The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The morning began bizarrely. Lying on her side, Cindy’s eyes opened the split second her alarm clock turned from 7:59 to 8:00. Normally she wasn’t a morning person, slow and late to rise and groggy until she had her coffee and often for hours beyond it. At her job as a copy editor, it was well-known that if you wanted a favor from her, wait to ask until after lunch. Today, however, she immediately sat bolt upright and whipped the covers off in a rush, ignoring the uncomfortable shift in temperature.

Today was the first day she would be… well, whatever it was Eric was going to have her be. He had been cryptic on the subject last night, but she could guess.

She realized that she had no real control over what she was doing, a passenger in her own body, no more in control of it than she was of blinking when dust got in her eye. Her body just knew what needed to be done, and did it. Her morning routine passed almost as if she were watching someone’s first-person recording of their routine on their cell phone. She shed her pajamas and started the shower, brushing her teeth mechanically while the water warmed. In the shower, she watched her hands scrub every nook and cranny. She had always been proud of her long, toned legs, and from the attention to detail she took in shaving them, it seemed likely that Eric admired them as well. She wanted to gasp, or grumble, or something to express her anxiety as she shaved her pubic hair down to a neat little patch. (Being single, after all, she hadn’t had to bother with yard maintenance in quite some time.) Instead, she finished the methodical process and then proceeded to tweaze the few wayward bits of stubble that remained. She supposed she had Eric to thank for her stoicism in not making a sound despite the pain.

The next few hours passed by with her only semi-conscious of it, and what she was conscious of, she was in a state of near disbelief. An appointment with her stylist, a mani-pedi, a makeover (which had to have included more makeup than she had since Cindy had been in middle school trying to prove that even straight-A students could look chic), a trip to a clothing retailer to pick up a few new outfits, and finally a stop by a seedy little sex store on the outskirts of town that ended in more charges to her credit card than she earned in a month. Her skin refused to blush when she walked out of the store wearing one of the purchases, no matter how much she wanted to as she felt the eyes of the store owner on her body. She wore one of her purchases out of the store; the part of her that would have been aghast at what she was wearing was absent. Instead, there was merely a calm contentment that she had done the thing she needed to do.

It was just before noon when she arrived at Eric’s house. She carried her bags of purchases with her up to the house and walked right in without knocking, though that was normal enough. They hung out four or five days a week, after all, and both had keys to the other’s place. She found Eric reclining in the armchair in his living room, watching her evenly as she came in. Cindy set down her bags on a coffee table and stood back up, posture proud and erect.

Suddenly, in that instant, she was in control again.

Eric sat patiently, only slightly smirking, as her hands flew into protective positions. Cindy stood clad in a joke of a fetishized French maid costume, the square neckline so low that a careful eye would see the tops of her nipples exposed. It hugged her tits like a second skin, then after nearly a foot of exposed tummy came the skirt. The straps of her white lace thong poked out atop her exposed hips above it, and then it flared out to near horizontal, leaving her butt almost completely exposed. Fishnet stockings rose most of the way up her long, pale thighs, and finally a pair of glossy black boots with at least a four-inch heel. Later, she would see her makeup was caked on thickly around the eyes, and even with the flesh feast she was offering, the deep red lipstick would captivate the gaze of anyone looking at her with its unspoken promises of a long, wet blowjob.

It wasn’t even the sort of attire a slutty college girl would wear to a party. It was the sort of thing a prostitute would wear when a john bought it for her—and would probably charge him through the nose to see her in it. Cindy’s breasts were not huge; she had always kept to a B-cup, enjoying spilling out of that rather than having her breasts go unnoticed swimming around in a C. Today, in this slutty get-up, they conveyed the image of an under-endowed slut so desperate for attention she’d try anything to get men to leer at her.

Needless to say, her arms were utterly inadequate for the task of preserving modesty.

“You look good. Ready to start your first day?” Even as the tears sprung up, they receded as if by magic—Eric didn’t want her makeup to run, evidently.

“Please don’t do this, Eric. Please—”

But Eric’s impatiently raised hand silenced her without him even needing to reach into her mind. “Now today, we’re starting you off easy. Today, we’re mostly going to just shut that brain of yours down and put a few healthy, pleasing desires in you and let them run the show.”

“So, what, I’m going to be your slutty maid?” She frowned, though with her thick liptstick it looked more like a pout.

He chuckled, sounding almost apologetic, oddly. “No no, nothing quite so cliché; I’ve done the slutty maid thing before, and it can be amusing, even therapeutic watching some rich lady scurry about dusting my house. Honestly, the outfit here was mostly to screw with you—though don’t get me wrong, you’re hot as hell in it. No, for today, you’re actually going to choose your own outfit.”

He looked pointedly at the packages she’d bought that morning, a mix of fetishized costumes and slutty outfits, but she pretended not to see it. “OK, I choose a sweatsuit. And a parka. And a ski mask.” She laughed, only a little laugh, in spite of herself. Somehow, part of her still thought of him as her friend Eric.

“You may need another shopping run, then,” he said with a grin.

“I’d just as soon not leave the house like this again, thanks,” she said cuttingly, shooting him a half-hearted glare as if this were a normal interaction between them. “And hey, before we, um start… are you doing this? Making me feel normal about this?”

Eric’s regarded her gravely. “Not that it matters, but for these next few days, during the times when you feel like Cindy Classic… it’s legit. I might stop you from doing anything that could cause us headaches, but the thoughts and feelings, those are yours.”

She nodded. “Maybe it’s stupid to say this, but… thanks.”

But evidently, his desire for intimate conversation had been expended. “Anyway, are you ready? You look self-conscious as hell—that’ll go away when we get you started.”

“I guess it’s pointless to beg, huh.” Her arms lowered to her sides, defeated.

“Let’s get started.”

Cindy was quickly getting used to the way she lost time when Eric was playing in her brain. It felt like longer this time, but she supposed that only made sense considering that when she came to, she was no longer the same person. Really, she wasn’t a person at all.

Make Eric happy.

The voice wasn’t a voice, not really—it was an instinct. A whole personality, really. It was the voice that said eat when starving; not a command, but just the verbal expression of what obviously must be done. Her friend sat watching her, seeming neither pleased nor displeased—which, for Cindy, was the second-worst way to have him watch her, after displeased. Her purpose was to please him. What was the point of being alive if I’m not doing something to pleasing for him?

That’s a stupid question, Cindy. You should be thinking about what would please him, she chided herself. How can I please him? He is in love with me. He thinks I’m beautiful, sexy. He’s made me his pleasure slave. And it was that easy. Having now considered herself rightly, she began to have some idea how to proceed, and smiled at him.

“What can I do to make you happy, Master?” She knelt in front of him. He would like that, her on her knees before him, subservient. It would tell him she knew she was less than him, that she knew her place, that she knew his greatness. It would reminded him how available she was to give him a blowjob. She thrust out her tits, pushing them together with her arms to deepen the cleavage. She could push just a little harder and they would pop right out of this ridiculous little slutty maid uniform—but first she needed to know what he wanted from her. Maybe he was hungry, or tired, or wanted a foot rub.

Eric tsk tsked at her. “First off, don’t call me Master.”

She smiled, grateful to be given this piece of guidance to help her avoid annoying him. “Of course, Eric.”

His nod of approval silenced her. “Second off, I want you to think for yourself what would make me happy. I don’t have the time and energy to direct every single thing you do—that’s why you have a brain, right?”

She rolled her eyes at how stupid she’d been. “Right! Duh, why else would I still be able to think for myself, if I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of how to please you. You’re so smart.”

“And don’t flatter me. You know me, Cindy; you know I already have an over-inflated sense of self-worth.”

“Right, no flattering.” Stupid girl, she rebuked herself. So, he wanted her to think of ways to please him—and his reminder that she knew him was helpful for this. The old Cindy was no longer even a whisper in her thoughts, but she did have all those useful memories of things Eric liked and disliked. Well, he’d had her buy all those outfits, and said he hadn’t intended her to actually be his maid, so…

She stood back up, and was pleased to note Eric’s eyes watched her with interest. He was curious what she’d do, and she was determined not to fuck it up. “What kind of outfit should I put on for you?”

“I say again—I’m not going to dictate every little thing you do. We’ve been friends for years, Cindy. Surely you’ve picked up some idea of what I like in that time. Don’t panic over it—if you do something that bothers me, I’ll let you know.” He folded his arms across his chest patiently.

“Thank you. I’m still learning how to be your little fuck toy.” She paused just a moment to see if he’d correct her on that, like he had with “Master.” He didn’t. “Gimme just a second. I can do this.”

Cindy began rummaged through the bags, reviewing her options. There was the black leather miniskirt and the red spandex halter top. Very slutty, would show off her legs well. A set of bright red lingerie that would highlight her pale features, with all the fancy garter belts and stockings that pin-up girls wore in old-fashioned smutty pictures. She had a knock-off Hooters uniform with the short-shorts and the top—guys went gaga over those girls, for sure.

Wait! Then she recognized it for the test that it was. Suddenly she recalled a rant he’d gone on about how cheap and degrading the Hooters uniforms were, and how he thought they were sexist. Was it ironic, a man who had remade his best friend into a fuck toy fashioning himself a feminist? It didn’t matter. Having her buy it this morning had been a trick, seeing if she listened to him and remembered his preferences. And the pin-up girl lingerie—he hated old-fashioned, was bothered by how those contraptions made women’s breasts look conical.

She discarded the slutty schoolgirl outfit—too pervy—and the latex body suit—while watching Catwoman (with Rifftrax, of course), how he’d said what a pain it would be to get someone out of that stuff. Careful to make sure she bent at the waist as she reviewed her options, displaying her ass shamelessly while trying to seem as though she was unaware of it, she started to realize the game. Be Cindy, the stupid bitch who’d been too dim to realize what an incredible purpose being Eric’s fuck toy would be—but be the version of Cindy that emphasized his positive memories of her. It was complex, having to walk a fine line of reminding him of the girl he was in love with while still reminding him she wasn’t actually that girl, but a slutty parody of her that it was safe to fuck without annoying emotional attachments.

With that thought in mind, she cried out in triumph when she solved the riddle. “Aha!” She seized the outfit and clutched it to her chest like the precious treasure it was. Now, should I just change here in front of him? No, no, if he wanted to see me naked right off he wouldn’t have mind-controlled me into going to all this trouble. So with a sly grin, she slunk off to the bathroom and changed in a hurry. She even toned down the makeup some to blend better with the new digs. She left the lipstick though. He’d never specifically mentioned wanting her to suck his dick, but… get serious, of course he wanted it.

Her pussy started juicing instantly upon seeing the delighted expression on Eric’s face when she came back into the room—not with sexual arousal, quite, but rather because she knew she might be fucked soon and Eric would want her nice and wet when he did. His eyes took stock of her from head to toe. She’d ditched her shoes altogether, but a pair of white athletic socks went up almost to her knees, decorated with cute pink stripes near the top. After that, it was an acre of creamy thighs, then her round ass tucked neatly into a pair of skimpy, pale blue shorts, not skin-tight but tight enough that it was easy to make out her panty line.

She’d almost donned a semi-see-through tank top, remembering how he’d commented on how he liked little, dark nipples on a girl when they were watching Orange Is The New Black together (and she was in her present state of mind elated to know she possessed), but then she’d flashed back to the time he’d stopped by unexpectedly and caught her in the middle of a work-out. Cindy still recalled how his eyes had kept being drawn to the sports bra she’d been wearing. At the time, it had made her uncomfortable—but also at the time, she had been a stupid useless bitch who had no idea that the whole point of having a sexy body was to have him look at it.

“You remembered.” Now, he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t staring at her chest. He ogled her plainly, and she stood by encouraging it. Thank God he likes my tits. Not that I wouldn’t get a boob job if he wanted me to.

She adopted a runway model’s walk, hips swaying seductively as she approached him. She crossed in front of him, then walked away, luxuriating in the feel of his eyes on her round ass. She’d caught him looking at her butt plenty of times; it was important not to make him hide it any more, or feel conflicted about it. She came back up to him and on impulse settled sideways onto his lap, letting the arms of the chair support her. Her fingers played seductively across his chest.

Cindy was especially pleased she remembered to consider whether Eric would want her to wriggle her butt into his erection. Of course he would. I have the body of the love of his life.

“That day was one of the hardest days of not just immediately making someone fuck me in my whole life.” She knew he was referring to the day he’d first seen her wearing this. “Just knowing I could’ve had you, fucked you right then and there, but stopping myself… You know, I didn’t even go fuck somebody else to blow off steam. Was saving myself or some shit.” He shook his head self-deprecatingly.

She wanted to apologize, but quickly knew she shouldn’t. That was Cindy’s mistake, and Cindy was the one who would need to apologize if she felt sorry for it. It was clear to her that she did not speak for Cindy, his beloved. Her words were that of the easy piece of ass who looked like the love of his life, a toy with which he could act out pent-up fantasies. If she said she was sorry, it would be meaningless—naturally she was sorry, because he had made her so. Besides, apologies should be in actions, not words.

“Well you’re not saving yourself any more.” She kissed along his jaw. “I remember that day, too. I was so embarrassed—you know how self-conscious I was when I was trying to lose my winter weight. Plus, I was all sweaty and out-of-breath…” Eric put a hand on her neck and kissed her harder.

They made out for a few minutes, but he never proceeded beyond putting his hands on her waist and shoulders. He was holding back. “Eric? Do you mind if I do a little working out? I was lazy all weekend and I need to get my heart rate up.” She smiled invitingly. “You can watch, if you want.” That was what he wanted. Before, you denied him permission. Today, you have to let him relive it.

“If you want, Cindy.” But she felt his hard-on twitching with his quickening heartbeat underneath her butt.

She rubbed the crack of her ass slowly against his cock as she slithered down to the floor, beginning by doing some stretches that let her arch her back. When stretching her lower back, she twisted extra hard to give her boobs a little jiggle. That’s it, make sure he knows that every little move is for his benefit. She put one foot on the arm of Eric’s chair to stretch the leg, and he brazenly put his hands on either side of her standing thigh and caressed up towards her pussy. Just like she’d wanted him to.

Ironically, she knew the old Cindy would have been incredibly aroused by the tender gesture—she had loved having her skin touched in foreplay, having a man’s hands touch her somewhere other than just her tits, ass and pussy, since those would invariably receive plenty of attention later. Her stomach, her neck, her arms and legs… she got turned on like crazy when someone took the time to touch her like that. At least, she reflected the old Cindy would have been aroused if she weren’t such a stupid pointless bitch.

The new Cindy was no longer really subject to such feelings though. My arousal doesn’t matter, after all, she considered as she shifted to her other leg, Eric giving the new offering equal attention. If it would make Eric happy to ram his cock up my ass without any lube, then that’s what I’ll give him. If he wants to blow off steam by spanking me for being so cruel yesterday, then all I need to do is try to keep my butt loose so it quivers nice and sexy for him. She imagined just that, thinking how she would take cues from how quickly or slowly he went to gauge whether her reaction was the one that made him happy.

And so went her thoughts as she retrieved her ipod and turned on her workout playlist, selecting Lady Gaga’s Born This Way (to appeal to Eric’s enjoyment of irony.) Not that they were really thoughts—no more so than it was “thinking” to tie her shoes or drink without spilling. It was something her brain now did effortlessly, analyzed each of its words and actions to select the one that would best please Eric. Cindy was not a being of thoughts any more. She was an extension of Eric’s desires. His fuck toy.

She began sweating quickly, the few stray wisps of her hair clinging to her forehead. Lifting her knees, shaking her ass, jiggling her tits, quiet little high-pitched gasps issued along with each breath—they barely made it through the first song when she felt Eric behind her, his painfully erect cock pressed up against her ass, his hands firmly gripping her hips.

Not yet sure Eric wanted her to break her character, she wriggled a little, as if self-conscious in his grasp but with the perk of grinding her ass against him. “Eric, what are you doing? You’re disrupting my workout.”

He smiled at her commitment to staying in character. “Your workout was disrupting my ability to concentrate on anything but your smoking hot body.”

“Oh, whatever, I’m all sweaty and gross.” She giggled.

“I like you sweaty.” His hands slid up her slick stomach to the bottom of her sports bra, making soft contact with the underside of her breasts.

She purred a little. “Well there’s a whole hell of a lot more sweat up there, I promise you that.”

“Prove it.”

Does he want me to just act like a slut? Keep playing hard to get? For a moment there was anxiety until she remembered him saying to just make a decision and go. How lucky she was to have Eric’s permission to risk displeasing him. She settled on feigned indignation, whirling around to face him and breaking contact with him, placing her hands on her hips. “You’re being awfully forward, Eric. I’m a little uncomfortable with this.”

“Shut that pretty little mouth of yours and show me your tits. Now.”

And just like he said, he’ll let me know when I chose wrong. She smiled, knowing the time had come to stop the game and start getting serious about fulfilling her purpose in life. Still, a segue wouldn’t hurt. “Well, I mean, I guess I could…” She added some hesitancy to the process of lifting off her sports bra, but a moment later, for the first time in her life, she stood topless in front of her best friend.

The reaction on Eric’s face, had Cindy the wits left to notice anything in his features except pleasure and displeasure, was a mixture of fascination, lust, resentment, and self-satisfaction. She folded her arms behind her back, hoping both to look shy and to thrust them out a little more—they weren’t large, after all, and without the sports bra she no longer benefitted from cosmetic embellishment. But he just stared, not moving, not touching.

“Do you like them?” She tried to sound hopeful, self-conscious.

“They’re OK.”

OK. Not really praise at all. We can’t have that. “Do you, um, want me to get them bigger? I’m sure I could get a loan for it, or lie to my parents and con some money out of them. I’ll get them as big as you want.”

Eric chuckled; the derision didn’t even register as offensive. She just needed to hear what he wanted so she could do it for him. “No, Cindy. You don’t have the most amazing body I’ve ever seen—your face is pretty, your tits are cute and perky even if they’re a little small, but your legs… that ass… Besides. You’re my Cindy. I want you just like you are, like you’ve always been.”

Uh,oh, dwelling on emotions will make him unhappy. I need him to go back to seeing me as Fuck Toy Cindy. She gave him a smoky look. “But I’m not like I was before, am I? I’m better now, thanks to you. Before, I wouldn’t have been standing here practically naked for you. I wouldn’t be almost drooling at the thought of falling to my knees and sucking you off. I wouldn’t be dripping wet waiting for you to rip these skimpy little shorts off of me and give me the fucking you’ve wanted to give me for so long.”

Before she knew what was happening, Cindy was on the ground, Eric atop her and—per her own suggestion—tearing her flimsy little shorts off at the waistband. They’d been so tight on her butt that the stitching had been straining to hold her in already, and now it just gave altogether. His pants were off in a frenzy, and he slammed his cock in her to the hilt on the first thrust with ease given how soaked her pussy was, supporting himself with a hand on each of her tits.

Cindy shrieked in surprise and ecstacy—the appropriately pleasing reaction—at his rough treatment. After all, it had been a year since she’d last had sex too, before Eric decided to dismiss her husband and try to romance her. Mind-controlled fuck toy or no, the body was wired to want and miss pleasure. Now, thrusting in and out of her cunt, he was finally having her.

The afternoon was lost in a torrent of sex, and Cindy helping Eric recuperate for more sex.

He bent her over the coffee table and fucked her doggy style while she begged him to take her ass, reminding him that she’d never let another man do that, how Marcus had pleaded with over and over until she’d threatened to break up with him. She’d meant it, too—guys had always loved Cindy’s ass, and it had made her defensive, until today. Now, giving her anal virginity to Eric more than made up for all the frustration it had caused her in the past.

He took her to his bedroom and had her ride him, screaming and screaming from how deep his cock went. It wasn’t embellishment—Eric deserved sincerity. He man-handled her tits all the while she bounced on his cock, and she was sure they’d be tender later, the perfect reminders of how they’d brought him pleasure. It would be a comforting reminder whenever she couldn’t be actively pleasing him (he had to sleep after all) that she had once had a purpose.

He took her to the shower, where she got on her knees and took him in her mouth to get him hard again—after three fuckings, it wasn’t easy, and she was pruny by the time he was hard again. But once she had him ready, they relocated to the hot-tub in the back yard where she straddled his lap and gave him a long, loud, casual fuck. At one point she saw one of his neighbors, a pimply teenaged boy, watching over the privacy fence from his second-story bedroom window. She told Eric, and he told her to keep her eye on the ball. She could tell he enjoyed her embarrassment though; the old Cindy had never liked PDAs, much less being seen by a total stranger as she was naked and getting fucked. She made sure to give the kid a good show. No doubt he’d think about her when he jacked off for years to come. She came then, just from thinking about how great it was that she could help Eric feel so generous.

Finally spent for a while, Eric took a nap while Cindy made herself useful tidying up the house, doing some light cleaning and preparing dinner. She selfishly stole a few minutes to call her boss and make up an excuse as to why she hadn’t come in that day. Should I tell him I’m Eric’s personal slut and his needs will come before my employers? They might fire me, which is fine—one less thing to distract her from being pleasing—but maybe Eric will want me to not be financially dependent on him, or want a break from my company, or even want me to embezzle for him. No, better for now to just make up a family emergency.

She dressed herself in a skin-tight t-shirt, braless, and a pair of white denim cutoff short-shorts with the pockets hanging down below the fabric in front and back, making sure at all times that if Eric came into the room, she’d be in a pose that conveyed how sexy she was, how ready to be fucked she was, how committed she was to making sure those two things were always, always true.

After dinner—a spaghetti squash dish she’d made once that Eric had hounded her to make again—they put on a show Eric liked and let it run; Cindy lied down with her head on his lap like she often had. She wriggled her head just enough to get him thinking about it, and soon, he’d lifted up her top and was lightly squeezing and pinching her nipples. Cindy moaned and panted, just like the little slut he’d made her into should. It was objectively arousing, but what was true no longer matter compared to what was desirable.

After a while, she looked up at him and batted her eyelashes innocently. “Eric?”

“Yeah, Cindy?”

“Can I please, pretty please put your cock in my mouth?”

“Eh, I don’t know, hon. We’ve had a lot of fun earlier—even ruthless mind-controllers have limits on their stamina.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything. Just… wouldn’t you like your show better if you could watch it with me, on my knees in front of you, running my lips up and down your cock? Sliding my tongue back and forth on it? My soft hair on your thighs…” She sighed breathily, licking her lips for effect. (She had re-applied the lipstick after they’d eaten.)

Eric just looked down at her for a long moment; he seemed conflicted, though she didn’t know why. Not that it mattered—if a two-hour blowjob would annoy him then she didn’t want to do it. Still, she was relieved when he shrugged a little and mumbled permission.

She shucked her shirt and slid down to her knees, undoing his pants and scooting them down gently. His cock was already rock hard, but she nonetheless took her time. Three episodes of the show passed—and it was an hour-long program when it ran with commercials—and he still hadn’t cum. She’d felt him come close several times, but each time she’d looked up for permission to bring him to climax, he’d shook his head. At long last, he tapped her on the head. His cock still in her sore, tired mouth, she looked up at him questioningly. She thought he seemed pleased that she left his dick in her, so she didn’t pull back from the blowjob.

“Cindy, in a moment I’m going to cum.” YES. Good. Perfect. I have a reason to exist. “Before I do, I want to ask you a few questions. I know you can’t really talk right now, which is fine, so you just blink once for yes, twice for no. Understand?”

Blink.

“Cindy, would you like it if I came in your mouth?”

Blink.

“What if I pulled out and came on your tits?”

Blink.

“What about your face? Have you ever had a guy cum on your face?”

Two questions with different answers! She didn’t know what to do, so she gently shook her head, careful of her teeth. Eric noticed and repeated, slowing. “Have you ever let a guy give you a facial?”

Blink blink.

“Too degrading for you, eh?”

Blink.

“What about me though—would you let me?”

Blink.

“What if I wanted to snap some pictures of it, of your face coated in jizz? That cool?”

Blink.

“And if I wanted to, say, sell those pictures? You’re a pretty girl, Cindy; I could make decent money with those. Mind if I sell pictures of your cum-stained face, make you a porn star?”

Blink blink.

He looked puzzled for a moment before he realized her “no” was permission, not refusal, then smiled and stroked her cheek affectionately. His cock twitched in her mouth—it would be soon. I hope he decides soon where he wants to cum—I’d hate to fuck this up by swallowing when he wants to plaster my face, or taking it on my tits when he wants to shove it in my ass.

“So, say I did that, made you an internet sensation. You cool with it if I send links to your friends? Make it your profile picture online, send it to your boss, that high school teacher of yours who was always checking you out, your pastor…? That OK with you?”

Blink. Without hesitation. His cock twitched, repeatedly—on the brink now. She blinked and again and again, pausing just long enough that it was clear she was silently shrieking YES! YES! YES! And with a shout, he came. Cindy pulled back just as he began, catching some of it in her mouth and the rest splashing out across her face. She pointed his cock downwards a little and pumped it, the final few spurts painting her tits pearlescent and soon oozing down her flat, pale stomach.

In her old life, Cindy had felt like an accomplished person. Honor student, varsity track and cross country, awards and honors enough to make any parent annoy the hell out of their co-workers with bragging. But nothing she had ever done filled her with the raw sense of completeness that filled every corner of her soul in this moment.

And that was when Eric turned her back to normal.

She lost the time again—short enough a span that none of the cum on her face or chest had begun to dry, merely dribbling down where it didn’t just stick. Her mouth still had some in it, too—by reflex she looked for a place to spit, but seeing no nearby trash can, she quickly swallowed it just to resolve the problem.

Eric had put his pants back on in the interim, but was still sitting right in front of her. Her mind was rapidly readjusting, but she was certain he’d not completely returned things to normal because she couldn’t summon the will to wipe off the cum, or to put her shirt back on. That little fucking gutter slut she’d been most of the day would no doubt be thrilled that he was seeing her like this. Still, that girl was gone as if he never was, and the real Cindy was utterly mortified that he could see her like this. That he had made her like this.

“So that’s option one.”

“No!” she screamed—or tried to; her voice came out as merely just a-little-too-loud. “No! Whatever the other options are, they can’t be as bad as that!”

He looked surprised—perhaps even a little hurt? “It was that bad, huh? Tell me about. Be honest.”

She gathered her thoughts—and realizing she was doing so helped her put her finger on it. “I… it’s like I wasn’t a person any more. My brain just completely shut down, like only my autonomic functions were working. Like, you know how you can control your breathing, but only so much, and if you stop focusing on it then it just does it on its own? It was like that. Like pleasing you was something my body just did, normal as breathing.”

“You sure did a good job of it.” She frowned, too humiliated to be kneeling there cum-soaked and half-naked to be angry. And, as frustrating, having spent the whole day fucking and sucking cock, she was still incredibly horny—she’d have thought he was making her that way, but then, she’d believed him when he’d said earlier that her normal moments would be normal. “But was it actually that awful, or do you think it’s that awful in hindsight?”

Cindy considered. “Well, at the time it was fine. I wasn’t like, enjoying myself, but I guess it felt like… I dunno, kind of like that feeling you get when you’ve cleaned the whole house and it took all day but now it looks amazing? Like, it doesn’t feel good; but I felt accomplished.”

He nods. “Right. That was the idea.” In an instant, she felt the block in her mind stopping her from dressing herself and cleaning up disappear, and she hastened to do both, using a paper towel still sitting there from dinner.

Eric continued as she sponged her face and chest off. “If you pick this option, that’ll be your life—you’ll work your hardest to make me happy, and I’ll give you lots of opportunities to do it. You’ll ride by on auto-pilot. You won’t have to be humiliated, or uncomfortable, or unsatisfied, or tired or anxious or bored or anything bad ever again.”

She thought about the things he’d been saying right before he came on her, about how she’d been perfectly content to let him send pornographic pics of her out into the world. Thought about having that kid watch her fuck him, about having strangers leer at her in the sex store that morning. It had been… nothing. What should have been the most mortifying experiences of her life had been no more unpleasant than a cloudy day.

“Either way, no need to decide now. You’ll have more time to think it over. For now, you’ve had a long day, and I promise you, tomorrow will be even longer. Go home, get some rest.” Eric offered her a hand and helped Cindy to her feet.

“You mean, you don’t want me to stay here? Now that I’m your, um fuck toy and all, I just figured…”

Eric shrugged. “We’ll figure out housing issues later, once things are more settled between us.”

It was impossible to tie her shoes without giving him an amazing view of her ass, part of her grateful she could go home in this and not one of the items she’d brought over. Besides, Eric had seen plenty of her bare ass already, so what was one more flaunting of it. “Any clues about what I should expect tomorrow? Another early wakeup, more kinky costumes?”

“Cindy, how much time do you you think you have left with your own thoughts? Do you really want to waste them worrying about things you can’t change?” She sighed resignedly, and Eric showed her to the door. “Good night, Cindy.”

He said it in that same affectionate tone that he always had, and she thought back to his confession of love the day before. She’d had no doubt he was in love with her—or had been, at least. After all, a man who could have had his way with her so easily, however he wanted, would surely have done so much sooner if not for his emotions getting in the way.

No, in his own way, Eric was absolutely, positively in love with her—and that unrequited love had turned him into… this.

Was it too late to change his mind?