The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Socket”

(mc, nc, m/f)

DISCLAIMER:

This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and non-consensual relationships. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.

COMMENTS:

This one’s for all you M-dom fans out there. You know who you are. I apologize to those who prefer the F-dom I have heretofore been writing—rest assured it will continue to be the bulk of my output. I just felt like stretching myself a little, and maybe luring in readers who like different strokes.

As the perceptive will notice, this story is set at the same “Southern California University” as are “New Tunez” and “Arundsen’s Device”.

Socket

Doctor Arzamas sat behind his stained wooden desk and twiddled his thumbs. His most recent undergraduate lab assistant, Rowena, was late again. He had already fully prepared all the equipment, and checked it twice over while he waited for Rowena to turn up. Damn girl. He considered pulling out one of the porno mags he kept in the bottom drawer of the desk, but decided against it. As soon as he did so, she’d undoubtedly come prancing in the laboratory door. With a sigh, he got up to check the equipment a third time.

Arzamas’ lab was in one of the oldest buildings at Southern California University, and although the walls and ceiling showed the effects of years of minor explosions and chemical fires, the equipment currently in the long room was shiny and new. Most of it was custom built to Arzamas’ specifications.

He walked down the length of the room, looking out the bevelled windows that ran down one side. The sun was still high in the summer afternoon sky, but the great fir trees in the courtyard outside kept the windows lightly shaded. Birds fluttered by.

Arzamas reached the far end of the room, and began to check the calibrations of the equipment again. Damned girl. Why couldn’t he ever get any decent lab assistants? He chuckled. Perhaps finding a conscientious assistant with a body as good as Rowena’s was a bit much to ask for.

He heard the door swing open. “Pro-fessor!” she called.

“I’m back here, Rowena.” He imagined her flouncing down the room towards him.

She came around the corner of the machine Arzamas was examining, and smiled at him. He smiled back, but said “You’re late.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I was playing badminton with my sorority, and I totally forgot about lab hours. I’m here now, though—I’ll stay late to make up for it.”

Arzamas smiled. “Well, let’s just get started, and see how long this takes.”

“So, uh, what are we doing tonight?”

“Well, basically, I’ve set up all the equipment to monitor the flow of free radicals in a person’s body, so we’re just going to test it.”

“Okay. What do I have to do?”

“You, my dear, have to sit in that chair over there, like last week. This will take, oh, twenty minutes, and then we can analyze the results.”

“O-kay!” Rowena walked to the reclining seat on the center machine, and sat down facing Dr. Arzamas.

“Let me know what I am supposed to do.”

“Just lie back—the machine will slide you in, a bit, so it can do the reading. This will be a little boring, I confess.”

“No problem.” She leaned back against the back of the seat.

Arzamas pushed a few buttons, and the panel before him lit up. He entered the startup sequence, and with a humming noise, the chair pulled up and back, pulling Rowena into the cavity in the center of the machine. A metal panel slid across the opening in the front of the machine, blocking her face from view. The humming changed pitch, and various readouts began to display themselves on Arzamas’ screen.

He wasn’t watching. He knew exactly what the machines were displaying, and although the data was important, he wasn’t going to use it. His machines were—in particular, the most recent machine, back by his laboratory desk. The machine that he himself had built by hand. The machine that would either fulfil all his fantasies, or would land him in jail.

Arzamas was watching Rowena’s body, as she relaxed on the reclining surface. He chuckled. The metal panel that slid out as one was drawn back into the machine didn’t actually serve any purpose—it was simply there so that Arzamas could ogle whoever was in the machine’s chamber without them knowing.

Rowena was hot. Arzamas had been attracted to the more athletic sort of woman ever since his own, long-ago, undergraduate days, and as he watched her simply sitting there, in sweatshorts and a loose t-shirt with her sorority logo on it, he felt himself getting hard. Her legs—oh, her legs. Smooth, bronze skin on tight curves of muscle. If he had been in a different field, he could have written poetry about her legs for weeks.

Under her shirt were a set of abs that could only belong to a girl with those long, taut legs. Just the slightest hint of reddish-blonde fur on a smoothly undulating brown surface. When she had come in that day in her halter top and bike shorts, Arzamas had damn near had a heart attack.

Of course, what most men focused on were her breasts. Rowena had already appeared in several fashion layouts, because she was one of those tenth of a percent of women who kept their splendid endowments even on a slim, muscular frame. Arzamas licked his lips. It wouldn’t be long now, before he could move around behind her, and cup those heavy, full, ripe breasts in his eager hands.

Arzamas’ trousers were tent-poled. His eyes crept up to her shoulders, with her long, red-gold hair tossed around them. His gaze crept further up, and found-the lowered metal visor of the machine. He shook his head, and realized that he had almost started pushing buttons with his stiffened cock. Ack!

He stepped back from the machine, and willed his erection to go down before the readout was done. Both he and Rowena knew why he had picked her for an assistant, of course, but certain forms had to be maintained. For a little while yet.

Arzamas went through some complex mathematical problems in his head, and when the machine wound down, the visor came up and Rowena’s chair lowered her back out of the machine, the protusion was again safely hidden in the folds of his pants.

“You’re right, professor—that was boring,” said Rowena, as she stepped down onto the floor.

“Sorry, Ms. Michaels, but there it is. Happily, the readings came out perfectly. It will take the computers several hours, however, to create the free radical flow model.”

“Okay. What else do we have tonight?”

“Nothing more exciting, I’m afraid. If you would come and help grade papers from my 100A class, please.”

Rowena sighed, and stretched. Something below Arzamas’ waist jumped in response.

“Sure thing, professor.”

“Er, wonderful. Just come back to my desk with me—I’ve got them piled up there. Just grade the multiple choice; it shouldn’t take more than an hour. I’ll be working on the machine right next to you, if you have any questions.”

The two of them walked to the other end of the room, and the blue books that awaited.

* * *

Arzamas hurried down the corridor, bearing a box loaded with medical supplies. It wasn’t strictly his field, but Dr. Arundsen had been most generous in his assistance when Arzamas approached him, and he was quite proficient at the necessary surgeries now.

As it was late, Arzamas was surprised to see another figure come walking down the corridor towards him. It was Andrea Grey, Arundsen’s assistant. Now there, he thought, as she approached him, is an assistant. Brilliant and with a clock-stopper of a body. Not quite as athletic as I like ‘em, but with those breasts and those deep dark eyes, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed. First things first, though. He moved to the side of the hall to let her pass.

Rather than nod and brush by, however, the woman stopped. Her dark eyes caught his.

“Dr. Arzamas. How nice to see you.”

“Er, Ms. Grey, good evening.”

“I understand that you and my advisor, Dr. Arundsen, were working on something, before he left?”

“Um, yes, that’s right. Not exactly working on something, really. I asked for his help on a project, and he was gracious enough to give it to me.”

“Mmmm. Okay.” She smiled at him, and arched her back into a deep yawn-and-stretch. Arzamas’ eyes fell involuntarily to her breasts, as they swelled in the tight top she was wearing, and then glanced back at her face. She was still smiling, amused.

“Well, if you... need... any more help, I’d be only too willing to give it to you.”

Arzamas’ mouth was dry. “Er, thanks. I do appreciate that. Currently, though, if you’d excuse me...”

“Oh, of course.” She stepped aside. “Have a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you, Ms. Grey. You do the same.” Arzamas felt her eyes on his back as he walked to the stairs. What had that been about? She was definitely flirting with him. He smiled. Well, after he had put Rowena through her paces—in a few months—he might just have to see what Ms. Grey had to offer.

* * *

She had complained about it, but Rowena had come in to the lab that Thursday night anyways.

“Professor, you know that Thursdays are when the houses throw their parties.”

“Yes, my dear, and I am terribly sorry to ask you to miss them this week, but I really do need your help grading these exams before I leave on my trip. It would be unfair to the class were I to be absent for a week, and not have given them back their tests.”

“But Professor Susston gives back tests months late, sometimes.”

“My dear, Susston, though one of our most distinguished faculty, is a professor of medieval literature. I am a professor of biochemistry. There is a difference.”

She had accepted his argument, unhappily, and now it was Thursday night. Oddly enough, Rowena was even on time. A good sign, Arzamas thought.

“Okay,” she said, as she walked in, “where are those tests?”

She was dressed in a black leather skirt, tall, tall heels, and a tight white shirt made of some particularly reflective fabric. Arzamas could not help but stare. She shot him an annoyed look.

“I’m planning on getting these tests graded, and going out. You aren’t going to keep me here until two, are you?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Arzamas replied. I’m going to keep you a lot longer than that, he thought. Fuck, you’re hot.

“Erm, before we get to the tests, though, I would like you to help me with this other machine.”

He could see her struggle with a surly reply, and stifle it.

“Is this another free radical monitor?”

“Er, yes—but I’ve put a television in this one, to keep you entertained.”

She rolled her eyes, put down her handbag, and walked over to the machine. It was similar in construction to the other machines, with a seat which retracted into a central chamber. She turned to face Arzamas at his desk, and sat down.

“Okay. When do you think I can get out of here?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t imagine that the read-out will take more than ten minutes, and the tests should take only an hour or so.”

“So I’ll be finished by ten?”

“Oh, most certainly.”

“Okay, then.” She leaned back into the chair. “Say, why is there a hole in the back of this headrest?”

“Just for comfort. I saw that the flat headrest wasn’t as relaxing.”

“Huh. Well, whenever you’re ready, professor.”

Arzamas took out the remote control, and pushed the largest button on it. The chair tilted back, slowly, then slid back into the machine. The visor came down just enough so that Rowena could watch the monitor on the opposite side of it, without blocking Arzamas’ view of her face—tonight, he wanted to see her. He realized that she had asked him something.

“Er, what did you say, my dear?”

“You put the control panel in a remote?”

“Oh, yes, I did.”

Then the monitor flipped on, and Rowena’s eyes swiveled up to focus on it. The machine began to hum as it too activated.

Arzamas watched as Rowena visibly started to relax. Soon, the content of the television show on the monitor would change entirely to a hypnotic pattern, still replete with the subliminal commands that had begun to grip her mind immediately.

A plexiglass door slid swiftly across the machine entrance, sealing Rowena in. Dr. Arzamas had no intention of subjecting himself to the commands the machines were starting to relay. In the room, it was quiet. In the chamber, the persistent humming overlay hypnotic instructions.

Then, from around the back of the headrest, four arms emerged. Rowena’s face remained slack and placid as they slowly closed together around her head, locking to form a band across her forehead and one across her jaw. She showed no sign of noticing the restraints at all. Her eyes were fixed on the screen.

Behind her head, a small blade slid up through the slot in the back of the headrest. A second later, a small lock of her long red hair fell to the floor, shaved from a square centimeter at the back of her skull.

Other implements moved forward. A small pulse of blood trickled its way down the stainless steel arms of the equipment. Rowena showed no sign of noticing the intrusion.

More blood had oozed slowly down the gleaming arms of the surgical tools. Rowena’s gaze remained locked. From behind her, a long, slim, uneven-surfaced probe was being extended at the end of a waldo arm. It moved smoothly up to the slot in the back of the headrest, where it paused. Then, rotating very slowly, it began to push forward.

Rowena’s face developed a frown. Her brows drew down together, slowly. Behind her head, the arm was forcing the probe in at a snail’s pace. Her lips pursed together. Her eyes stared at the monitor.

Arzamas had pushed back from his desk. He was hard as iron, hard as steel, his eyes fixed on the beautiful girl in the chamber.

With the probe fully inserted, the waldo arm withdrew, empty. The blood-streaked surgical arms also withdrew. One lone arm remained, sealing the wound. Then it too pulled back.

Arzamas watched, keeping himself focused on the procedure, not thinking about its outcome, not allowing himself over the brink. As the last arm withdrew, he pushed another button, and the waldo arm returned, carrying a cable. It inserted the cable into the probe, and turned to lock them together.

Rowena twitched violently. Her head began to vibrate, not much but very quickly. Her muscles twitched, a leg kicking, then a bicep flexing. She still wore the pained expression.

Her twitching slowed, then stopped. The waldo arm disconnected the cable, and withdrew. The straps securing Rowena’s head to the chair unlocked, and slid back into the headrest. The plexiglass door slid open. Inside, the screen blinked off.

Arzamas had walked around to the front of his desk.

“Rowena.”

The girl remained seated.

“Rowena.”

Slowly, her eyes regained focus, and her face smoothed out into a blank look. He tilted her head forward, to look at him.

“Rowena, come out here.”

The girl leaned forward, putting her hands on the seat of the chair. She pushed herself up, and placed her feet on the ground. Her arms fell back to her sides. Then, as she looked at him, she developed a faintly quizzical expression, and began to reach up her right arm to feel the back of her head.

“Stop.” Rowena’s hand froze. Focusing on him, she opened her mouth to speak.

“What....” her voice was very soft. “What have you done to me?”

“Walk out here, Rowena.” She did as he asked, right hand still raised halfway to her head.

Arzamas walked around her. From behind, he could see nothing. He reached out to stroke her hair, and then lifted the bulk of it. Flush with her head was a shiny silver plate, about the size of a half-dollar. In the center, it had a connection very much like a coaxial cable socket, only set back into the rest of the plate.

“Put your hand back down.” The girl complied. Arzamas walked back around in front of her. She now wore a worried look.

“Please.... professor... what is happening?”

“Be calm, my dear. I have simply taken the liberty of turning you into my slave. I plan to fuck your wonderful, wonderful body until, well, for a very fucking long time.”

Her eyes were wide with fright. “Please... no...”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that. As you can probably see, you belong to me quite fully. All those tests I ran on you really allowed me to calibrate your brain rod perfectly.”

“B-B-Brain rod?”

“Yes, that’s that strange feeling in your head. I’ve inserted a device that makes you my slave. Oh, it’s quite permanent. It has taken me years to perfect it—it’s very ingenious, if I do say so myself.”

Rowena wore an expression of slight intensity, as though she were trying to become angry, or scared, or break into tears, but didn’t exactly remember how.

Arzamas sat down on top of his desk. “Well, I’ve shuttered all the windows, and locked the door. Time to put you through your very first paces, I think. Rowena, take off your shirt.”

Her eyes darted down to look at her chest, as her hands moved to her waist, where they pulled at the bottom of the shirt until it slid out of her leather skirt. Then they slowly pulled it up. Arzamas watched, smiling, as her breasts lifted in the shirt, then bounced free below it. It went up, over her head, and then she was holding it in one hand.

Her bra was white, lacy, and was almost overfilled with Rowena’s large brown tits. Arzamas licked his lips.

“Please... professor... don’t...”

“Hush, Rowena. Do not speak unless I ask you to. You may go ahead and drop the shirt.” Rowena complied.

Arzamas smiled. “Now, I had thought about having you fully strip, but that skirt is pretty fucking hot, so I think for my first time I will take you with it still on, rucked up around your waist.” He hopped off the desk, walked around her, came close. The only sound was her light, quick breathing.

Then she moaned, as his broad hands slid under her arms, and up around her breasts, cupping them, kneading them. He whispered in her ear. “Ah- ah- ah... You don’t know how long I’ve been longing to do this.” His hands slid around her breasts, lifting them, feeling their weight.

He stepped back around in front. “Now, my dear, you may take off your bra. Again, her hands raised, moving behind her. Then they stopped. Her head raised.

“No.”

Rowena managed a grim smile of determination. Somehow, she had been able to resist. She braced herself to do so again.

However, Arzamas smiled, and her burst of courage at finding herself not entirely powerless left her in a cold rush.

“My dear, you have quite some strength of will. However, let me show you a little something.” He took the remote control from the desk. There were a number of unlabeled buttons on the black plastic device, and a sliding knob with several settings.

“You see my little lever? This represents how much of your thought processes are running through the brain rod. Currently, it’s at the lowest setting. Were I to slide it all the way up, Rowena would be turned off, and your body would be run entirely by the brain rod. You’d be my own little sex robot. I assure you, we will both find out how much fun that can be.”

“However, I’m interested in fucking you, Rowena, so let’s just slide this up from twenty to, say, forty percent. That should overcome any hesitance you might be able to muster about anything I wish to do to you.”

Rowena watched, agonized, as he slid the knob up another few markings. She felt a strange shift in her vision, but nothing else.

Arzamas put the remote back down on the table. “Now, my dear, why don’t you take off that bra?”

Swiftly, her hands rose again to her back, and she unclasped the bra, and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts swung down, and hung slightly to either side.

Arzamas had seated himself on the desktop again. “Come here. I want to suck on those magnificent tits of yours.”

Rowena stepped smoothly forward, offering him her chest. She was much less worried, now, although she felt that she still would probably not let the professor do this, normally. His hands again cupped her breasts, and he gently squeezed them. His mouth moved to one large nipple, and she gasped slightly as he sucked upon it. Then he moved to the other one. She looked down at the top of his head, uncurious, feeling a bit strange but enjoying the sensations he was causing in her.

He leaned up to gaze into her eyes, still running his thick fingers over her. “Now, my dear, please step back, and take off any panties you might be wearing under that skirt of yours.”

Rowena complied, stepping away from the desk, and leaning to one side to reach under her skirt. It was awkward, but she managed to grip the white cotton underwear, and slide it down over her hips. She lifted each smooth leg in turn, and soon the panties joined the other clothes in their pile.

“Now, I could simply order you to become wet,” Arzamas said, “but that seems rather unchivalrous. So why don’t you sit here, on the desk, and hike up that skirt so I can suck on you a bit?” He once more hopped off the desk.

Rowena returned to the desk, and slid herself up on it. She drew up her legs, exposing her sex entirely to Arzamas’ gaze, and pulled the bottom of her skirt up until it was in many folds under her ass. She cocked her head slightly.

Arzamas reached down with his hand, and started to fondle her. She arched a bit. He ran his fingers over her pubic hair, then down around her labia, stroking the soft folds of skin.

“Ah, I see you keep yourself well trimmed. Excellent. It would be a shame to shave off such a wonderful tint of red-gold. I think I shall have you shave off most of it, but leave a nice patch here,” he tapped her mons,” for show. Now, to dinner.”

He leaned down, putting his hands on the desk on either side, and blew warm air on her pussy. Then he began to lick, in long strokes, from the bottom to the top, and shortly thereafter moved in with his whole mouth, sucking and twirling her parts with his lips and tongue.

Rowena leaned back, spreading her legs farther. Spittle mixed with the first of her juices began to pool under her ass, dampening her skirt. She moaned, enjoying the attentions, and soon was on her way to a delicious orgasm.

Then Arzamas stopped. “Well,” he said, rising, and wiping his mouth, “you certainly have a delicious pussy. Of course, let’s not forget who is the master, here. You get to come when I am feeling generous.” He began to unbuckle his belt. “That was just to get you wet. I hate fucking a dry girl.” His pants dropped to the ground, and he stepped out of them. “Now, it’s not that I didn’t enjoy that. I can eat a wonderful young pussy like yours for hours. But if I don’t take care of this...” He gestured at his cock, which he had had to work his underpants off of, as it was standing almost painfully stiff. “Well, a man of my age is at a certain risk of coronary infarction.”

Clad only in his shirt, Arzamas instructed Rowena to get down from the desk, turn around, and place her hands on top of it. She complied swiftly.

He stepped forward, and ran his hands over her smooth ass. One hand found her asshole, and he wormed a finger in. “Oh yes,” he said, “you are entirely mine. Now, arch your back a bit, that’s good, and spread your legs a bit more. Wonderful.”

He slid his hands to her shoulders, and began to run the head of his cock along her wet cunt. Were he a younger man, Arzamas reflected, he would probably be unable to refrain from shooting right now. But, experience pays off...

Drawing back, he paused at her entrance, and then slowly fed in his cock. She was tight, and warm, and incredibly wet, and every inch of Arzamas was in heaven. Finally, his crotch ground into hers, and he stopped, fully inside her, emitting a deep moan.

A moan echoed by Rowena. His cock felt so good, buried in her, and her vague uneasiness about this whole situation was swept away like cobwebs by the pleasure pulsing out from her cunt. She emitted a soft mewling noise, and pushed back against him.

Arzamas began fucking her in earnest, using long, slow strokes, stopping frequently to keep himself from shooting too early. This was the climax of his life, he thought. Nothing was as good as this. He changed tempo, using shallow strokes, keeping the flare of his cockhead to hit her just inside her entrance, until she was gasping and shaking on him, at which point he shoved himself back all the way in.

Rowena came in a shattering orgasm. She shook violently on the table, crying out incoherently.

Arzamas didn’t stop. Now, he thought, it was his turn. He slowly increased his tempo, fucking the beautiful redhead, her black leather skirt framing her gorgeous ass, her breasts visible on either side of her torso where she had collapsed onto the desk. He was moving forward, about to come...

He pulled his left hand from her shoulder, and flipped her long, beautiful hair over her head, to where it hung in front of her face. Staring at him was the single silver eye he had implanted in the back of her head. The brain rod, ensuring that she was his whenever, wherever, however. Enslaving her. Making her his.

He came hard, shooting jet after jet deep inside her, hands agan clamped spasmatically on her shoulders. Her pussy drew him in, milked him. He bellowed, once, and then collapsed onto her back, gasping.

* * *

Rowena stood before him, again, once more fully clothed, if a bit disshevelled. Her eyes were fixed and glassy looking, gazing over his shoulder at nothing.

He set the remote back down on the desk.

“Rowena, you will return to your sorority, and pack for a week-long trip.”

“Yes, master.”

“Then, you will return here. Be sure that when you pack, you take all your sexiest lingerie, and any sex toys you have.”

“Yes, master.”

“You will not recall exactly why you are doing this, but it will be the most important thing in your life.”

“Yes, master.”

“If anyone questions you, you may tell them that you are going on a trip to Santa Barbara with some friends. Make whatever excuses are necessary to avoid conversation, pack, and return here as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, master.”

The professor looked at her, rigidly at attention, breasts straining against that shiny shirt she had worn. God damn, but life was good.

He picked up the remote again, and hit the “Cover Personality” button. He thought of it as that, though of course, he had not actually labelled any of the buttons on the device.

Rowena blinked, and her posture fell into her normal stance.

“Professor? What’s... what time is it?”

“It’s only nine-thirty, my dear. Everything is fine. You should be very happy.”

Her face brightened. “Oh, yeah, okay. I... I need to go get my stuff, don’t I?”

“Yes, my dear. Please do. I’ll be here.”

She smiled at him, displaying her dazzling white teeth. “I’ll be right back!” She walked to the lab door, blew him a kiss, and exited.

Arzamas leaned back in his chair. Suddenly, he wanted to talk to Arundsen. It would be nice to have someone to gloat to, to discuss this with, and Arundsen had made several comments about his own work that made Arzamas think he might be not unfamiliar with this field himself.

Well, perhaps he’d see where the good doctor had gone. After he got back, of course. For the next week, he already had enough to do. And it came in a tight little red-headed package.

* * *

END

* * *