The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I.

Melissa Banks was never quite sure why she’d taken the class in the first place, not that she thought about it much. It’s not like it was unheard of for a math major to take an upper level Theology course offered to graduate students, but it was unusual. She should be taking upper level math classes, or, failing that, classes that were at least simple enough that she could spend most of her time focused on grad school applications. Yet somehow she’d taken this instead.

Maybe it was the little religious crisis she’d had just before sign up, or maybe it was the fact that this class was something different. Who knew? But “The Theology and Philosophy of John Bustopher” had interested her. There was something about the idea of taking a class on an obscure and radical philosopher who had only just died recently intrigued her.

The fact that the class was taught Dr. Hampton wasn’t a deterrent either. Brilliant and icily handsome, Edward Hampton ruled his classer like an emperor. Melissa had been terrified to creep into Professor Hampton’s office and ask if she could take the class.

Upon entering Professor Hampton’s office, Melissa had found herself intimidated by his looks almost as much as authority. To short, busty, Melissa, Professor Dagenfield seemed like a giant at a 6′3″

He had focused his cold blue eyes on Melissa for a moment before he spoke.

“Melissa Banks. You’ve never taken one of my classes before and this is an exceedingly difficult topic, but I’ve heard nice things about you from my colleagues in the math department. Believe me, I asked.”

“Good,” Melissa had said.

Professor Hampton’s voice softened just a shade. “Welcome aboard.”

It had been, in some odd way, one of the more gratifying moments in Melissa’s life. Melissa had been very pleased at first, but as she stood in the doorway on the first day, looking at the two other undergrads brave enough to take the class, her courage had faltered just a bit.

Melissa was even more disappointed to see that Meg Parkes was in the class. Meg, a beautiful, but serious theology major who had been all over the world and was Melissa’s chief competition for senior Graduation speaker. But Meg wasn’t thinking about that now. She was nervously paging through her copy of Bustopher’s book, “Systems of Philosophy.”

The only other underclassmen in the class were a guy named Josh Dean that had been in Melissa’s freshman comp class. Melissa remembered that Josh had been cute then, but now he was slightly overweight with shaggy brown hair and a beard. At least the men in this class wouldn’t distract her. Three female graduate students made up the rest of the group.

Melissa walked in and sat down and almost immediately knocked a book off of her desk. It hit the floor with a thud. Meg and Josh looked up at her and smiled.

“I’m pretty nervous,” Melissa stammered.

“We’re all nervous.” Josh replied.

Meg let out a giggle. “Hampton’s really smart, but his classes are such a bitch!”

“I’ve read some Bustopher before. He’s not the easiest philosopher to understand,” Josh put in.

“Really?” Melissa said, her voice almost a whimper.

“Difficult, yes, but never boring” Snapped a voice from the doorway. The three of them turned to face Edward Hampton.

“He had a pretty crazy personal life, as I remember” Josh supplied cheerfully.

“Oh yes,” Professor Hampton said. “For one thing, he had romantic relations about every female grad student in his department, and most of the lady professors. Those who knew him said that his power over other people, especially women, seemed almost magical.”

“He must have been very charismatic to seduce all those women.” Meg put in.

“You wouldn’t expect that sort of thing from a man who studied religion, would you?” Melissa asked.

“Au contraire, my mathematician friend!” Josh said.

“There have been many theologians who were quite promiscuous.”

“WitnessSt. Augustine” Meg put in.

“Oh.”

“Be fruitful and multiply is a fairly powerful scriptural passage.” Professor Hampton observed. They opened their books.

Far away, someone smiled.

II.

The night before her Wednesday Bustopher class, Melissa was hard at work trying to grasp what Bustopher had written. But it was all so difficult. Especially since, for some reason or another, she was terrifically horny. It made it hard to pay attention.

She stood and took off the boxer shorts she wore to sleep in. It was time to get some relief. Melissa sat back down, holding the book in one hand with the other between her legs. That was better. For a few more minutes, she was able to concentrate, but soon she found her mind wandering again.

Idly, Melissa flipped the book over. John Bustopher’s picture stared out at her. He wasn’t a bad looking man. Not at all.

Melissa’s eyes fluttered shut.

Wouldn’t it have been great to be one of his grad students? Stopping by his office to report on her research, and somehow finding his hand on her knee.

Of course, he done his most famous work in the fifties, so she would be wearing stockings. Yes. Stockings were so great. Maybe she should start wearing stockings now.

Then Bustopher would lean in close, as if to emphasize an important point and somehow his lips would end up on hers and his tongue would end up in her mouth. It would feel so good. His hands would open her blouse fingers gently toying with each button. He lowered his lips to her neck, then took a nipple in his teeth and gently pulled.

“Oh...” She cried, slowly lowering the zipper on her skirt...

Melissa woke up the next morning completely naked.

Odd. She didn’t usually sleep naked. Oh well. She quickly dressed, grabbing her book from off of the bedside table. She paused and looked at what she’d been reading the night before. It all looked so clear now.

Bustopher was in many was as much a Romantic Philosopher as a theologian. Even he had called his work a “creative interpretation of existence.” The whole outlook was pretty existentialist.

She was halfway to class before she realized she’d forgotten her bra.

Oh well...

III.

By Friday’s class, Melissa was ready. She’d studied for an hour the night before, not counting the masturbation session that had put her to sleep. She’d had some wonderful dream about giving oral sex to one of her professors, she couldn’t remember which one, and was it his wife? Whatever... And she was wearing her new garter belt. Maybe, if Professor Hampton told any more racy stories about Bustopher, she would flash Josh.

Funny how she hadn’t realized before how cute Josh was until she started taking the class. She found something about the way he eyed Professor Heidi’s long slender legs endearing. Melissa envied Heidi’s legs, especially since Heidi wore mini skirts all the time this semester. Come to think of it, so did Meg. They must really be in fashion.

Professor Hampton didn’t tell any racy stories about Bustopher that day. But Melissa flashed Josh anyway. That was fine. After all, Meg did it too.

Far away, someone giggled.

IV.

Melissa had tried to study, but it just hadn’t worked. Her study sessions were getting shorter, yet somehow, she always felt like she understood her Bustopher better the morning after she’d gone to sleep with her hand on her pussy.

Of course, that was every night these days.

Her fantasies had been getting stranger and stranger of late, not that she really minded. Tonight, she imagined two muscular men wearing half masks marched her down the nave of church. She was naked under her long white robe. She knelt at the altar in front of a man in a long black robe and a mask. Something about his strong, powerful presence made Melissa’s pussy itch.

He pointed at the altar next to him and Melissa felt the rising warmth in her pussy as the two men lifted her roughly and placed her on the altar. They tore off her robe and she lay there for a moment, lustfully savoring her nudity in front of the men. The high priest threw his own robe onto the ground. His body looked old, but well muscled. And his cock was the biggest she’d ever seen.

It almost hurt as he shoved it into her. Almost. She let out a scream of animal yearning. The environment could have been a cheap motel, the backseat of a Ford or anywhere. She suddenly didn’t care as she felt that big cock in her pussy. All she cared about was that she was getting it hard and deep. She certainly was. Thank God for that.

She lolled her head to one side and looked out into the church. She was a bit surprised to see that there was a congregation. Naked men, who were standing and forming a line. They were waiting for her. They would take turns.

She threw her head back, letting out a wanton moan as she came again. She reached forward, grasping at anything. Her fingers clutched the only thing she could reach. When she tugged at the Priest’s mask, it came off. That was funny. He looked a lot like...

The vision faded.

The next morning, Melissa awoke to discover that she fully understood Bustopher’s thesis that there was a big difference between minor sexual sins and the deep-seated estrangement from God that made real sin. Little sexual sins were no big deal at all. The odd thing was, she didn’t remember reading that section at all.

She also didn’t remember having slept naked that night, with her legs spread open as if to accommodate an imaginary cock.

V.

Melissa had put off getting the last book she needed to read for the class, and now it was costing her a walk across town. Meg and Josh were still using theirs, but luckily one of the grad students had said she could borrow a copy from her.

Of course, going to Claire’s was a two mile walk through the city, but Melissa didn’t mind. It gave her lots of chances to show off her stocking tops to appreciative construction workers. Melissa loved attention.

She got plenty in her tank top and miniskirt. So many pairs of eyes on her all the time. Her masturbation session that night would be long and fruitful. She was sure she’d wake up the next morning with nipples sore from her squeezing and playing.

She was even more sure when she got to Claire’s apartment.

The moans and sighs clearly audible through the door sounded like Melissa had picked a bad time to stop by. Curious, Melissa peeked through the window into Claire’s apartment.

It was indeed a very bad time. Claire was on her back on the couch, with Heidi, another grad student, lapping away at Claire’s cunt.

Melissa felt her pussy get damp and reached down to play with it as she watched. Claire was playing with her own nipples and making happy moans as Heidi worked. Claire stiffened and cried out as she had what looked like a powerful orgasm. Heidi looked up and Claire lowered her lips to Heidi’s, kissing her as she slid her tongue into Heidi’s mouth.

Melissa realized she was staring into Claire’s window with one hand on her pussy and the other playing with her breasts.

She sure was acting strangely these days.

Oh well. She smoothed out her tank top and skirt, and wrote Claire a note.

As she walked back to the dorm, she wondered what might happen when Claire dropped the book off.

VI.

It was Friday night. Normally, Melissa would have been in her room, waiting for a call from Tom, her boyfriend at home. But Josh, from her Bustopher class, was throwing a party at his apartment. She was sick of the dorms, and she was sick of Tom. So she’d decided to go.

Melissa had dressed unusually nicely in a black miniskirt and a soft white blouse. And, of course, the thigh highs that she wore all the time now.

“Hey, Melissa, you look hot!” Josh said when she walked in the door.

She’d felt a little rush of pleasure. Josh was so sexy.

“You don’t look so bad yourself!” She’d said, sliding her had around his waist to grab his butt. She and Josh and Meg had gotten to where they touched each other all the time. Grabbing Josh’s butt at a party was a logical extension of that.

“Here, have one of these. I’ve got to go check on the punch, but I’ll catch up with you later, ok?”

“Sure” Melissa said, accepting a glass of something purple. She drank it fast, then watched Josh’s butt as he walked away. He was so hot. All the guys at the party were hot. But Josh was the best one of all.

Meg was pretty smashed. She looked like she’d been at the party for quite awhile. When she caught sight of Melissa, she walked right up to her and kissed her on the lips. As if by instinct, Melissa opened her mouth slightly to allow Meg’s tongue to slip in. Melissa had never been kissed by another girl before, but it sure felt good. The two co-eds melted into each other’s arms until they realized that the other guests at the party were whooping and cheering.

Meg pulled away.

“Been studying much Bustopher?” Melissa moaned softly.

“Lucky I’ve already gotten into seminary,” Meg said, “It’s all I ever study anymore...”

“Me too. You’re not worried about the test, are you?”

“Nope. I think I’ve been picking it up pretty quickly.”

“It’s so complicated, but I’m totally getting it. I don’t understand, but I’m certainly not complaining.”

Meg gave Melissa’s breast an affectionate squeeze.

“I should go. There’s a grad student over there and I’d like to hook up with him. I think I’m starting to be attracted to older, umm, men.”

Melissa leaned up to kiss her goodbye. After Meg went off to chase her grad student, Melissa realized that anyone else in the room except for Josh would have thought it a bit strange that they’d discussed theology class at a party, after making out with each other. But for the three of them, theology and lust were quite strongly linked. She wondered why that was...

The sight of Meg on the dance floor distracted Melissa. The grad student’s hand was all the way up Meg’s skirt. Melissa sighed enviously. Meg was so sexy. Of course she got the one older man at the party.

She felt a hand on her behind and turned to find Josh standing behind her. She greeted him with an open mouth kiss. It was so great that everyone from Bustopher class was so bonded.

“You having fun?” He finally managed.

“Yeah. This party is wilder than the ones I’m used to, but I’m having a blast.”

“That’s great. I’m glad I invited you.” He raised his glass. “To John Bustopher.”

They clinked glasses.

“Bustopher would have been so proud of us, out drinking and carousing.” Melissa said with a giggle.

“He’d be prouder of us if we went to bed together.”

There was silence between them as his words sunk in. He opened his mouth, as if to apologize, but before he could, Melissa leaned forward and put her lips on his. He grabbed her ass and pulled her toward him, mashing her miniskirt against the lump in his jeans. Melissa let out an involuntary moan. She wanted Josh so much that she could feel her desire as a throbbing need deep in her cunt. She forced her tongue down his throat as he reached under her miniskirt to play with her clitoris.

Something about what she was doing seemed wrong. “Josh,”

“Yeah?” He replied as he shoved a finger deep into her pussy.

“Unnnnghhhh... Oh... Let’s, please, oh, go to your room...”

“Oh, okay.”

When Josh took his finger out of her cunt, Melissa was momentarily sorry she’d said anything, but people were starting to stare. She winked as them.

Taking off her clothes in Josh’s room was the most comfortable thing Melissa had done all night. She didn’t even bother took look at the room until her bikini panties had joined her platform shoes on the floor.

Josh’s room was pretty standard. The girls in his bikini posters were pretty hot, but what really caught Melissa’s attention were the leather straps attached at each corner of his bed.

“Those aren’t mine.” Josh said bashfully. “They belonged to the guy who lived here last year.”

“I think having straps there is a wonderful idea.”

Melissa said. After all, sometimes you needed something like that to keep ambitious female grad students in their proper place, prone on the floor.

Where had that come from? But it was so hard to concentrate with Josh tying her spread-eagled on the bed...

They were being watched lustfully from far away.

VII.

Melissa made sure she was early for Bustopher class on Monday, but she wasn’t early enough. Prof. Hampton had left a note on the board canceling class, but no one seemed to even think of leaving. Claire, Veronica and Heidi were in a large mass of legs and breasts in the corner of the room. Meg was already bent over a desk being plowed by Josh’s beautiful prick. Oh well. She would get a turn. Melissa knew from personal experience that Josh had the stamina of a horse.

In preparation, Melissa slid her dress over her head. Luckily, she hadn’t been wearing underwear, so it didn’t take her long to put her mouth on Meg’s and get Meg’s hand up her pussy. Their nipples both got hard as they rubbed their breasts together. Melissa fucked herself as hard as she could on Meg’s hand.

There was a loud sigh, and all three of them whipped around. Prof. Clarissa Dagenfield was leaning in the doorway with her hand as far up her skirt as it would go. Melissa pulled away from Meg and walked up to Professor Dagenfield, wearing only thigh highs and platform shoes.

“God, I love it when Ed teaches Bustopher. Oh, Melissa, please...” Professor Dagenfield whined, lifting up her skirt to reveal her dripping pussy. Melissa groaned and fell to her knees. Professor Dagenfield would return the favor more than once.

VIII. Epilogue

Thirty years later, Professor Melissa Banks-Dean sat in her office trying prepare to teach a class. Somehow, she was finding the picture of her husband Josh on her desk unusually distracting. Perhaps because her inner thighs got damp when she even thought of the night before. He husband was such a sweet man.

Josh would be excited to hear about her Bustopher class and she was looking forward to hearing about his. There were jokes made in the academic community about how often Bustopher scholars ended up marrying one another. People who made a career out of studying him were, on the whole, a strange lot. Meg had even ended up one. After her relationship with Professor Dagenfield had come out, so to speak, no seminary had wanted her. Not that Meg had minded much. Educating sexy young undergrads was such a noble profession, after all.

Melissa turned back to “Systems of Philosophy.” Her hand slid under her skirt. With practice, she’d gotten to the point where her orgasms weren’t so powerful that they knocked her out anymore. But she still couldn’t read Bustopher without a hand toying with her clit.

A common problem, frequently discussed in the bar at American Theological Society conferences when the attendees had drunk too much.

Melissa looked up at the clock and drew her tongue across her lips. Josh’s class would be over by now. She wondered how it had gone. She knew she’d hear all about it that night, what had happened, what Josh wished had happened and what would surely be happening by mid-semester. And maybe if she had some good stories in return, Josh would take her on the pool table...

Far, far, away, someone laughed long and hard until the puppet strings were heavy in his transparent hands.