The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

October, 2003

“Yes, Desmond, darling, exactly like that!”

The sexy young teacher squirmed in her lover’s arms. He was younger than her, but tall and lithe. He planted kisses on her cheeks and neck. He licked her ears and caressed her bare breasts. Down below his powerful hips thrust his cock deep into her, slowly and smoothly. Despite his blind passion for her, he was always a considerate lover. He paced himself expertly, prolonging her pleasure, while slowly and relentlessly lifting her up, higher and higher, faster and faster, hotter and hotter, toward the climax that waited to consume her.

Veronica Alura opened her eyes. She sighed. She had been daydreaming—again. She was sitting at her desk in the office behind her regular classroom. It was late on a sunny Monday afternoon. Supposedly, she was grading assignments from her senior class. She had stopped halfway through Desmond’s paper. Her imagination had drifted away, as it did so often.

She lifted her head, which had been resting on one elbow. Wow, that was a hot one. Her fantasies were getting steamier all the time. It had been a while since her last lover.

It wasn’t that the young blonde was unattractive. Quite the contrary. Veronica was a hot-blooded, hot-bodied woman. She attracted men like kittens to fresh cream. But the pressures of her busy life as a high-school history teacher had obstructed any real romance.

Instead, she found herself day-dreaming more and more about the male students in her senior class. Desmond was a popular choice. Why not? He certainly was cute. Tall and lanky, he was a high-scoring forward on the basketball team. He was not a particularly gifted student, but confident and composed nonetheless. Certainly he had no difficulty attracting the girls in his classes.

Veronica admitted she had a bit of a thing for handsome young men. It was harmless enough, she reasoned, as long as she confined it to her fantasy life, where it belonged. She sometimes wondered if, subconsciously, this quirk was part of the reason she had gone into teaching in the first place. The seniors were all over eighteen, past the stage of adolescent awkwardness. Most had matured into sweet, affable gentlemen. They were in their physical prime, too.

She sighed again. She straightened, and fluffed out her blonde hair. She could feel her nipples pressing against her brassiere. She wondered if the wetness in her underwear would show through her grey skirt.

Man, was she ever pent up. Let’s face it girl, she told herself, you need to get laid. It was too bad she couldn’t really take a student lover. Of course, making “the beast with two backs” with a studly student would be divine, but it would also be career suicide. The moment word got out she would be scanning the classifieds for jobs at Mall Mart.

She turned her attention back to the paper she was grading. “I’d sell my soul to fuck my students and get away with it,” she muttered.

“That can be arranged,” said a baritone voice.

Veronica looked up, startled. There was a man standing in the doorway to her office. He was handsome in a dark way: black hair, tanned complexion, deep black eyes. He was wearing a sombre black suit and a bowler hat.

“What?” demanded Veronica, annoyed at the intrusion. “Who are you?”

“The name is Phales,” the man responded. “Dreadfully sorry to intrude. I believe I can help you with your dilemma.”

“Dilemma? What dilemma? Who—”

“I understand you situation, you see. Here you are: a lovely, loving young woman, in the prime of your life, with all the normal urges and desires of a sexual human being. Here you are, surrounded by gorgeous young studs, all of them smitten with their sexy history teacher. Why not take a few to bed? Why not let nature follow its benevolent course? You could enjoy such pleasure, know such passion, sail so many romantic seas. But no. You cannot avail yourself of a single apple from this laden tree. Why? Because of nothing more than puritanical and arbitrary social mores. It’s cruel. It’s cruel and it’s unfair.”

“What are you talking about? I’m a teacher! I, I’m not interested in sex with my students!”

He smiled gently. “Of course you are, my dear. You have been fantasizing about it for the past hour. Who can blame you? Why should you be denied the bounty of carnal pleasure the world has to offer?”

“But I—”

“You did offer your soul, I believe, in return for a more liberated approach to your profession?”

“What? My soul! No, wait, I—Oh. That. You heard me.” A realization struck her. “Then you must be . . .” Her voice trailed off in astonishment.

“Not quite. The Dark One does not make house calls. I am one of his earthly servants, a humble demon. He doffed his hat briefly. “Memphis O. Phales, at your service.”

She was looking at his forehead.

Phales chuckled. “You were expecting horns?”

“Well, uhm, yes, frankly.”

“A common misconception. If we are to deal with mortals we must look like mortals. The boss insists. Let me assure you, my dear, in this form I am every bit as human as you. I am fond of chocolate mint ice cream, dark lager, and athletic brunettes. But let us return to the matter of your offer.”

“My offer! But . . . but, I didn’t mean . . . not really . . . I wasn’t serious!”

“Oh? I think perhaps you were. We only respond to serious inquiries, you know. Think about it. Right now you could be sacked for accidentally brushing a hand across a student’s bum. That sort of attitude can be . . . adjusted. With a little help, you could have everything your way.” His deep voice was silky and hypnotic.

He spread his hands. “Imagine it: complete freedom to seduce whomever you want whenever you want. No risk; no consequences; no responsibility. Nothing but delightful, decadent, debauchery. Never mind worrying about your job. Never mind what other people think. With our help you could enjoy half the football team on the Headmaster’s desk without raising an eyebrow. Wouldn’t that be worth . . . something?”

Veronica stared back at him dumbly. The demon’s brief speech had excited her like his tongue was on her vagina. She squirmed in her seat. How could anyone, even who he claimed to be, see so deeply into the dark side of her mind?

She protested weakly. “Yes but, but . . . my soul . . .”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s a formality really. It’s only there to legitimate the contract. Rather like a nominal fee for a legal transaction. Don’t worry about that. Think instead about the delights that await you! All your wildest fantasies come true. Everything going your way. Sex and romance whenever you want—no risk, no danger, no worries—but lots of hot, delicious men, old and young.” He emphasized the last word.

“I, I’m not sure . . . my soul . . .” She was biting her lip, imagining the possibilities.

He smiled becomingly. “No need to decide right away. Why don’t you try it for a few days. We’ll let you take a test drive. Have some fun. Get to know how it feels. Then we can finish the details of the contract.”

“How does this work? Do I get . . . like, three wishes?”

“Of course not. I already know what you want. There is no need to even vocalize. We’ll make you irresistible.”

“Will you change me . . . physically?”

“Ordinarily we might do. But you are quite the luscious nymph already, my dear. All that’s needed is to release your sexual power.”

Veronica was flushed with heat. Possibilities raced through her mind. There were three senior classes in her school. Half the students were male. She was almost painfully aroused. Her panties were soaked. “I . . . I don’t know . . . I . . . how long would this trial run last?”

“A week should be long enough, don’t you think? Let’s say until next Saturday night.”

“But that’s only six days.”

“I don’t work Sundays.”

“Oh. And when would it start?”

He grinned again, flashing rows of perfect white teeth. “It already has.”

“What! What do you mean! How can you have—”

“Will you look at that!” He was looking past her, out the big window of her office to the stately trees around the grounds. A raven was perched on a low branch, looking back at her, black and shiny as hard coal. It was the biggest such bird Veronica had ever seen.

After a moment she turned around again. “Wait a moment, I’m not—”

The room was empty.

Veronica gasped. She turned this way and that. How could he have gone so swiftly? She hadn’t heard him leave. The door was closed.

She shook her head, confused. Where had the man gone? Maybe no one had been here at all? Maybe she had imagined the whole thing. Her fantasies had been getting more and more bold lately; now her lusty imagination had gotten out of hand completely. She let out her breath. Man, I have got to get laid, she told herself.

Someone knocked on the door.

Veronica was startled again. No one was usually here this late in the day, save for a few teachers or the sports teams practising. Was it Phales again? She got up and opened the door.

A student was standing there. Veronica brushed hair back over one ear. “Desmond?” she wondered. “What brings you here?”

“You wanted to see me, Ms. Alura,” he answered.

“I did?”

He looked puzzled. “Well, you said you did. I got this note.” He held out a piece of paper. Veronica took it.

The note said: “Desmond, please come by my office as soon as you can. It’s important.—V. Alura.” The handwriting was hers.

Oh dear. Veronica had no memory of writing that note, nor any idea why she wanted to see Desmond. Maybe it would come to her. This was not a good time to be seeing male students, especially the prime target of her fantasies.

She waved him into the room. “Please come in. Take a seat.” Without really knowing why, she closed the door.

He had taken the old wooden chair beside her desk. She sat down facing him. Look at that face, she thought dreamily: skin as smooth as a ripe peach. “Well, Desmond, how are you coming along this semester? Are your courses going well?”

He shrugged nervously. “Yeah, fine I would say. I don’t do too good in math, but otherwise . . . OK”

“The basketball team is playing well too, aren’t they?”

“Uh, yeah, we are, I suppose. Won our last two games.”

“I saw your last game. You’re a strong player.” She remembered that game clearly. Desmond had been splendid. She had watched him running down the court, lithe and supple like an elongated cat, legs flying, muscled arms glistening, body flexing this way and that and—oh lord she was heating up just thinking about it.

Veronica was suddenly very aware that she was sitting in her office with a male student, with the door closed. Quite unprofessional. Yet the school day was over; the building was deserted. Who would know?

“Ms Alura, what did you want to see me about?” the young man asked.

She shook herself out of her reverie. “Well, the thing is, I wanted to . . . uhm . . .”

She faltered, lost for words. She shifted in her chair. Desmond’s gaze dropped for a moment to admire her pantyhosed legs.

Veronica was a little surprised at the reaction. She had terrific legs, she knew that, but she didn’t dare show them off at school. The suit she was wearing today was serious grey and skimmed the knee. Anything even a few centimetres shorter brought stern reproach from the Headmaster. The man was a fanatic about decorum.

Desmond was still admiring her calves. She crossed her ankles self-consciously. She wanted him to look. He was so cute! And she was alone with him in her office and the school was empty and he was tall and boyish and she was suddenly so horny she felt like whimpering. The lurid fantasies her infernal visitor had planted in her mind were playing out before her like an erotic, big-screen video on endless replay.

She leaned toward him intimately. “I wanted to . . . wanted to tell you how much. . . uhm . . . how much . . . I admire, uhm, your playing . . . skills.”

Her handsome student was staring at her in amazement. He was trying not to notice her chest, straining her white blouse as she leaned forward. He did not succeed.

He swallowed nervously. “Well, like, we . . . the coach that is, uhm, he makes us practice a lot.”

“Yes! Practice! Practice is so very important. You can learn to do anything well if you practice.” Her voice was heavy with desire. She was still leaning toward him. She gazed soulfully into his eyes. Get a hold of yourself! her conscience screamed at her. He’s a student! Are you mad?

She laid a hand on his arm. He was dressed casually in loose jeans and an oversize T-shirt. She felt the sinews in his forearm. “You must practice a lot. You’re in such great . . . condition.”

He watched her hand. “Uhm, Ms. Alura—”

“Veronica.”

“Uh, right, Veronica, I think maybe I should go now, I—”

“Oh, no, don’t go yet! We’re getting to know each other. Listen Desmond, I’ve never told anyone this, but you’re one of my favourite students.”

He grinned, clearly flattered. “I am?”

“Silly boy. Of course you are. Why do you think I go to all the basketball games? To watch you play. You’re so . . . physical on the court.” She began to stroke his arm with the tips of her fingers.

He gulped. She was getting to him. “Uh, thank, thank you. I, uh, like, practice?”

She smiled at his confusion. She stroked his arm warmly. This was all wrong. Everything in her training and upbringing rebelled. She wanted him. He was a fantasy in the flesh, sitting beside her, helpless before the lure of an experienced woman.

She half rose out of her chair. “I was thinking,” she said softly, “that maybe you would like to . . . practice a little, right now. With me.” Without letting go of his arm she crossed the space between them and sank easily into his lap.

He sat up in alarm. “Wha—! Ms Alura! Veronica! You—mmmmmmph!” She silenced him with a kiss. It was long, slow and wet. She held his face in both her hands.

When she let him go he was speechless. She could feel his cock pressing against her leg, already rising. “Did you like that, darling?” she whispered.

He could only nod his head dumbly. “Good. Then let’s practice some more.” She kissed him again, longer this time. He responded as she had hoped. In a few moments they were kissing and necking avidly. Tentatively, he put his arms around her. Lest he miss her intentions, she redirected his hand to her left breast.

His hesitation disappeared. He began to kiss her back hungrily, his teenage hormones clearly in control. His hands began to roam her curvaceous body, fondling, caressing, tugging at her clothes. Her jacket came off. Her blouse came untucked.

Veronica grew impatient. She knew what she wanted. She pulled her lips away from him. She staggered to her feet. He reeled, afraid he had gone too far.

“Stand up,” she cried. “Please.”

He got to his feet. He was a few inches taller than her. She boldly grabbed his belt buckle. She unfastened it swiftly, then tore his zipper down in one stroke. “Oh!” was his only response. A moment later she had his pants down around his knees. She could see his teen-age pole tenting his undershorts.

She groaned hoarsely. “Darling, you’re so big! I, I have to see you!” Before he could respond she was into his shorts. A moment later his member came free. It bobbed before her temptingly. He was very hard. She grabbed him with both hands and began to stroke lovingly. “Oh, Desmond!” she cried.

The helpless student was twitching in her grasp. “Please, Ms. Alura, don’t, don’t do that. Please I, oh god no, OHHHH!” Quite suddenly he was cumming. His cock twitched like a snake. It spat gobs of hot, white jism onto her hand and arm. He came long and hard, while she pumped him dry.

The instant he was finished he began to apologize. “I’m sorry, Veronica, I, I didn’t mean to do that, you know, it just, like happened, I’m sorry—”

She shushed him with two fingers on his lips. “Darling, it’s all right. I wanted you to let go. You came for me. I’m flattered.” She grabbed some tissue and began to clean her hand. She wanted to lick it.

A few minutes later, when they were both dressed again, Veronica bade good-bye to her favourite student. She sent him off with a long kiss, after extracting a promise not to tell anyone about their tryst. He stumbled over his feet as he turned away. Veronica laughed.

Then she noticed the light from under the door of the Headmaster’s office. Maybe everybody hadn’t gone home.

She turned back into her office. She closed the door. Well girl, she told herself, that was insane. If that boy blabs, your career is over. You sacrificed a promising teaching career for a twenty-minute make-out session with a jock.

The full significance of what she had done somehow refused to register. She sank into her chair. Her own arousal was as insistent as ever. She leaned back, rucked her skirt up around her waist, and spread her legs wide. Slipping both hands under her pantyhose, she reflected dreamily on the folly she had committed, until her own marvellous orgasm overtook her.

The following morning, Veronica heaved herself out of bed with a heavy sigh. She had dreamt all night about seducing young men. She was not surprised that her guilt about carrying on with a student had infiltrated her sleep. What she hadn’t expected was that the dreams would be so hot.

In one, she found herself standing at the front of her senior class, pretending to teach in a vaguely defined minidress and skintight, thigh-high boots. As she strutted back and forth in her spike heels, the gaze of every boy, and every girl, in the room was fixed on her. Their eyes were all glassy with lust.

They began to openly play with themselves. One by one the male students exposed themselves and began to stroke with one hand, or two, while gazing at her adoringly. The girls slipped their fingers up under their miniskirts and tickled their lovenests. The classroom was filled with a rising tide of moans and sighs, punctuated by plaintive cries of “Veronica! Veronicaaaaa! Verrrrronnnnnicaaaaaaaa!”

Suddenly the whole class was coming. Veronica was coming too, sitting on her desk with her booted legs wide and her tits bare and heaving. The shouts of the lust-mad, climaxing students rose higher and higher, louder and louder until it became an endless BUZZZZZZZZ

Veronica sat up with a gasp. She was covered in perspiration. One hand was nestled between her legs. She reached over with her free hand and silenced the alarm clock.

She was wide awake now, but still powerfully aroused. The erotic atmosphere of the dream had hardly faded with wakefulness. Sliding on a pair of royal blue slippers, she hurried off to the washroom to finish the job in the shower.

When she returned, wearing nothing but her slippers and drying her hair with a towel, Veronica reflected more soberly. She wondered if Desmond could be trusted not to talk. Men his age liked to boast about sexual conquests. A tryst with a teacher would be a coup. Only Desmond’s discretion was keeping her off the evening news.

She considered her closet. Despite her predicament, she felt bold. To heck with being such a bore. She would wear something flattering for once. If she was going to be sacked, at least she would be well dressed for it.

She pulled on an attractive orange jersey and a black skirt. The hemline landed a few inches north of her knees. She even decided to wear her best heels. The total look, once she added some make-up and earrings, was certainly sexy. She wouldn’t call it unduly provocative. Still, it would probably earn her a reprimand from the Headmaster.

Sure enough, as Veronica was heading toward the teachers’ lounge for coffee after her second class, Mr. Ogilvie called her into his office. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment, Ms. Alura,” he said in his formal manner.

She entered his neat office and took a seat by his desk. She smoothed down the hem of her skirt reflexively.

The Headmaster regarded her thoughtfully. He was a tall, balding, middle-aged man. He wore tweed jackets and wire-rim glasses. He ran the school with the patient precision of a machinist. Veronica watched his eyes flick down to her legs for a moment. She waited for the scolding.

“Ms. Alura,” he said carefully. “I was here after class last night. I saw Desmond Fielding leave your office.”

Veronica’s bowels turned to ice-water. She stared at him, too shocked to speak. So there it was. Less than twenty-four hours after her indiscretion, she was about to be dismissed. A new career as a fast-food server awaited her.

“I spoke with the boy,” the Headmaster said. “He told me you had a long and rather intimate conversation.”

“Mr. Ogilvie, I, I can explain,” Veronica interjected, though she was certain she couldn’t.

He gazed at her sternly. “Ms. Alura, I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you have been able to get through to him.”

What?

He went on: “I have been worried about that boy for months. He has been slipping in his studies. He spends all his time playing that damned basketball. Nothing I could say made any difference. But he told me in glowing terms how much you had inspired him to put in more effort. Apparently he thinks the world of you.”

Veronica tried to think of something to say. “Well, I, I—” she stammered.

“This is an excellent opportunity to build on your rapport. I want you to keep working with this boy. Take him under your wing. Let him know that someone cares about his performance off the basketball court. Can you do that?”

Veronica felt like a condemned prisoner walking away while the executioner took a nap. “You bet I can!” she exclaimed. “I’ll teach him everything I know!”

He actually smiled. “That’s the spirit! Let’s not let a promising young man slip away for lack of direction. I admire your commitment, Ms. Alura.” He was admiring her legs too.

Veronica wandered toward her office in a daze. She had forgotten about coffee. She sat down at her desk. The Headmaster hadn’t mentioned her skirt. He had completely misinterpreted her liaison with Desmond. He had given her carte blanche to seduce her student again. It was all too much to believe.

A flutter of movement outside the window caught her eye. The raven was back, perching on a low branch. It peered at her with dark eyes. It squawked harshly before flapping away.

Veronica watched it go. She was grinning.

Desmond approached her desk after her last class of the day. Veronica was in a good mood. The Headmaster hadn’t noticed her change in style, but the students sure had. It made her feel feminine. She had been acting a bit flirty all day.

Desmond waited until the other students were gone before he approached her. “Ms. Alura, may I talk to you?” he asked diffidently.

She smiled at him. “Of course you can. And I thought I told you to call me Veronica.”

He looked adorable when he was embarrassed. “Oh, uhm, OK, uh, Veronica. I, uhm, I wanted to, like, apologize, for what happened yesterday.”

“Oh? Which part?”

“Uhm, I meant, like, when I, uhm, made a mess, like, on your hand. I didn’t mean—”

“Shhhhh. Listen, Desmond, it’s OK. You got excited and you ejaculated. It’s entirely normal. Especially at your age.”

“I guess so.”

Veronica felt a surge of affection. “Listen, remember what we were saying about basketball? You’re good because you practice. If you want to be good at other things, you have to practice too. Matter of fact—” she looked around furtively—“we could practice a little right now, if you want.”

His eyes lit up. “You mean, like—”

“Come here. Let’s talk about this in my office.”

They stepped into her private office behind the classroom. Veronica turned and slid both arms around her student’s neck. “I think we should start,” she said softly, “with some mouth exercises.” She punctuated her opinion with a long, soulful kiss.

The couple spent a long time there, practising. Desmond was a fast learner. Before long they were both breathing faster. Shortly after that, Veronica found herself seated at her desk, with Desmond leaning against it. His pants were around his ankles. Her slim fingers grasped his hips. His cock was sliding past her lips, long and stiff, in and out, while her tongue danced along the glans. His eyelids fluttered.

Once again Veronica’s conscience flashed alarms. This was insane! The only thing worse than seducing a student was doing it twice. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be giving her happy, horny student a blow job in her back office. She certainly shouldn’t be jacking him with her fingers, or doing that little trick with her tongue, or going faster and faster and hotter and harder because soon Desmond was going to stiffen and groan and loose all control and—Oh! Then she was busy slurping hot cum and her conscience gave up the argument. Hadn’t she promised the Headmaster that she would take care of Desmond?

A few minutes later, Veronica discovered the upside to Desmond’s teenage hair trigger. When they had calmed down a little, she gave him a long kiss good-bye. She discovered to her delight that he was rising again. This response was only accelerated when Veronica struggled out of her clingy top and let Desmond practice adoring her boobs for a while. He embraced that activity with such relish that they quickly decided to practice some more.

This time Veronica wasn’t sitting in front of her desk, but on top. She was sort of half-sitting on the edge of the desk, holding onto Desmond for support as he fucked her with clumsy enthusiasm. Veronica was kissing his face and neck while she whispered words of encouragement and praise.

Desmond’s ram was proportional to his height. He wasn’t at all skilled at sex. He needed practice. Lots of practice.

“Yes, baby, that’s it, now you’re getting it,” Veronica enthused. “Nice and mmmmmm, steady, no need to rush. Oh, you feel good!”

“Man, I, I’ve never had a teacher like you, Veronica!” Desmond gasped, still pumping. “You’re the best!”

“Go deeper now, baby, deeper. Mmmmmm, yes!” She lifted her bare legs and wrapped them around his waist. Her heels and pantyhose were lying on the floor. Her black skirt was rucked up around her waist. She thrust her pelvis forward to meet his urgent strokes.

He wouldn’t last long. Control was not Desmond’s strong point. Veronica wasn’t concerned. She could probably get him up for another round after basketball practice.

Something caught her eye out the window. The raven was back, perched on its usual branch. It eyed her calmly. Veronica puckered her lips in a kiss for the bird. Then she turned her attention back to the delicious screwing her student was giving her. A moment later Desmond groaned loudly and came spastically inside her.

A few minutes after that they were both dressed again. Veronica kissed him at the door and sent him off to his other practice. “You’re the best,” he told her again, before stumbling off in a daze.

Poor boy, Veronica thought smugly, I think he’s falling in love with me. That means he’ll keep giving me lots of that long, hard cock. She liked that idea.

Veronica really liked the prospect of getting laid regularly. In fact, she was a little surprised at how much she wanted it. Her mad affair with Desmond seemed to have released a wellspring of lust inside her whose depth she had not suspected. Maybe she had gone too long in solitary. The idiocy of a liaison with a student concerned her less than it should have. So far, she seemed to be getting away with it. Was this lucky coincidence? Or did her disappearing visitor in the bowler hat really do something?

She had four more days to find out.