The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

❧ October 11th. Sunday.

Marten was strong and energetic, and just what I needed. For all his unexpected interest in my experiences with masochistic games, he was into brutality more than control. Being able to hurt me, and knowing that I enjoyed it just as much, was the thing to really turn me on, but he didn’t need the incredible self-control that I’d got used to with Master. I loved that feeling, of every detail of my experience being micro-managed so it would come out precisely as Master (or Alex, or Jules now) intended. But for once it was hot to know that here was a guy who just took the breaks off and let loose his inner animal. I was a little afraid, and that only excited me more.

It didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to. A few minutes and we were lying back on sheets I’d only cleaned that morning, now disheveled and soaked in sweat. There was no blood this time, but I wouldn’t be surprised if my breasts and ass were black and blue y morning. My arms too, the number of times he’d grabbed me and thrown me around rather than say which way he wanted me to turn. It was raw, and in its own way it was perfect.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, though I couldn’t have been too clear while I was speaking into the pillow. “That was…”

“Crap,” he interrupted, glancing out of the bedroom window at the sound of a car coming to a stop on the gravel driveway, “Crap, crap, crap. Mr Bicksteen’s home, and your girlfriend’s with him.” It only took me a second to switch my mind back to the track that his must be occupying, that enjoying myself with anyone new must be wrong. For a moment I was rushing to get my clothes on, to tidy up before Alex got home. But then I realised;

“Don’t worry, they won’t mind. I’m not in that kind of relationship any more, I can do what I need to make myself happy,” I said, but bit my lip towards the end of the sentence. I was free to explore different aspects of my life with whoever could best give me what I needed; Jim and Alex fulfilling different needs for me as well as for each other. But that didn’t mean I was free to lose control and fuck whoever I wanted, without even checking with them.

“I can’t,” he interrupted my train of thought, and I felt my mouth hanging open as I suddenly realised that it hadn’t crossed my mind to wonder about his fiancée, Britney.

“You mean…” I muttered quietly, drowning in a pool of regret I hadn’t even touched in months, “When you said about my partners letting me go to someone else for the things they aren’t into, I assumed you were like… the same?”

“With Mandy, sure. Don’t think you ever met her. She introduced me to this whole lifestyle thing, where there’s people out there who will be into the same things you are, if you can just find them. She called it ‘ultraviolence’, and she just loved to be hit.” He gave a kind of one sided shrug, as if to suggest he was able to dismiss this as just another quirk someone might had. His expression told a different story, eyes down to not meet my gaze. I could see he didn’t get why pain could be so liberating, so exciting, even if he was willing to go with it because it gave him what he wanted. I tossed his balled-up jacket at him to break the moment of introspection, and he carried on dressing as he continued: “She just got off on the violence, but it wasn’t like sex. She never wanted to fuck, right? So she said she doesn’t mind if I get somebody else for that, and it was great. One girl to date and slap around, one girl to fuck. And one for the other thing, I don’t think my ego could stand telling you about that just yet, but it was me and 3 wonderful women for a while. Yeah, I know how it sounds, but it worked for all of us. But I never quite figured on falling in love. And then Brit said she wanted to try a bit more… to see how the other things feel. And it sounds crazy, but once she’d tried it she couldn’t get enough. It started out doing it to please me, to maybe understand me a bit better, and of course Cheri’s always telling her she should try it. But then she really got into it, into everything, and I realised we must be made for each other to have exactly the same things in common. So now I… I can’t tell her, I don’t want to hurt her.”

’Not in that way,’ a rebellious voice from my subconscious added; but it wasn’t the time to make jokes. I could understand his feelings more than he ever knew; I’d cheated on Alex once, and the guilt was the worst feeling of my life. It had worked out well for us, but I couldn’t even hope it would go so well for someone else.

“We let our emotions get on top of us,” I said, “It won’t happen again, not now I know the score.” And I was surprised to find that didn’t hurt at all. For a long time, without realising, I’d been wondering how it would feel to be taken by a powerful man without self control. Maybe aspects of this fantasy had even slipped into my subconscious and coloured my dreams. But now I’d done that, it was no loss to decide it was a one off.

I imagined I could hear Alex’s footsteps on the stairs in the foyer. I told myself it must be in my mind, that even the resonant click-click of heels on marble steps wouldn’t carry that far. Marten was dressed now, at least, though I’d been trying to find anything he’d dropped as we spoke instead of focusing on my own outfit. When the door rattled in its frame—a sign of the changing air pressure in the corridor or something, I guessed, it did it any time you were more than usually vigorous in opening the door at the other end—I panicked and threw on a dressing gown. I was still flushed, and there’s no way I could hide my smile and blushing, but as long as he was presentable I might not have to.

‘Marten’s just come round to ask—whatever he was here for, I didn’t even ask yet—and I was entertaining myself in the bedroom.’ I told myself. It seemed feasible enough. ‘I’m standing in front of the door because I don’t want him to guess what I was doing, I’m shy even if my face makes it pretty obvious.’ It wasn’t true, and it would annoy the hell out of Jim if he found me lying, but maybe I wouldn’t even need to say anything. Before I closed the bedroom door, I extracted one of Alex’s favourite toys from the dresser and threw it onto the bed. Little details could sell any story.

“You only just arrived,” I told him as I closed the bedroom door behind me, and blushed again as the crowded space of our little library/entranceway brought us closer than I would have liked in the circumstances. “What were you here for, anyway?”

“Actually, I came to see if Alex was in,” it was the perfect line for Alex to walk in on, and I wonder if on some level he’d planned it like that. In spite of all the experience, he was a lot better than me at looking innocent.

“Oh, that CD?” she squeezed past him without bothering to say hi, and grabbed a box from one of the bookcases, “I was meaning to catch you this morning, sorry.”

“No worries,” he saluted with the box and turned away, “I’d better… uhh… leave you to it, then. See you around.” He left relatively quickly, which I guess would have been quite understandable if he realised he’d interrupted me in a compromising position. Alex didn’t even need to ask what I’d been up to, I could see the assumption on her face.

“So, what’s floating your boat?” she asked as soon as the door’s judder indicated we had privacy. My mind raced, wondering where her understanding had reached. Did she think that the show was purely for his benefit, and if so was she going to be OK with me ‘cheating’ in order to avoid the oh-so-conventional Marten being aware of our relationship status. I was almost lost in the maze of possible scenarios of who thinks what, when she clarified: “Oh come on, no need to look so scared! I can tell from your face, you were up to something when he came in. I just have to wonder what was on your mind… or who? You haven’t got Jules hidden away in there, have you? I’ll go fix a celebratory dinner.” Alex was grinning now, a little clue to let me know she didn’t think it was likely, but that she wouldn’t mind if it was.

I had no idea what she’d think if she knew the truth. Would she disapprove of me doing stuff with a guy without asking either of my real partners? Would she be upset that I did it without thinking about how his partner would feel? Would she even be offended because I wasn’t taking enough care with my own emotional wellbeing? That seemed the most likely, and stabbed me through the heart with guilt in a way that none of the other options had. I knew that she wouldn’t be jealous, because she really wanted me to be happy; and that was the kind of love I knew I couldn’t betray. I promised myself, again, this would be the last time I’d ever cheat on my lovers.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, though I knew I couldn’t tell her why without causing trouble for Marten too.

“Don’t worry,” she put an arm around my shoulders, “And I’m sorry for being back so late. We were shopping for light fittings, of all things, and there was a live band in the town square, we got a bit carried away watching them.”

“You’re here now,” I purred, but my cheerfulness sounded false even to me. “Jules has been teasing me all afternoon, I couldn’t wait to get home and see you. Don’t make me wait any more, okay?” I could tell she still wanted to ask me what was wrong, but at the same time she could tell I didn’t want to say. I couldn’t think about anything else until we’d dealt with this, but I couldn’t bring myself to open up. I thought about different things I could say, but there wasn’t a happy ending in sight.

I saw a glimmer in her eyes, excitement maybe, but I didn’t know what was on her mind. She whispered a single word, and suddenly I wasn’t thinking about regrets or dishonesty at all. I wasn’t thinking anything. I opened my mouth to make a witty riposte, and only then realised I didn’t even know what she’d said. Her lips had moved, the sound reached my ears, but I didn’t have the faintest idea what that word was. It was like I didn’t even have any choice what to think, and my mind was suddenly running on rails.

I stared at her mouth, and found myself almost panting in anticipation as her tongue darted out to leave a quick trace of moisture on her lips. She had two rings on her lower lip, amazingly ornate silver designs that looked like something out of another century. As her tongue retreated, she touched the left one from the inside, making the tiny amethyst at its centre sparkle in the evening light. I could just imagine the contrast between the hard edge of the jewellery, and the warm softness of her lips, when she chose to lick, or to bite. It was a delicious thought, dominating my mind so much that I didn’t even need to think about what she’d just said to me, one word that commanded the whole of my being, even if I couldn’t remember what it was.

I realised what was happening to me as I found my attention swinging back and forth like a pendulum, between the million tiny glints of pink light off the crystal, and trying to recall that word, and wondering why the light on that ring suddenly captured my attention so much, and realising that every time I tried to remember the word she’d used, it sank further and further into the deep recesses of my mind where I couldn’t remember it. Trying to understand why I was suddenly fascinated, staring at the lips I’d have to obey, was like trying to hold on to a dream in the moments after waking, trying to bring back the memory of a word that I could only know when I was dreaming again, so relaxed and comfortable. I didn’t know what that word would make me do, or make me feel, but I didn’t need to know right then. All I had to feel was my mind switching off as my body became more turned on; my eyes closing just as Master had decided they should, and my body obeying Mistress’s words without needing any cooperation or even understanding from me.

It was a dream come true.