure, more intense than I thought was possible. My mind went hazy as again I groaned, this time even louder than before. I closed my eyes and tried to control myself. But Ms. M wasn’t finished.

“A man with bulging muscles, and who knows how to deal with conflict situations”

Now the pulsing ripples echoed again and again inside of me. Multiple orgasms at the same time, each becoming more and more powerful as if the Universe itself was fucking my mind, body, and soul all at once. This time I screamed in pleasure. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I reached down into my pants and began to rub my pussy. My thoughts had become animalistic. I had become a spirit of absolute lustful pleasure. For a few moments, the entire world disappeared as I surrendered to all my bodily desires.

“Holy shit Amber,” said Eric as he jogged over. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like she’s doing,” said Ms. M. “Can’t you see she’s trying to come. This woman is far too aroused to be allowed in public. She needs to be fucked hard for her own good.”

I wanted to rip her head off! I wanted to burn her alive and spit on the bitches grave! But my free will had been stripped away, and now my dignity had been taken from me. Eric wasn’t the only one who had been drawn to my erotic outburst.

My mind was racing at a million miles per hour, so I was able to quickly take in the details my surroundings with only the merest of glances. There were four women and two men watching me. One of the women looked to be in her sixties. She wore reading glasses, a velvet colored blouse and a long black skirt. Her hand was over her mouth, her eyes wide in horrified revulsion.

Two more women were standing side by side. One was very short and plump, looking to be in her late thirties or early forties. The other looked to be about the same age, but was overly skinny, and had a very sharply formed jawline and a pointed nose. They both wore conservative old fashioned dresses, and both wore necklaces that bore the Christian cross. They looked positively furious at me. I think in the days of old, these were the type of women who would stone me to death.

The fourth of the watching females was actually quite young, being even younger than me, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old. The young lady had bright decorative purple hair, easily her most noticeable feature. She had a hipster look, wearing torn up jeans, a jean styled jacket, and a tight t-shirt that seemed to have an emblem of a punk band on it. To my surprise, she was smiling and laughing, giving me the thumbs up as if she approved of what I was doing.

Of the two men watching, one was bald and looked to be in his mid-forties. But I didn’t get a chance to process his features because there was a clear bulge in his pants. He stealthy snuck away from the scene, apparently not wanting the others to spot his clear arousal. The other man, however, stood his ground. He was younger, probably being in his mid-thirties. He had long flaming red hair and a red goatee. He was licking his lips, and I saw him take out his phone. He clearly intended to take a picture, or worse yet, a video.

Inside my own head, I screamed, “No! No! No!” But my body would not relent. I needed to come. The pleasure was too intense and unnatural for my body to handle. Just then I saw Susan run up the stares. When she saw what I was doing, she blinked rapidly several times, seeming to lack the ability to process the bazaar scene that was unfolding. Her legs seemed to sway for a moment as if she was light headed. Even in my crazed mental state, I hoped she wasn’t going to pass out while on the stares.

Ms. M leaned over to whisper into my ear. “Do you want to come my dear?”

“Yes!” I almost screamed.

“Then take Eric somewhere private and give him the fuck of his life. Only then will you be able to come. This objective is now the focus of your entire existence. When you do finally do come, its going to be the most pleasurable experience you’ve ever had. Now go.”

I didn’t need any more prodding. I launched from my chair, freed my hand from my raging pussy, and grabbed Eric with more strength than I had never before possessed. I started to pull him down the stairs to the first floor, blazing straight past Susan, who was still too stunned to say or do anything.

“Wow! Amber!” Cried Eric in panic. “What in the world has gotten into you?”

Without thinking about it, I said far too loudly, “I need to come! And I need to come now!”

“Holy shit!” Exclaimed Eric. “Have you gone bat shit crazy!”

I ignored him. Once we reached the first floor I dragged him over to the ladies bathroom.

“I can’t go in there!” said a now frightened Eric.

“Fine,” I said, and then swung over to the men’s bathroom.

An older man with a grey beard had been taking a piss in a urinal. He almost lost control of his stream when Eric and I surged into the bathroom. I shot past the gaping man, dragging Eric behind me, opened the handicapped bathroom stall, pulled Eric inside and slammed it shut.”

Eric pleaded with me. “Amber, you need to get ahold of yourself. Where is that legendary self-control you possess?”

“Shut up! I know that you’ve always wanted to fuck me!”

I pretty much ripped off his employee’s shirt. Eric had always been a bit too skinny for my taste, but at that moment, any man would do. Eric continued to plead with me as I furiously stripped off my jeans and panties.

“Well ya,” admitted Eric. “But not like this. Not here. Not inside….Holy shit!”

I had already pulled down his pants and his underwear. I could tell that despite his reservations, his dick was preparing itself for its intended purpose. I pushed him onto the bathroom toilet and began giving him the most terrifying hand job he had ever received. I was pumping that dick as if my life depended on it.

“Oh my god!” Screamed Eric. “Oh sweet Jesus! Take an easy Amber! You’re going to rip my dick off!”

“Man up!” I demanded. “You’ve wanted this ever since you reached puberty! Show me what you got!”

As his dick finally went hard, I mounted him like a cat in heat, and I fucked him over and over again. Usually, the man does the fucking, but on that day I was the one forcing the issue. My mind had achieved a mental state of pleasure that I don’t think any woman has ever achieved. I had become sexually enlightened, reaching the farthest frontier of erotic exploration.

“Not yet!” I pleaded. “Not yet! Not yet! Not yet! Not yet!”

“Ohhhhh…Holy….Christ….Help me!” Cried Eric.

And then, after about three minutes, which had been the most intense three minutes of my life, I finally achieved my desired release, Eric losing control at that very same moment. His dick erupted with what felt like a bucket load of semen. The feeling was indescribable. I don’t know how loudly I screamed in pleasure. It was the closest thing to an out of body experience I’ve ever had.

It took several minutes for me to arrive back to sanity. And when I finally was back to my normal self, I was blushing so intensely what I thought I was going to spontaneously combust.

“Oh…hell..” I said. “Eric…are you alright.”

Eric looked truly frightened of me. It was as if he was stuck in a cage with a wild and dangerous animal. He seemed to consider his next words carefully.

“Amber…. I’m going to say two things….. Firstly…. that was an experience like none other….. I will never forget what just happened. However, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you have totally gone crazy, and should seek physiological help immediately.”

“I…I…I don’t know what to say” I admitted. “That woman. She did something to me. I didn’t have a….”

Eric interrupted me. “Amber, just please get away from me.”

I could tell that he wasn’t in the mood to listen. And I didn’t blame him one bit. I stood on shaky legs and did the best I could to put my jeans back on. I couldn’t use my underwear, because they had been torn after I had ripped them from my body. When I opened the door of the bathroom stall, two men were standing there. The man who had been taking a piss managed an awkward smile while giving me a nervous wave. His demeanor was that of a virgin having been caught watching porn for the first time. The other was the red-headed man from before, the one with the phone. He began laughing in delight when he saw my fearful and exhausted expression. But he never the less kept his phone raised.

“That was the craziest shit I’ve seen in years.” He said. “This is going to be a youtube sensation!”

I felt like I was going to throw up. With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked past him, back into the Barns and Noble main floor. About a dozen people were watching me with keen interest. Most looked at me like I was crazy, others looked at me with disgust, but the hipster girl was still giving me the thumbs up, apparently thinking what I had did was totally awesome. But Susie didn’t think so. She looked very uncomfortable. Not meeting my eyes. This made me feel even worse. I looked around for Ms. M, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“There…was a woman…” I began, my voice quivering in desperation. “She..she somehow made me do that…I don’t know how…Did any of you see her?”

Before anyone could answer, the front doors opened. Both of the conservative religious women from before walked in, closely being followed by two police officers.

“Ohhh shit,” I said. I was now doubly screwed.

The officers placed me under arrest for public indecency. There were plenty of witnesses and a man who was more than willing to share his video. My eyes teared up as the police took me away in handcuffs. I thought my life was ruined. But Little did I Know, this was only the beginning. Ms. M was far from finished with me, and she hadn’t’ even gotten started on my friends. I was slowly being pulled into the dark sea, my life sinking into oblivion.