The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Phase Zero Clinical Trial: Response To Hypnozamine In The Human Female

by B Pascal

Chapter 20

And in the days that followed it seemed that she had dropped off the face of the earth. She didn’t show up for her usual 2:15 snack break, I didn’t see her at lunch. I wondered if I should go over to the executive office area and check up on her, but I had no reason to be there and it might cause a problem with Clark if it got back to him.

Mostly I was a bit put off because I was looking forward to the next chapter or two, and she had forgotten to give them to me to look over.

Wednesday night, after work, I got a phone call at home from Sara.

“I was beginning to think I’d done something to upset you,” I told her.

“No, not at all, Sam. We—Nance and I, I mean—both agreed that we had a great time. Actually, it helped us to reconnect. In fact, that’s the reason I called. See, after you left we spent all Saturday together, reminiscing and laughing, and before we knew it, it was Sunday afternoon.

“I’d forgotten how much fun she can be and how easy we were with each other, and we got into some pretty intense conversations over those couple of days. And we came out the other side, feeling like we wanted to spend more time together. One thing led to another, and I mentioned that my lease was coming up for renewal pretty soon, and she suggested that I move in with her.

“When she said it, Sam, I realized that it felt right. At least, I think so. So we agreed to give it a try. I don’t mean just as roommates, Sam, she wants us to be partners, and I may want that, too. I feel really comfortable with her, like I don’t have to put up a front.

“I really like you, Sam, you’re smart and funny and good looking and I think you get me, but for now I think I want to try being with Nance. It might not work out, just like it didn’t when we were in college, but for now it feels like the right thing to be with her. I hope you’ll understand.”

Well, I can’t say that came completely out of left field, she certainly attracted women and was in turn attracted to them, but I had thought it more of a bi thing. This was a step further.

“Sara, I won’t lie, I’m more than a little disappointed. I loved being with you and talking to you and laughing with you, completely aside from the gorgeousness factor. I’ve been thinking a lot about you recently. But if you think this will make you happy, then I’ll wish the both of you the best of luck. And if it doesn’t work out, Sara? Promise me you’ll let me know, and maybe we could try again.”

She promised that, said goodbye and blew a little kiss over the phone. I thought there was a catch of breath there, too, like she was choking up.

I sat there with the dead phone in my hand, feeling quite alone all of a sudden. I’d really liked her and I was sad that we hadn’t gotten deeper into a relationship, but this was something she’d have to work through on her own. I was only thankful that I hadn’t talked more about her to my mother. If she had found out Sara had broken it off, she’d be sure that it was somehow my fault. I wasn’t sure how I’d explain to her that Sara had left me for another woman.

The evening, which previously promised only to be aimless and a little boring, was now becoming depressing. I found a beer in the fridge, and sat on the couch and felt sorry for myself. Several more beers didn’t make me feel any better. Eventually I found a book entertaining enough to occupy me until it was time for bed.

The next day I went in to work determined to focus entirely on research and to try to forget everything that had happened with Sara. It wasn’t entirely successful, as she’d pop into my mind unbidden. I’d read a journal article and think, “I wonder if Sara saw this. I’ll bet she’ll find it interesting.” But then I’d remember that we weren’t on that level any more.

I went out to lunch with some of the lab crew, just to avoid being alone, but come early afternoon I was snack-ish again, so I went down to the cafeteria. Honestly, I didn’t even look at the clock, my stomach just told me it was time, so I was surprised to find that it was 2:15 when I got there.

I got—just to be different—a bottle of fruit juice and a cup of chocolate pudding. I remembered having that as an after-school snack when I was a kid, so maybe that’s where the idea came from. I was perusing messages on my phone, when the chair across from me was pulled back and I looked up to see Liz sitting down. Yep, still beautiful, perhaps even more so, because she was positively beaming.

“Well, the lost sheep returned to the fold,” I said.

“I was busy. And nervous. I really couldn’t talk to people, not even you, Sam.”

“Nervous? What about?”

“You know exactly what about. About meeting Morrow. About her looking at my writing.” She gave me a look like, weren’t you paying attention?

“Ah. So when do you meet with her?”

“I already did. I got up my courage to call her after we’d talked on Monday, and it only took one reminder but she remembered you and the party and agreeing to talk to me. So she asked some questions, on the phone, I mean, about my writing process, how long I’d been doing it, who I admired, those kinds of things. I guess that was to find out if I was serious and worth talking to.

“Then she said—you’ll like this—she said, ’Halloran thinks a lot of your writing, said that it “captured him”. He seems like a bright guy, good instincts, so maybe you’re worth a little of my time.’ Did you say that, Sam, that ’captured’ thing?”

“Well, I’d had a couple of beers so I can’t remember exactly, but it sounds like something I’d say.”

“So, anyway, we set up an appointment for me to go see her—I had to get permission from Schwartz’s boss, who’s covering for him, I told him it was a doctor’s appointment, and drove to her office. Sam, I was terrified, I almost turned around and drove home, but I forced myself.

“And walking in to the building, my heart was in my throat, and the closer I got to her office the more tense I got. I had to wait for a few minutes past my time, ’cause she was finishing a call, probably to someone famous, then her assistant took me in.

“I was about ready to faint, but she was friendly and down-to-earth and I relaxed some. We talked some more, and she asked if I had something short she could read right now, and I gave her one of my shorter stories, three pages, I think. She read that, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking when she put it down, but she asked if I had another short one. I found one that was about four pages, and she read that and even laughed once at what I guessed was about the right place in the story where the funny part was.

“Then she said, ’Okay, Conway, it seems Halloran wasn’t completely full of shit. Why don’t you give me what you’ve got, and I’ll read some of it over the next few days, then we can talk again.’ Then she stood up and we shook hands, and she said, ’It’s better than a lot of the stuff we get. Let’s see how your longer pieces read. I’ll be in touch.’”

She reached out and put one hand over mine, and again I was paralyzed, like high voltage surging through my body.

“Sam, I don’t remember how I got back to where I parked my car, I was just replaying that whole interview in my mind. Even if nothing comes of this, this made me feel like all this work meant something. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but that comment about ’better than a lot of the stuff we get’ is really high praise coming from her. You know she’s kind of famous, don’t you, at least among authors?”

I told her no, I hadn’t, she was just a smart, funny woman I met at a party. Liz looked at me. The look said, “Oh, you poor, deluded child.”

She gave my hand a squeeze and I thought my heart would stop.

“Sam, I can’t tell you how much this meant to me. I could hardly sleep at all that night, just thinking about everything that had happened. And then after work the next day I just sat down and started writing like crazy. I churned out a couple of more chapters. Oh! I forgot. I’d meant to give you some more last week and your news just pushed it out of my mind.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope with the next chapters, and said, “Here, these are the ones I did last week. Look them over, and whatever comments you come up with will be really helpful. I’ve got to get back. I just wanted to tell you what had happened and how excited I am. This wouldn’t have happened without you.”

She gave my hand another squeeze and I’m not sure how I remembered how to form speech, but I did and I asked, “Did Deb say when she’d get back to you?”

“No, just that she’d be in touch. I’d guess sometime after the weekend. Sam, I owe you. I won’t forget it.”

Then she was off and I realized I could move my hand again. As she walked away her butt seemed to be doing a little dance underneath the skirt. I don’t think I was the only one who noticed, as the conversation level in the room dropped noticeably.

I dumped my dishes at the dish-washing station and went back to the lab. Again, the magic of faster-than-light gossip manifested itself and as soon as I walked in the looks started. This time it was Frank who asked, conversationally, “I heard you and Liz Conway were having an intense discussion in the cafeteria. Something you’d like to share with the class?”

“Nothing that would interest you. It was about the interpretation of Greek poetry, if you must know.”

That got a somewhat impolite snort from him and derisive smiles from the others.

I’ll skip a couple of days here, nothing that would interest you. Until Friday. I was still feeling a bit down about Sara, and the thought of a couple of days alone in my apartment was as enticing as it sounds. So when Art asked if anyone wanted to go have dinner before heading home, it sounded like something to stave off the inevitable four walls and silence waiting at home.

Then it was a discussion of where, and the usual places got mentioned. In the end I was outvoted and it was TGIF again. I was wishing they’d chosen another place because Friday+TGIF means Trivia Night, and that probably means the Know-It-Alls would be there. I was not at all sure that Maria would be happy to see me, and she might even be looking for a new guy to take home. Nor did I want to be passed around among the others, the prize in a secret rock-paper-scissors raffle.

But now I was committed, so off we went. We got a different booth than last time, but pretty much the same food in the same raucous atmosphere. If anything, it was a little louder this time. And sure enough, there they were, on the other side of the room, this time at a round table. There was another woman with them, probably the no-show from last time for whom I had been the substitute. I kept my head down.

Our food arrived, so we fed ourselves and chattered about everything under the sun. Deciding to live dangerously, I ordered a second beer. I was now feeling relatively safe from the Know-It-Alls, who hadn’t yet noticed me, mostly because my back was to them.

But I spoke too soon, because while they hadn’t seen me, they did recognize Art, who was sitting with Frank on the other side of the booth, facing their table. Martha, the one who had kidnapped me the first time, stood up and came over. As she approached the booth she said, “Excuse me, weren’t you here last week with... Oh! Here he is! Did you come to play trivia again, Sam?”

“Um, no, Martha, we came to have dinner after work. My brain is pretty much worn down to a nub, so I don’t think I’d be much use.”

“Yeah, you tried that excuse last time, too, and you still got us a win. I think your brain’s fine. C’mon, why don’t you join us? Easy money. The thrill of victory. Gloating over the agony of everyone else’s defeat. What could be better? You guys want in, too?” She was looking at Art and Frank.

Art said again he wasn’t a good trivia person, Frank said he had somewhere to be. She turned to look at me again. “Don’t wimp out on us, Sam. You were a star last time. We’ll be unbeatable with you on our team.”

So I was faced with a choice of sitting alone at home, or possibly being the prize in a silent auction. I had nothing against getting laid, I just wasn’t sure if tonight was the night for it. But in the end I caved and said I’d do it.

I put some cash down to cover my food and drinks, and followed Martha back to Trivia Central. “Look who I found!” she shouted. And Maria, who had had her back to our booth, looked up and saw me and gave me a big smile. And that caused the others to pass each other knowing smirks. They would probably be whispering to each other shortly, perhaps passing notes under the table like they did in high school.

“You know everyone, Sam, except for Barbara here who was AWOL last time, and we won in spite of her so she’d better watch herself.” Barbara gave Martha the finger and a smile.

I found an empty chair and pulled it up next to Maria. I was pleased to see that she seemed surprised and happy to see me. “I feel more confident now. I think we’re gonna whip their sorry butts,” she assured me.

I didn’t quite share her confidence, but the odds were better with more people, as Martha had said. Maria had gotten her chair closer to mine so our legs were brushing. I wasn’t sure how she’d done that, since she hadn’t seemed to have physically moved. But I was definitely feeling leg.

In a few minutes, the same MC with the too-loud mic started the same introduction, and soon we were underway.

“First question. Which hockey team did Wayne Gretzky play for in the ’80s?”

Barbara was on her feet. “Edmonton Oilers! Go, Alberta!”

She sat down and caught me looking at her. “I’m Canadian. It’s one of those questions you’re required to know in order to move on from elementary school in Canada.”

“Next question,” said the MC. “Who discovered penicillin?”

I knew this, and shouted “Alexander Fleming!” at the same time as another table. The judges consulted and gave it to us.

It went on like that. We knew more than our share, but the other teams were tough and were not going to give up easily. So after two hours we were again in a dead heat with one other team—not the same one as last week, I don’t think—and locked in the elimination round.

I wasn’t clear on who was in the lead, but the two finalists were close. The MC called out, “Automobile trivia. In what year was the Chevrolet Corvette first introduced?”

I’m not much of a car person—they’re pretty much transportation for me—but my dad was, so a lot of this stuff was buried down deep from hearing it in my childhood. Without even hesitating I was on my feet shouting, “1953!”

“Correct, and that ties it up. Two questions remaining.” He asked which country did the band AC/DC originate in, and none of us were quick enough with an answer, but the other team was. Two of them jumped up and shouted, “Australia!” with an Australian accent in unison.

Beside me, Maria had quietly placed her hand on the inside of my thigh, perilously close to my dick. I think I will not be able to leap to my feet now without drawing attention to myself.

The MC said, “Final question. How long is the gestation period of an African elephant?”

I was an undergrad biology major, and had to take a zoology course as part of the degree requirement, so it took only a second to remember and, remaining in my seat, I shot my hand up and shouted, “Twenty-two months!”

“And that ties the game. So a tie-breaker question for the win: What metal is a liquid at standard temperature and pressure?”

I took a chemistry course or two, so it didn’t take much remembering to shout out, “Mercury!” The other table’s members punched the air and looked angry at not being fast enough to win. The women at mine were on their feet hugging each other, and Maria leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.

“Is that two weeks in a row for the win, do I remember that correctly?” the MC asked no one in particular over the mic, but Martha jumped up and down and clapped her hands, shouting, “Yes! Yes!”

The other team was packing up, collecting coats, paying tabs, and looking dejected. Ours was still ebullient, and Martha headed up to collect our winnings. Maria turned to me and said, “So once again you save our bacon. Nice job.”

“I think you guys would have been fine on your own.”

“Don’t think so. There were a couple of questions that only you knew the answer to, and the teams were closely matched enough that I think they’d have had the edge in the end. It was you who tilted the scales.”

“Well, I’m glad to have aided the cause.”

“I’m happy you showed up, Sam. Was this part of your plan?”

“No, I went out with the guys for dinner after work, and this is the place they voted for. I was in the mood for someplace quieter.”

“So my bribes worked,” she said. I raised an eyebrow.

“Just joking. I was kinda hoping you’d make an appearance. You in the mood for some coffee and dessert?”

Before I could answer, Martha returned with a fist full of bills, and divided them amongst us. A couple of them went off to get another drink at the bar, and Martha said, “You guys gonna have a drink with us?”

Maria told her, “No, I think we’re going to the diner for coffee. I think I’ve had enough to drink.”

And again they did the secret women-only communication where they said one thing but it had a completely different meaning, known only to them.

“Oh, come on,” Martha said, “one more drink.” (”You gonna take him home and ball him till he’s unconscious?")

“No, I have to drive. Coffee’s better.” (”That’s the plan.")

“Well, we’ll miss you. Thanks for the assist, Sam.” (”I’ll call you tomorrow, Maria. I’ll want all the dirty details.")

So we collected our coats and waved goodbye to the others, who were still at the bar deciding who they were going to allow to hit on them while they waited for their drinks. As we did the last time, we walked to the diner, a short distance.

I ordered coffee and pie, and she got a Greek salad and ice tea. We chatted while we waited for our food.

I said, “So, you guys thinking of making the team formal, touring the country, sweeping the trivia contests? Easy money, lots of glamour. You could print up T-shirts with Know-It-Alls on the front.”

“It wouldn’t have the same thrill if you weren’t there, Sam. So I’ll pass. Maybe next year.”

I wondered what was on her mind. I could see there was something there, but she was playing it really close to the vest.

Just then the waitress dropped our plates in front of us. I mean that literally, she didn’t even stop, just dropped them on the table as she strode past on her way to someplace else. The food mostly stayed on the plates.

Maria took a forkful of salad and I said, “Hold on, is that a bit of keratin on your sleeve?” I reached out ostensibly to touch her sleeve, but by that time she was already staring beyond me at nothing, locked on to the sound of my voice.

“Maria,” I asked conversationally, “what are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about the last time we were together. How much fun I had. How good I felt.”

“I had fun, too, and I felt great after. But really exhausted. It was wonderful. Did you think about it afterwards, did you think you might want to try again?”

“Yes, but I was afraid you’d think I was too easy. I don’t want you to think that about me.”

“I wouldn’t, Maria. If two people enjoy each other, why shouldn’t they indulge it? We’re both adults.”

“That’s what I think. But I didn’t know what you’d think.”

“Now you know. Were you thinking about specific things we’d done, or about things we didn’t get a chance to try?”

“Yes, I came really hard when you fucked my ass. And I was surprised at how turned on I got when you punished me for being bad. I’d never tried that before. I’d also like for you to tie me up so I can’t move and do whatever you want to me. It gets me hot.”

I thought back to the last suggestion I’d left her with, about seeking some insight into these particular compulsions. I was going to ask her about them, but decided to hold off.

“All right, Maria. We’re going to resume our conversation now, and as soon as I clap my hands you’ll forget everything I said, but you’ll recall the information as if you’d thought of it yourself. And when we start talking again, you’ll find yourself slowly getting more and more aroused, until all you can think about is how hard your nipples are and how wet your pussy is and how badly you need to get fucked.”

I started talking about memory tricks that enabled people to remember dates and events and facts, and how some people were much better at it. Under the table I clapped my hands once.

She came back slowly, eyes still over my shoulder, hearing my voice and becoming aware of the other sights and sounds around us.

I went on, “ even though I know how it’s done, I never really learned the trick of committing these random facts to memory. How do you remember them?”

“Huh,” she said. “Oh, sorry, I spaced for a moment there. What was the question?”

“Not really important. Your salad okay? You haven’t touched most of it.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she said, taking another bite. “My mind was drifting for a while. I took a big step this week, and it’s been occupying my head, so I’ve been drifting off periodically while I try to understand it.”

I looked interested, but didn’t say anything, just took a sip of coffee and waited for her.

“It concerns you, too, at least peripherally,” she said. “You remember the last time we spent time together, and the... the restraints and how you punished me?” She looked down at her plate, not meeting my eyes.

“Of course I remember, Maria.”

“I don’t think I told you how much I’d come to depend on that kind of sex play to get me over the edge, to make me cum. Not so much now, but in the past I’d pick guys up in bars who looked like they’d be rough, demanding and forceful, maybe even physical. It got me off at the same time that it made me hate myself for doing it.”

“I didn’t know,” I said. I did know, but she had only told me while in her “trance”, so as far as she knew it was new information to me.

“Sam, I’m a little ashamed to be telling you this, but I thought you should know. I don’t know why this gets me off, but it does, and I’m worried that I’m going to get into a situation someday where I’ll get really hurt because someone can’t control themselves. I finally decided that I needed to figure out why I do this, so I made an appointment to talk to a counselor about it. I had my first meeting with her, so at least the problem is out in the open, and now we have to figure out why and how I deal with it.”

She finally looked up at me. “Do you think less of me now? Do you want to call it a night?”

I reached over and took her hand. “That must have taken a lot of courage, not only to tell me about it, but reaching out to the counselor in the first place. That sounds like the right thing to do, and, no, I don’t think any less of you. In fact, I think more highly of you for having had the strength to see there was a problem and finding a way to deal with it. You’re a strong woman, as well as sexy and smart and beautiful. You’ll work your way through this.”

“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot. Sam, do you think you might want to try again a second time? Now that you know my secrets?”

“If I had to do cartwheels through the parking lot to get to make love to you again, I’d do it. The thought of it is making me a little dizzy.”

She smiled. “Me, too,” she said. I noticed that her nipples were prominent under her bra and her blouse.

“Finish your salad and let’s go,” I told her.

“Wait, I have to find out what my roommate’s up to. I’m a little self-conscious about having guys over when she’s there. Especially you, ’cause I make so much noise with you when I cum. Wait a minute.”

She pulled out her phone and sent a text message, I assumed to her roommate’s phone, and waited for a reply. She nibbled at her salad in the meantime. In a couple of minutes her phone dinged, and she nodded. “Okay, she’s at Jeff’s tonight, that’s her boyfriend, so we’re good till late morning at least.”

The waitress did another fly-by and the check fluttered onto the table. I took out some cash for a tip, and went up to pay the bill at the counter. When I got back, Maria had put the last forkful of salad in her mouth, and with her mouth full mumbled, “Okay, ready to go.”

She grabbed my arm on the walk back to our cars, staying very close. “You remember how to get to my place?” she asked.

“I think so,” I said, and named the street. She nodded and told me she’d meet me in the lobby.

I actually did remember how to get to her place, more muscle memory than anything else, but I recognized the building and parked. She was waiting in the lobby when I got to the door.

“I was afraid you’d gotten lost.”

“No, I was fine, my car remembered the way.”

Her door clicked closed and already she was trying to pull my coat off at the same time she was trying to stick her tongue down my throat. We got things sorted, and necked and groped our way down the hallway to her bedroom, leaving items of clothing in our wake. By the time we got near the bed, our shoes were gone, somewhere in the hall, and our shirts were unbuttoned.

I pulled myself away from her tongue for a moment. “Maria, how do you want this to go tonight? Last time you asked me to tie you up and force you. You told me you got off on that, but you’ve also told me that you think maybe that’s not right. Do you still want me to restrain you, to order you around, or would you like to try something else?”

“I don’t know, Sam. I’m so used to doing things this way that I’m not sure I can get off any other way. I’m worried about doing it that way with other guys because they can be too physical, almost abusive, but I don’t worry about that with you, you know your limits. And mine, too. So until I figure this out a bit more, can we try something like last time? The “punishment” stuff was fun and surprisingly erotic, maybe more of that?”

I wasn’t quite sure about this. I didn’t get the same thrill from it that she did, but if I did it in a way that wouldn’t hurt her, maybe I could humor her. I thought about it long enough that she cocked her head curiously to look at me, wondering if perhaps I was reconsidering.

“Okay, Maria. We’ll try that for awhile. You remember your safe word?”

“Ballerina,” she replied. I nodded.

I sat down on the bed and looked at her. She was still fully dressed, but for her shoes, and her blouse was unbuttoned.

“Maria,” I said in a severe tone, “I’m very disappointed in you. I thought you had improved, but the truth is that you’ve failed again. You know what this means, don’t you.”

It was really interesting to see how her body changed, from a person confident in their looks and abilities, someone in control, to a posture like a child’s, pulling in on herself, cowering, awaiting the criticism that would follow.

But she shook her head, saying she didn’t know what it meant, asking me to spell it out.

With a sigh, I said, “It means that I will have to punish you again, because you’ve disappointed me again, you haven’t learned your lesson. Will you accept your punishment?”

Quietly, almost so I couldn’t hear her, she whispered, “What is it?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t decided yet. But we both know you need to be punished, and you can’t be punished while you have your good clothes on. Remove your clothes, everything, and fold them neatly, please. Be quick.”

I hoped her therapist helped her figure this out quickly, because I was seeing some things here that made me nervous and uncomfortable. She was behaving like a little girl caught saying a very naughty word at home and a grown-up was going to make her regret it.

She started taking off her blouse, followed by her skirt. She folded them and placed them on the seat of the chair. She reached behind her, eyes on me, and unhooked her bra, placing it on the chair, then stepped out of her panties. There was something very disturbing about seeing this beautiful, sexy woman with the gorgeous body and the fearful look of a child on her face.

“All right, Maria. Now sit on your heels and put your hands in your lap and wait there.”

I stood up and watched her while I undressed. She looked like a prisoner waiting for the ax to fall. I put my clothes neatly on top of hers on the chair, placing my shorts on top.

“Maria, go to your dresser drawer where you keep your toys and bring me the whip.” She flinched, but she went. She found the whip, the same as last time, and brought it to me, laying it horizontal and presenting it to me with two hands.

“Thank you, Maria. Now, while I think about what your punishment will be, I want you to sit on your heels in front of me and slide the tip of my cock in your mouth. You should use a bit of tongue, but no hands, understand?”

She nodded, and I continued, “You do that until I tell you different. And if I feel you’re not doing your best job, I will give you a swat with the whip.”

She lifted her head and found the tip of my dick and wrapped her lips around it. Oh, brother, I hope my willpower holds out, because that feels really good. Whoops, there’s the tongue, ah, fuck.

Just to follow procedure, I gave her a swat with the whip on the cheeks of her ass. She whimpered, and bobbed a little faster. I’m not going to be able to keep this up for long. I’ve got to find a way to draw this out that isn’t so stimulating for me.

“Maria, I’ve decided that punishment alone isn’t enough to solve your behavior problem. I think we need to bring confession into it. By telling me some of the disgraceful, shameful things you’ve done, you may be able to better recognize and correct your faults. Do you agree?”

She still had my dick in her mouth, but she looked up at me and nodded.

“All right, Maria, we’ll start when you were younger. How old were you when you gave your first blowjob?”

She pulled off my dick—reprieve!—and said, “Twelve.”

“That’s pretty young. Tell me the details, who, where, did they like it?”

“It was my cousin Roberto. He was fourteen and good looking, I was attracted to him, even though he was my cousin. He started kissing me and feeling my tits, tried to get his hands under my dress, but I wouldn’t let him, ’cause I knew what could happen. He finally took out his prick and asked me to kiss it.”

“Was that the first time you’d touched a dick?”

“Yes. It was bigger than I’d thought. Then he asked me to lick it, and it felt good under my tongue. He convinced me to take it in my mouth, and I liked the feel of it. I didn’t expect him to cum in my mouth, but he did, he grabbed my head to keep me from pulling off until he’d unloaded everything and I had to swallow it or choke.”

“Did you like it the first time, or were you turned off by it?”

“I think I liked it. It didn’t taste as bad as some of the girls said it would.”

“Good, Maria, you’re being honest, that’s a step forward. Suck my dick some more.”

She reached up and grabbed it with her lips. The tongue danced around the tip and felt exquisite. I took hold of the sides of her head and pushed my dick further in. She made an “Ummph” sound and it slid halfway in. I fucked her face for a minute, then had to stop.

I pulled out and she drew several deep breaths. “Maria, it feels good to be honest, to admit our faults, doesn’t it?” She nodded again.

“Tell me about the first time you got fucked. What happened, how old were you, you know.”

She was a little more hesitant now, appeared to be struggling with this.

“I was fourteen, I was hanging out with some cool kids, in this little wooded area near the school. They had some weed and some beer, and we were just getting high and talking about nothing, and one of the guys put his arm around me and leaned me back on the ground, kissing me and squeezing my boob, and before I knew it another guy was forcing my legs apart, and the first guy was holding me down until the other one got his dick in me. It hurt, he was rough. The other two girls who were there didn’t do a damn thing, just watched, never said a word.

“The guy inside me shot his load, then he held my hips down while the first guy fucked my face until he came. Then they went back and drank some more beer while I pulled myself together.”

Crap. Now I felt like shit. I wish I hadn’t dredged that up.

“Maria, I’m sorry I asked you that. That shouldn’t happen to anyone. That must have been painful, physically and emotionally.”

“It was. But it could have been worse. In fact, I was surprised by my reaction. I stood up and straightened my clothes, and these two guys were standing there, their backs to me, swigging beer, and all I could think about was how angry I was, so I reached down and picked up a rock, and I walked up behind the one who’d fucked me and I kicked him as hard as I could in the nuts. He went down on the ground with this high-pitched scream.

“And the other guy turned with this ’What the hell?’ look on his face and I slammed the rock on the side of his head and he was out like a light. And the two girls looked at me like, ’What’d she do that for?’”

“Good for you, Maria.”

“Yeah, it did make me feel like I had some control. And thank God, I didn’t get pregnant, ’cause I wasn’t on any kind of birth control, and those two idiots didn’t even bother with a condom. But it made me realize that I was vulnerable in a way, that I wasn’t as grown-up as I thought, so I was always more careful later on, and I did go to a clinic and get some birth control.”

I sat down on the bed, and I patted the place next to me. She looked puzzled, but got up and sat down beside me.

“I can’t do this, Maria, this domination-control game. I feel awful now, like I’m one of those jerks who did that to you. I can’t be a part of it, even if it gets you off. I feel like it makes me a part of the same culture that thinks it’s okay to rape women. Even if I’m only pretending.”

She looked quite sad now, like she’d just been told she wouldn’t be able to cum. And in her mind I think she probably did feel like that. She was so used to cumming hard only when she was dominated and humiliated, that she probably thought she was only able to get off that way.

“What are you saying?” she asked.

“I’m saying I can’t do the punisher thing, that I can’t control and abase you, it feels wrong, because it turns you into a kind of sex toy, and you’re not.”

She was quiet for quite a long time, playing with a little friendship ring she had on one finger. Finally, she took a breath and looked at me.

“You’re a nice guy, Sam. I’m a little sad that you can’t do that, mostly because I’m so used to it and I use it as a way to get off, and I’m afraid I won’t, or at least not as hard.”

“I think you’re wrong. You got off pretty good last time when you weren’t restrained.”

“Maybe, I don’t know. So I want to be clear here about what you’re comfortable doing. You said no punishment, no domination, no ordering me around, right?”

“Yes, it just feels wrong to me.”

“What about the restraints?”

I said, astutely, “Huh? You mean like tying you up?”

“Exactly. Would you tie me up if there were no punishment or domination required?”

I had to think about it. I think that my main problem was with the domination and abasement part, not the restraint part.

“Um, I think so, yes, if it didn’t require me to order you around or humiliate you.”

“Okay, that’s a relief, ’cause I think that’s one of the things that turns me on, and if we can still do that it might work out okay. Okay?”

I nodded, still unsure, but we’ll see.

She turned toward me and took my hands in hers. “Sam, part of me’s a little disappointed because I always kind of have this mapped out in my head beforehand, and now it’s different. But I can work with different. But, Sam? I’m really touched that you’d care so much about me being hurt. It shows respect and, y’know, I don’t always get that a lot from guys. So thanks.”

She said, “I’m going to get a glass of water. One for you?” I said yes, and she trotted naked into the kitchen. She came back with one in each hand.

I drank some and felt better. She drank while she looked at me. “So, you got any ideas, Sam? What’s on your mind?”

It was a challenge. She still wanted to be told what to do. Interesting. Even after I’d told her I wasn’t really comfortable with it, she was still pushing to see how far I’d go.

“Okay, Maria. Here’s what I’m thinking. I’m wondering how many times I can make you cum in a given interval, say one hour. When you’re tied up and can’t get away from it, can’t move, can’t fight it, just completely helpless. Can I make you pass out from too many orgasms? Has that ever happened to you?”

Hah! There it was, just a bit of fear in her eye. I didn’t want to overwhelm her, but I wondered what would happen if she couldn’t control her own orgasms.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I’ve never tried. I could see it being too much.”

“Shall we find out? Go find me those handcuffs and some leg restraints, Maria. And show me the toys you’ve got.”

With some visible trepidation she went to the dresser drawer and found the restraints and brought them to the bed. I hooked the handcuffs to the balusters while she went back for the sex toys.

I adjusted the pillows at the top of the bed so she’d have some back support, and found another decorative pillow on the chair. She came back and dumped the pile of sex toys on the bed.

“Those look fun. We’ll have to experiment. Maria, go lie on the pillows against the headboard.”

She wormed her way up and got comfortable. I took one hand and snapped a cuff around it, so her hand was pulled close to the headboard, then I did the other.

“Now lift your butt, please.” She did and I slipped the decorative pillow under it. It raised her butt off the bed, presenting it nicely.

At the bottom of the bed I wrapped a Velcro strap around her ankle and pulled it wide, then secured the other end of the strap on the leg of the bed. When the last strap was attached she looked quite vulnerable, and the tiniest bit fearful.

I picked up the whip which had been tossed aside earlier and swung it a couple of time while she watched, her eyes getting wider. Then I slapped it not very hard on her crotch. She gasped. I walked up closer to the top of the bed, leaned down and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, nipping it with my teeth. She groaned. I flicked the whip onto her pussy again and she gasped.

I kept that up for several minutes until I could hear saying to herself, “Oh, please, oh, please.” I dragged my tongue down her body until I reached her crotch, then spread the lips wide with two fingers and grabbed her clit with my lips and pulled out until it snapped back into place. “Oh, fuck,” she cried.

I did it again, and again, keeping it up until she was getting loud, begging for release. It was only when I licked her clit that she’d cum, right now I was just teasing her mercilessly, and she was hanging on the edge. When she started wailing, “Please, Sam, do it, please!” I gave in and swirled my tongue around her clit. She sucked in her breath and held it, then let it out in a long cry, “God, yessss!” Her hips thrashed and bucked, finally slowing to nothing.

Her eyes were closed and her breathing shallow as she recovered, but I wanted to make a point here, that she didn’t need the submission and degradation to cum hard, so I rubbed her damp pussy with my open hand, occasionally slapping it, making her gasp and say, “No, not yet.” But she was no longer in control and could not make those decisions. So, rub, slap, sometimes hitting her clit, which would make her buck and whimper.

After about five minutes of that I couldn’t read the look on her face. It could either be ’no, too much, stop’, or ’Jesus, don’t tease, get me off’. So I took a chance and hooked two fingers in her pussy. Her programming said ’finger in pussy = series of delightful, small orgasms’, and so she did, crying out, “Oh, yes, like that, baby.” She gasped and trembled, then lay back with a lovely smile.

I pulled my fingers out of her cunt and just rubbed her slick labia, which made her catch her breath. I got up and shifted lower on the bed, between her legs, then leaned in and stuck my tongue in her pussy. Well, as much as I was able; it was a little too flexible to go in far, but it got the desired effect and she thrust her hips at me, trying to get more contact.

I backed off and instead dropped lower, and ran my tongue back and forth across her perineum, apparently very sensitive now because she coughed and said, “Oh, Jesus, Sam, that’s getting me so hot.” So I kept it up for a couple of minutes until my neck was getting a bit stiff, then dropped lower and jabbed at her asshole with my tongue.

“Oh, fuck, baby, yes, here I go!” And off she went, grunting and convulsing, until she went limp. Well, that was interesting. None of my “programming”, as far as I remembered, said anything about cumming with tongue on asshole, only when objects were in it. Was that just her mind saying, ’Tongue on my butthole, close enough to insertion, so cum’, or was that just her getting off because tongues at her asshole turned her on?

Moot point, I suppose. I rubbed her pussy gently with my open hand and she occasionally jumped when something got too sensitive. Above me, she opened her eyes and looked down at me. “I don’t know, Sam, I’m so worn out from cumming, I think I may have to call time out.”

“We’re not even halfway to an hour, Maria. I think you’ve got more in you.”

“I feel helpless, something like despair. No, that’s not the right word, like when you can’t control what’s happening to you and you have no way to stop it, even if it’s too much of a good thing, I don’t know.”

“Give it just a little longer, baby. You have your safe word if it really gets to be too much.”

I knee-walked up the bed until I could lean in and kiss her, just to let her know I was on her side. I pinched her nipple while I did that, and felt her catch her breath.

Moving lower, I again rubbed her wet cunt, which by now was really slick and slippery. I slapped it lightly again, brushing the clit as if by accident which made her gasp, and slipping the tip on my finger into her pussy, again ’by accident’. She was moaning now, “No, no,” but I knew she could do more.

It had been a few minutes since her last one, so I started rubbing her wet pussy, pressing my fingers in. “Oh, Christ, Sam, it’s too...” Then I hooked three fingers into her pussy until I found her G-spot, buffing it rapidly. Her mouth fell open in a large “O”.

I don’t know if it was the programming that said ’fingers in pussy = orgasm’ or just the pressure on her G-spot that got her off. I suspect the latter, since there was nothing small about her orgasm. She was bound, but she thrashed and shouted and begged for divine intervention, until she slowed down to nothing and closed her eyes.

She wouldn’t be able to do anything until she recovered, so I got up and went in to the bathroom and relieved myself. I splashed some water on my face. As I dried my hands and face I looked down and saw that I had the big daddy of erections. I’d been so involved with getting her off, to make my point about orgasms, that I’d put my own in the back of my mind. But there was no ignoring it now, and I’d have to get off pretty soon.

Back in the bedroom, her eyes were still closed. I ran my hands over her body fondling her breasts and squeezing her butt cheeks. I saw some response there, but her eyes were still closed. The clock said there was about fifteen minutes left to the hour.

I was starting to feel a bit desperate myself, but decided to hold off a bit more. I looked down at the bottom of the bed where all the sex toys lay in a pile. I wondered how she used these when she was by herself. There were a couple of butt plugs there.

One of them seemed inordinately large and I couldn’t imagine how she’d get it in. The other was a bit smaller and I remembered it was the one I’d used on her before, that had a little vibrator built in. There were a variety of dildos, too, some like artificial phalluses, others mechanical marvels with vibrators and moving parts all over.

I went back to the dresser drawer and found the lube and opened it as I went to the bed. I poured a bit around her asshole and she jumped, pulled awake. “Wait. What...” I poured a little more on and worked it into her ass with my fingers. “Oh, no, Sam, not yet.”

I pulled out my fingers and spread some lube on the butt plug and her eyes opened wide. “Ohmigod, Sam, I can’t...” I pointed the plug at her ass and looked her in the eye as I pushed slowly but firmly in.

“Nonono, too big, I can’t!” But of course she had, more than once, so I kept pushing and then, with a pop, it slipped in and she groaned. Her ass was moving now, and I suspected she’d be getting off in a moment because of the programming. Just to be safe, I reached down and flicked the little switch and was rewarded with an energetic hum. “Oh, fuck, oh, God, you bastard, I’m cumming!”

It was only a small one, but it made her gasp. I looked down and one of the dildos looked interesting, with a point that seemed to swivel and thrust, and another point that seemed to fit over the clit. I took some lube and spread over the part to be inserted, and found the switch.

Maria still had her eyes closed, recovering from her last orgasm, when I positioned the humming, twisting Rabbit dildo at her pussy and pushed in.

Now it did seem to be too much. She couldn’t even say, “No more!” any more, just guttural grunts and the shaking of her head, wild eyed, and drawing in as much oxygen in gasps as she could get. Her body was thrashing, and I saw one orgasm, a small one, shake her, then another a few moments later. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long, and the more I watched her the more I needed to get off myself.

She was staring at me desperately as her hips thrashed, trying to get away from the stimulation. I looked at her and said, “Baby, I think you’re just about done. I don’t know how many times you’ve cum, but I’ll bet it’s a lot more than you’ve done before. And now, watching you, I’ve got to cum, too. I’ll let you have a couple of more orgasms, while you suck my dick.”

I stood up on the bed, standing astride her chest, and leaned forward. I looked her in the eye and told her, “Swallow my dick, Maria, down deep. Let me feel your tongue, then I’m going to fuck you till I cum.”

She looked almost resigned, knowing she had no control and had to endure until it was over. Her hands were bound, so she had to move her head until she could capture my dick in her mouth and I could slide it in. She stared up at me, almost pleading, as she wrapped her lips around it and moved her tongue.

“Oh, damn, Maria, that’s wonderful. More, baby!” She wasn’t able to move her head much, but she opened her throat and pushed forward as much as she could, then sucked. It made me cry out.

“Fuck, baby, yes, that’s magic. I’m going to fuck your throat now. Can you open up for me?” Again, the desperation in her eyes, but she opened her mouth wide, and I slipped my dick in until I felt the back of her throat, and I pushed. I felt her gag, and pulled back, and she sucked in some air. “Once more, Maria, please, open up.”

This time when I pushed into her throat she closed her lips tight and sucked while her tongue attacked my dick. I was about ready to explode, so I pulled out. I wanted to cum inside her, so she’d get off, too.

I stepped off the bed and found the condoms I’d put on the side table. I got one unwrapped and slid it on, as another small orgasm shook her. She said, quietly, “I’m done, I’m done.”

But she wasn’t, because I needed to fuck her a little more. I was so close now that it would be just a matter of seconds, I thought. I moved down between her legs, where the two vibrators were still humming industriously, and slowly slipped the Rabbit out of her pussy, flicked the switch off, and put it aside.

“Baby, I’ve got to fuck you. I need to be inside you right now.” She couldn’t respond, she was overwhelmed by sensation. Her pussy was wide open and my dick was inside without the least resistance. Her pussy was contracting wildly, still spasming from the series of orgasms, small and large, that she’d had in the past hour.

I couldn’t wait. I was leaning on my arms, pumping my dick into her as fast as I could, no sense of working to a mutual conclusion, just needing to get my nut. Under me, her face was a study in resignation, occasionally replaced briefly with another flash of pleasure washing over her.

Her pussy was gripping me now, more focused than the spasms I’d felt earlier. “Oh, fuck, Maria, what are you doing to me? That’s incredible, yes!” The look in her eye had changed. It was no longer resignation, it was determination. She was in control now and she was showing me who’s boss. I was happy to cede that to her, because it felt amazing.

A few seconds more of that and I was done, my orgasm coming on like a freight train. I shouted something so she’d know, and there it was, washing over me. With my last bit of control, I said, “Cum with me, baby, cum for me.”

I could hear her shouting under me but all I could focus on was my own pleasure, wrapping me tight. Maria’s cunt was still contracting around my dick and it was almost more than I could bear. As my attention returned to my surroundings, I became aware of her gasping under me, saying, “Oh, Jesus, Sam, oh, wow!”

I couldn’t move, and of course she was bound so she couldn’t, either, so we just lay there feeling each other’s bodies and listening to each other breathe.

After some time, I felt myself shrinking and was able to reach down and find the end of the condom and pull out of her. I stumbled off the bed, literally, and made my way to the bathroom, where I flushed it and washed my hands and face.

In the bedroom, she still lay spreadeagled on the bed on her back, eyes closed. I pulled out the butt plug, unfastened the Velcro around her ankles, lay down beside her, and reached up to find the releases on the padded handcuffs. Her arms fell limp, and she didn’t move. I lay on the bed facing her, my eyes closing.

In a few minutes I felt her shift position, then roll into me, her face buried in my chest, her arm around me. Both of us were unconscious within a minute.