The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Under the Influence”

“You know that if I was French, I’d have to kill you right now.”

Josie gasped a little, but Dave just smiled and finished pouring out the wine. “If you were Roman, though, you’d thank me,” he said. “Lots of ancient cultures put things in wine to improve the flavor—herbs, honey, even seawater.” He slid the goblet across to Fiona, and poured another one for Josie.

Fiona grinned playfully. “But that was to disguise the taste of inferior vintages,” she said. “You made this yourself—are you trying to tell us something?”

Josie was right,” Dave said with a chuckle, pouring out a glass for himself. “You do know your stuff. And no, I’m not hiding anything. I just figure that if I’m the one making it, I can do anything I feel like. Oh, that reminds me,” he said, just as Josie took a swig. “It’s a little bit stronger than the stuff you buy in a store. Careful you don’t overdo it—this stuff can go to your head.”

Fiona swirled the wine around in her glass for a long moment, deeply inhaling the aroma, before carefully taking a sip—more out of a desire to savor the taste than out of any worries about getting drunk. “Interesting,” she said, after letting the wine roll across her tongue for a long moment. “It’s sweeter than I’d expected it would be. Almost a dessert wine.”

“It’s got a little bit of honey,” Dave said. “I know, I know, the French.” He put his hands up in mock defensiveness. “I wanted to make sure it had the right flavor profile—the herbs are kind of strong-tasting on their own, and I didn’t want them to overwhelm the taste of the wine. Like Mary Poppins said, a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.”

Fiona took another drink. She shouldn’t be enjoying needling Josie’s friend so much, but it had been a long time since she’d talked to a fellow oenophile, especially one with a sense of humor. Most of her conversations about wine were with her customers, and she considered it a good omen if they didn’t ask for a nice chablis to go with their steak. When Josie mentioned that she had a friend who wanted them to try some homemade wine, Fiona felt a little bit like a parent having a night out without the kids.

She swished the wine around in her mouth a little, trying to pick up some of that herbal flavor that Dave talked about. It was definitely subtle—a slight hint of bitterness that cut across the acid notes of the wine as it attacked the tongue, mellowing slightly as she held it in her mouth for a long moment before swallowing. She understood perfectly why Dave thought the honey was necessary; without that sweetness, the bitterness of the herbs combined with the bitter finish of the wine would probably have left her setting it down without finishing it. As it was, she found it quite easy to drink.

So did Josie, she noticed. Her friend had already finished three-quarters of the glass and was taking another drink. Not exactly wine-tasting etiquette, but Dave seemed like he was just happy they were enjoying it. She saw him looking at her expectantly and smiled. “It’s very good,” she said. “The evolution is interesting—I thought I detected some notes of blackberry in there.”

“You have good taste,” Dave said with a broad smile. “Both literally and figuratively. I actually used blackberries as well as grapes. I tinker a lot with the recipe. I guess I’m sort of a mad scientist of wine.”

“Evolution?” Josie leaned forward, tapping her empty glass meaningfully. “Like, wine that turns into a Pokemon or something?”

Dave poured her another glass. Obviously Josie wasn’t worried about the drink going to her head. Then again, she could walk home. “No—well, not unless I really screwed something up in the recipe. ‘Evolution’ is one of those technical wine terms. Would you like to explain?”

Fiona held up her glass. “Certainly,” she said, in tones of mock pomposity. “After all, I am a professional. There are three phases to the tasting of a fine wine. First, the attack.” She took a swig of the wine, slightly larger than she intended to.

After swallowing, she continued. “The attack is the initial hit of flavor—how does the wine burst onto your tongue? What kind of an impression does it make?”

Josie took her own swig, even bigger than Fiona’s. “Does ‘yummy’ count?”

Dave and Fiona both laughed. “Probably not for a formal wine tasting,” Dave said, “but for purposes of hanging out with friends it’s just fine.”

“Then,” Fiona continued, once the laughter had subsided a little, “you have the evolution.” She took another swallow, this time holding the wine in her mouth for a moment. “That’s where you let the wine sort of hang out in your mouth for a little while, so that you can pick up on the flavors that take a bit for you to notice. Like, did you get that herbal flavor Dave talked about? Or that fruity taste? Or the honey? That all comes out in the evolution.”

Fiona looked down at her glass. There was significantly less than she imagined. It was the honey, she decided. It concealed the bitter notes so well that you didn’t even notice how much you were drinking. “Um,” she blinked a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Then you have the finish. That’s a fancy name for the aftertaste.” She drained the last of her glass, licking her lips to catch the last few drops. “You get that nice bittersweet flavor on the back of your throat? That’s the finish. It’s what you’re going to taste for a little while, so it’s important to make it good.”

Dave leaned over and tipped another measure of wine into her cup. “Of course,” he said, “if this were a formal wine tasting, I’d only be giving you a little bit in your glass. Also, the glasses probably wouldn’t be collectible Flintstone cups.”

Fiona nodded, taking another drink. “He’s right. We use ‘Star Wars’ cups at our tastings. For that note of elegance and class.”

Josie laughed a little harder than the joke warranted. “Also, don’t you spit out the wine at wine tastings? So you don’t get drunk?”

Fiona grimaced. “Don’t remind me,” she said, taking another swig of her drink. “I always feel like it’s an abominable waste of a perfectly good vintage.” The herbal taste seemed to get stronger as she had more of the wine, as though it stayed longer on the tongue than the rest of it. She didn’t mind, though—now that she’d gotten used to it, she found that she almost preferred it to the wine and honey flavors. It was maybe a licorice, or an aniseed...she mentally shrugged. She didn’t know nearly as much about herbs as she did wine.

“Absolutely,” Dave said, topping up Josie’s glass. “Wine is made to be drunk, not to be spit out like tobacco juice. Which reminds me, another thing that went in this was—” He stopped when he saw the look on Fiona’s face. “Kidding! Kidding! Please don’t hurt me.”

Fiona giggled. “I would never hurt a mad scientist of wine,” she said. “Who knows, you might sic a Grapenstein on me.” She giggled even harder at the mental image, rocking forward so hard that she almost spilled her drink. If it hadn’t been almost empty, she probably would have.

“Uh-oh,” Dave said, gently easing the glass out of her hand. “I think that wine might have gone to your head after all.”

Fiona tried to sit back up, but she overbalanced slightly and wound up leaning hard into the couch cushions. She tried to sit up straight again, but her body seemed to have found the perfect position and it didn’t want to move at all. “I think you might be right,” she said loosely as she slumped like a rag doll.

Beside her, Josie sank down into a similar boneless pose, her shoulder leaning into Fiona’s as she sagged limply. The glass slipped from her fingers and fell onto the floor before Dave could catch it, and Josie muttered, “Sorry,” but without any real conviction.

“No worries,” Dave said, scooping it up and putting it on the table. “It was empty anyway. There’s nothing you need to worry about right now, either one of you. Just relax and enjoy the way you’re feeling right now.”

Fiona closed her eyes in what was intended to be a blink but turned into a long, sleepy struggle with her own eyelids. She finally forced them back open and lifted her wobbly head to stare at Dave. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said in a tone of offended dignity. “I mean, I know Josie’s a lightweight, but I’m a professional...um...wine person. I haven’t gotten drunk from,” she looked down and counted on her fingers. It took a surprising amount of effort. “Two glasses of wine in years!”

Dave smiled. He had a nice smile. “I’m a mad scientist of wine, remember?”

Fiona nodded. Somewhere on the backstroke, her head fell back into the cushions again and wouldn’t get up. “Oh. Right,” she said. She thought about saying something more, but her train of thought wouldn’t leave the station.

“It’s okay,” Dave said. “Just relax and enjoy it. How do you feel right now?”

Josie giggled sleepily. “Nice,” she drawled out, her vowel sounds extending into a drowsy purr. Fiona let out a murmur of agreement—she felt drowsy, but not the kind of drowsy that led to sleep. It was more like the kind of warm, lazy contentment you felt when you woke up on a Saturday morning, where the blanket was soft and your body didn’t want to move an inch and all you felt like doing was lying in bed until noon. Fiona felt like she never wanted it to end.

“Just let yourself feel that,” Dave whispered. “Just relax into the sensation, let it carry you along. Let it evolve.”

That made a weird kind of sense, Fiona realized. That first rush of relaxation that knocked her flat on her ass, that was the attack. Now that she was resting comfortably and paying attention to her body, she could detect other sensations. There was a distinct note of warmth, almost a sensual heat. She could feel a sort of languorous weight to her body, as though her sudden awareness of her arousal made her feel strangely heavy. Her breasts felt more present, suddenly.

“That’s right,” Dave said. Fiona suddenly realized she’d been talking out loud. “What else do you feel?”

“I feel wet,” Fiona said, her voice sounding like cheerful babble in her ears. “I’m definitely feeling a lot of heat between my thighs, a real concentration of sensation there. My clit is sort of throbbing, but it’s a nice throb, like my heartbeat is stroking me. I’m definitely tingling.”

“I’m getting that too,” Josie said, with the same tone of loose and pleasant stream of consciousness. “My tits are feeling very tight. My nipples are gathering together, they’re very hard now, and I’m definitely imagining pinching them. It’s really hard to think about anything but sex right now.”

“Do you think you can move enough to do anything about that?” Dave asked, his voice a picture of concern.

Fiona waved her arm through the air lazily. It seemed to glide along on its own for long periods, but eventually she got it under control enough to press up against her crotch. Her hips didn’t want to move very much, but she settled into a slow, grinding motion that felt very satisfying. “Oh, that’s nice,” she whimpered. “Josie, do you get that same slippery feeling in your pussy?”

“Absolutely,” Josie replied. “It’s so slick and wet down there, I can feel it soaking my panties. I usually get about two fingers inside me when I masturbate, but I feel like I can probably slip in three without any effort.” Josie had never discussed her self-pleasuring techniques with Fiona before, but the conversation felt perfectly natural right now. Sexual inhibitions seemed like something that happened to other people.

Fiona wriggled her hand inside the waistband of her pants and slid her fingers along her slit. “Do you use your thumb or your palm on your clit?” she asked Josie, petting her pussy and enjoying the sensation of her hand trapped up against her mound by the tight crotch of her jeans. “Because I used to use my palm, just grind it on down and get that nice pressure, but now I like to flick it with my thumb more.” She didn’t even know if her words were making any sense; it didn’t seem to matter. Everything felt so good now, and telling Josie how hot and sexy her body was feeling only seemed to intensify the pleasure. She didn’t think she could stop talking if she tried.

“I don’t know if I mentioned this earlier,” Dave said, “but I do have a few other hobbies besides wine making.” He opened a drawer in the coffee table, and pulled out two thick glass dildos. “I’m also an amateur glassblower.”

Fiona smiled, her eyes focusing on the gleaming light streaming through the dildo with glazed fascination. “They’re so beautiful,” she heard herself say, her voice filled with quiet awe. “They’re absolutely...beautiful.”

“Here,” Dave said. “Would you like to try?” He leaned over and helped undo Fiona’s jeans, then pressed the glass rod into her hand as she wriggled her pants and panties down to her knees. A moment later, he did the same for Josie.

“Oh, that’s so nice,” Fiona whimpered, sliding the smooth glass into her slippery cunt. “Josie, are you getting that same little nub at the base? Hitting you right in the clit?”

“Uh-huh,” Josie moaned. “It’s definitely shaped just right for my pussy. Normally when I use a toy I like something with a little buzz, but this is so thick that I don’t even mind. I’m feeling, not stretched, but definitely tight inside. I can’t stop fucking myself, Fi. I really don’t think I can ever stop fucking myself.”

Fiona smiled loosely, all her thoughts dribbling out between her thighs. “Me neither,” she said, unable to stop herself from babbling out her pleasure. “My pussy’s so wet, every time the dildo comes out it’s all slick and shiny and I just love fucking it. I’m fucking myself so hard now, I’ve got my other hand working my clit and I think I might cum soon, I really think I want to cum, I just feel so fucking horny right now, so fucking, so hot, I fuck, I oh oh fuck oh fuck...”

“uh-huh oh fuck yes fuck me oh god oh...” Fiona felt Josie’s body shiver where it rested against hers, almost like she was transmitting her orgasm into Fiona through touch. Fiona heard her words slowly slur into moans, her moans melt into screams, her screams of pleasure blend in with Josie’s until the two of them were feeding off each other’s ecstasy and her orgasm triggered Josie’s orgasm and Josie’s orgasm triggered her orgasm and they couldn’t stop cumming and they couldn’t stop making each other cum and they just couldn’t fucking stop anymore...

She had no idea how long it all lasted. She came down from her multiple orgasm even dizzier and drowsier than before, the afterglow mingling with the pleasure and the soft, sleepy warmth to leave her feeling pleasantly docile. She felt like she could rest up against Josie like a lazy, limp rag doll forever and just listen to Dave talk.

“That’s right,” he said. “Feeling so perfect now, so relaxed and open, so ready to take in everything I’m saying. Just enjoying that perfect finish, lingering all over and making you so very eager to drink in those sensations all over again.”

Fiona smiled, her pussy twitching slightly around the dildo in an aftershock of pleasure as she imagined falling into those wine-dark depths once more.

THE END