The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

❧ October 5th. Monday.

I was woken by warm lips on mine, so it was a fair few minutes before I started to wonder why I was waking up when the sun was still low in the sky and the light too dim to penetrate my eyelids. I didn’t even wonder whose lips they were, but reached up gratefully to wrap my arms around my partner. Firm muscles, gracefully toned shoulders, a slender back, and breasts just larger than my own; Alex, my one true love as far as the rest of the world was concerned. I held her gently as my body started to wake up, hands running playfully and sensuously over golden bronze skin until she pulled away.

“I guess you’re awake now,” she said. Why does everyone have to tease me lately? “You’d better get some clothes on. You start college today, remember?”

Even after she said that, getting dressed was an elaborate affair that took the best part of half an hour. A few weeks ago, I’d been worrying about what to wear to my first class, to make a good impression when I met so many new friends for the first time. So Alex, in an enthusiastic mood that was quite typical of her, threw together a striking outfit for me. This was the first time I’d actually tried one of her creations, despite our close relationship, and I was amazed by how good I looked in the mirror, as well as how gentle those strong hands could be as she carefully dressed me.

She hadn’t picked one of the ornate vintage dresses she made for herself, she knew me way better than that. Instead she’d picked my usual day to day outfit—a simple t shirt and jeans—and recreated it in an incredibly over the top fashion using pale leather and PVC. Somehow, it worked perfectly.

I did notice, though, that this outfit had a belt sewn in as part of the jeans, and that it was decorated with chromed steel D-rings and studs that looked an awful lot like jewellery, but were clearly robust enough to take a little weight. I wondered how long it would be before I ended up chained to something, especially after I looked at it in a different way and came to notice at least three points on my body—at the neck, and the front and back where the jeans and t shirt met—that were clearly designed to be closed with padlocks.

“What’s this?” I turned away from the mirror to pout at Alex, giving my best impression of a curious-but-innocent little girl. I was nearly a year younger than her, but I don’t think I’d ever been truly innocent, so that expression always got a smile in response.

“It’s a special kind of buckle, pet,” she strode closer, and I felt my knees start to go weak at the thought of Alex in her most dominant persona. I knew that as soon as she spoke in the right voice, and used the right words, the post-hypnotic suggestions in my mind wouldn’t let me disobey. I was so horny just thinking about it, and I knew what she was going to say before the words left her lips: “I’ll just have to show you,won’t I?”

I could have cried when a shout came from the direction of the huge hallway: “Olivia? Are you going to be late for college?”

I glanced at the clock, and realised he was right. I needed to be going, and I couldn’t afford time to play now. My legs didn’t want to believe it though, and stayed rooted to the spot. Alex raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” I found it so easy now to slip into that role, it was hard to go back to being my usual obnoxious self, “Please may I go?” She was sitting back on the bed now, and looked like she was struggling just as much as I was not to run her fingers all over my body.

“Later, pet,” she said at last, and gave an involuntary gasp of pleasure at the words that held so much control over both of us, “Get to your class, and you’ll get a reward from me when you get home tonight.” That was all the push I needed. I sprinted along the hallway, slowed down to take the so-slippery marble stairs at a sensible pace, and then broke into a run again as soon as I’d grabbed my breakfast from the freshly-replaced kitchen counter.

The beautiful countertop and the bag of delicious bagels were both Jim’s work. I swear, that man was so talented it was beyond belief. I just about had time to wave and offer my most heartfelt thanks as I headed out of the back door and across the garden. The back garden wasn’t as fancifully ornate as the front, but it was a comfortable space with a small lawn and a small wooded glade. The back gate wasn’t as ostentatious as the front, but was also less rusted and gave a discreet exit into an avenue close to the Harman Institute of Technology. As I dashed through the gate, I almost ran into the back of my old friend Marten.

“Hey kid,” he caught me before I could stumble and fall, “Hurrying’s good, but you don’t want to do yourself an injury.”

“You’re heading to college too?” I offered a smile in thanks, “we’d better hurry.”

“Yeah, don’t want to be late on my first day.”

“Wait, what?” I stopped walking in surprise, then had to hurry after him, “You’re at college? I thought you graduated?” I ran through the numbers in my head. I’d first met Marten when I discreetly gatecrashed a party at the college, that must be nearly four years ago now. There was no way he’s still a student.

“Oh yeah, we’re both HIT’ites now. Isn’t that cool? Like we’re finally in the same peer group or something. Reckon we’ll have any classes together?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. For all Marten was a good friend, I couldn’t actually remember what he’d studied. Back in those days, his most interesting qualities had been a huge cock, a natural roughness that he tried too hard to rein in, and an inability to say ‘no’ after three or four beers. I should probably have paid more attention to the things he was saying, as well.

“Sorry,” he broke out in giggles to break the silence as we strode onto the terracotta paving that I’d soon come to regard as the boundary between campus and town. “I still love that confused look of yours, couldn’t help myself.”

He waved a card towards me, a slim bundle of electronics sandwiched between two layers of stiff plastic. The HIT College Card could be scanned by local bars and clubs to validate student discounts, or waved in the vague direction of a radio receiver beside any door on campus to grant you access to anywhere you had an academic reason to be. The letter that came with mine was glowingly proud of the advanced technology, boasting that your department could easily add access to any building for any student, or whole class lists at once. It acted as a parking permit too, and allowed you to book a conference room—billed to your faculty, of course—with a single swipe.

It also bore a student registration number and photo, for the benefit of local businesses who wanted to offer student discounts without the technological expense. And in the bottom corner, a stylised faculty name blended into the card’s border. Or in the case of Marten’s, the word ‘STAFF’ in red block capitals.

“You got a new job?” I ran forward without thinking and threw an excited hug around him, “Congratulations!”

He hesitated for a moment, slightly nervous. I guess some part of him was still worried I might try coming on to him again, and every contact was a moment of tension. I hoped he would get over it sooner or later, and realise we could still be friends. But after his moment of hesitation, he put an arm around me to complete the hug, and then it was my turn to pull away.

I didn’t shriek this time, but the pain must have been visible in my face. Marten quickly released my shoulders and looked down in concern. For a moment, I considered showing off my scabs, which were at least healed enough to not need bandages across most of my back any more, but still quite tender. Marten was probably the roughest guy I’d ever been with who didn’t actually call it S&M. I’d seen the lust in his eyes grow, I knew he got off on causing pain even if he hadn’t been willing to admit it at the time.

As much as I wanted to be open with all my friends about the wonderful, terrifying lifestyle I was now heading into, I just didn’t know how he’d take it. These kind of scars were vastly different from the bruises he’d given me, after all.

“Sorry,” I muttered eventually, “I’ve got a bit bruised a few days ago.” He didn’t respond immediately, but we walked in silence a few moments.

“As long as he appreciates you,” he muttered as we passed the gigantic frontage of the Harman Academic University Library.

“What?” I’d been getting carried away in my thoughts, and somehow managed to reply before my brain had processed what he said.

“I’m not going to judge what you’re into,” he started off slightly defensive, “but don’t let anyone hurt you unless you know you’re getting what you want.” I looked up to meet his eyes, and saw that he still cared. A true friend, I knew he’d be looking out for me.

“Thank you,” was all I could think of to say.

“Hey, Olivia!” Mark waved from the corner of an old, grey concrete building. “We’re in here.”

I walked towards him, briefly turning back to softly say to Marten, “I’d better get to class. But thanks, thanks for understanding. You can’t know how much that means to me.”

“I know the feeling,” he pulled me close enough to whisper, “I don’t want you to get hurt. But please, tell me it isn’t Brutus.”

He was gone before I could ask for clarification, presumably hurrying to work.

“Brutus?” I murmured to myself, just wondering what he could have meant. “Who’s Brutus?”

“Please, pretty lady,” Mark made a mock bow, like I’d walked into some kind of inside joke. He swung his arm out to put around my shoulders, but stopped before he made contact. I revised my first impressions of him upwards again, as he continued: “I love being on your mind, but please, don’t call me that.”