The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 4

“So, did you ever study geometry?” Richard asked me.

“Sure,” I answered. “In high school.”

“Tell me, then: what do you do in geometry class?”

I blinked at this unexpected question. I had prompted it, somehow, by complaining that I didn’t understand how to go from the stated problem to a program for solving it; but for the life of me I couldn’t see the connection.

“Well...,” I began hesitantly, “you draw figures...”

“Geometry,” Richard said, “not art.”

I gave him a glare, but really, he was too cute for me to be mad at him. “All right,” I started again. “You do proofs.”

“Exactly!” Richard smiled at me as if I had just won a gold star. I found myself smiling fatuously back. Brother. I disgusted even myself.

“Writing a program,” he went on, “is just like constructing a proof. You are given certain things. You have precise rules for how to combine them to get new things. You have to write down a rigorous, step-by-step procedure to go from the given to the conclusion. Except,” he raised a finger for emphasis, “writing a program is easier than proving a theorem, because with a theorem you don’t necessarily know whether the conclusion is correct, or how to show it; while with a program, you are usually carrying out some fairly well-defined procedure.”

“Geometry was my favorite math class,” I mentioned. This was actually true. I remembered the first couple of weeks of class, being bewildered, uncertain about what it was we were supposed to do. Then suddenly, it had all clicked, and I had loved it after that.

“If that’s so,” Richard said, “then by the time we’re done with you you’re going to love computer science.”

I think I may love it already, I thought, but probably not for the right reasons. Oh, well. Give me time.

Step by step.

Match point.

Arlene was bouncing the ball with her left hand, watching me across the net. It was pretty early yet, and the air was cool, but we had both worked up quite a sweat. The two of us rarely played tennis together—Arlene liked to play “for fun,” and I had difficulty restraining my killer instincts, so it seemed better to play with other partners rather than risk our friendship over a game. Today, though, Arlene had decided that she needed exercise, and I had agreed to a couple of friendly sets. I had promised myself to take it easy and just have a good time.

My good intentions proved unnecessary, since Arlene had proceeded to beat my tail all around the court. For some reason my concentration was shot all to hell. Arlene had broken my serve a humiliating four times, taking the first set easily, and was about to do the same with the second. In the meanwhile I had given up no fewer than nine aces, double-faulted seven times, and failed to break her serve even once.

Her first serve was long. Arlene pulled a second ball out of her pocket, bounced it a couple of times, then threw it up and smacked it towards me. I tried to get my breathing under control and focus on the ball. It was a nice, easy hit, careful to be in bounds; I returned it with no trouble. We rallied back and forth a few times. To hell with friendly, I thought, and charged the net. Arlene acquired a slightly panicked look and hit the ball towards me. I returned it hard, but not quite hard enough; Arlene managed to catch up with it and send it wobbling back. I dove left; the ball went right. Game, set, and match.

“You know,” Arlene told me while we were sitting on the bench afterwards, “that was really good for my ego.” She scrubbed her face off with a towel and added, “Of course, it would have been even better if you’d been playing in the same court with me. What was up with you today?”

“Nothing,” I said. “You were playing really well.”

“Sure, sure,” Arlene said. “Come on, when’s the last time I beat you in straight sets?” She thought about it for a moment. “For that matter, have I ever beaten you in straight sets?”

“Ummmm...” I shrugged. “I dunno. I was feeling kind of distracted.”

“Distracted,” Arlene said skeptically. “Right.”

I shrugged again. “Richard says that half of all problem-solving is the ability to focus on a problem without getting distracted,” I offered.

“Ha!” said Arlene cryptically. She took a swig of Gatorade.

“What does ‘Ha!’ mean?” I asked her with some irritation.

“Well, ‘Ha!’ can mean lots of things,” Arlene answered. “In this case, it means: that’s the third time this morning you’ve started a sentence with the words ‘Richard says.’ ”

I felt my face heating. “So?”

“ ‘So?’ " Arlene said mockingly. “So, when did Brad get replaced?”

I stared at her like an idiot, and she sighed. “Oh, please. It’s obvious you’ve got a thing for this Richard guy. You can’t fool me. I know all. So, go on, spill it. What’s he like? Have you kissed him yet? Tell Arlene everything; you’ll feel better for it.”

“He’s nice,” I said. “No, I haven’t kissed him. He’s just my tutor.” My tutor, who currently played a starring role in a series of the most erotic dreams I’d ever had.

“Nice,” Arlene said with distaste. “That is not a description. What does he look like?”

“Uh...well, he’s tall,” I said.

“Big surprise there,” Arlene murmured. “Have you ever dated anyone under six feet?”

“He has brown hair. And he’s...uh...well, he’s gorgeous.” I felt myself blushing again. “Look, Jack had him as a tutor, right? Didn’t he ever tell you anything about him?”

“Certainly not in those terms,” Arlene said. “Gorgeous, huh? Sounds good so far. Go on.”

“Well,” I said, “he’s also really smart. And he’s good at explaining things. He makes ideas seem so much clearer—not just computer science ideas, but all kinds of things. I suppose that’s why I keep quoting him.”

“That, and the fact that you have the hots for him,” Arlene said.

“I do not have the hots for him,” I said. Oh, yeah. I can lie to myself.

Arlene shook her head sadly. “The truth will set you free, sweetie. All right, what else? What’s he like?”

“He’s...” I tried to think of a word to describe him. “He’s peaceful.”

At this, Arlene looked genuinely surprised. “Peaceful?” she said. “Well, that is new. All your previous boyfriends were anything but.”

“Richard isn’t my boyfriend,” I said. But God, I wanted him to be. “He’s just my tutor.”

Arlene just shook her head again and got up, slinging her tennis bag over one shoulder and picking up her racket. “Fight it all you like,” she said. “I know you. He hasn’t got a chance, and neither have you.”

“So, why don’t you live in the dorms?” I asked Richard as he looked over my latest program. I had spent my time relaxing in the chair, luxuriating in the feeling of total peace. The pre-session relaxation seemed to be getting longer every night, but Richard never complained. Neither did I, since I felt so good afterwards; but I noticed that rather than just the feeling of calm it had produced at first, there was now a distinct admixture of arousal. No wonder I was having trouble keeping my hands to myself.

“Because I can’t,” he said without looking around. “Undergrads only.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid. “You’re a grad student?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Besides, when I graduated I swore that I would never eat institutional food again.”

“Right,” I said. “So, what do computer science grad students do?”

Richard turned to look at me. “Haven’t the foggiest,” he said. “I’m in the psychology department.”

“Oh,” I said again. “Sorry, I just thought...I mean, you’re awfully good at this computer stuff.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking back at the screen. “It’s partly a hobby, but partly work related. I’m interested in artificial intelligence.”

“Artificial intelligence...I could use some of that,” I said jokingly.

“No, you couldn’t,” Richard said. “You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. How many English Lit majors would even think of taking CS 110?”

A warm feeling came over me at this unexpected compliment—delivered in a completely off-hand way that left no doubt of its sincerity. I felt a familiar tingle, and resisted the urge to rip my shirt off and yell Take Me Now!

“So, why all the questions?” Richard asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “We’ve been spending a lot of hours together, and I realized I know almost nothing about you.”

“Not much to know,” Richard said. He turned towards me and began ticking off points on his fingers. “I’m twenty-four. I’m in my third year of grad school. My advisor is Professor Arneson. I grew up in New York State, and went to college here at the university. I have three sisters—two younger, one older. I dated a girl named Caroline all four years of college, but we broke up after graduating, when she moved to California. We remain friends. No one else since then, due to lack of time. I’m six foot three and weigh two hundred five pounds. My resting pulse is 54 beats per minute. My social security number...”

“All right, all right,” I said, feeling myself blush again. “I didn’t mean to be nosy. Sorry!”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Richard said, turning back to the screen.

“So...” I said after a brief silence. “Do you want to know all my vital stats?”

Richard shot me an unreadable look. “I think I’m getting to know you pretty well,” he said. “At least, the important things.”

I wasn’t sure how to interpret that. “And do you like what you’re finding out?” I asked eventually.

Richard’s smile was too slight for a grin, but it was definitely trending in that direction. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I like it a lot. Now, let’s go over this program...”

The rest of the session passed with a warm, fluttery feeling dancing about inside me.

Chapter 5

It was the palace again. I recognized it at once—the same cool marble, the same tapestries, the same lamps. I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. I had changed. My face was covered with a feathered mask, and I wore the rich robes of the courtiers, many layers of crimson silk brocade. My hair was piled on my head in an elaborate coiffure, held in place with jeweled pins and topped with a glittering tiara. I wore light sandals, beaded in a complex pattern. A faint, flowery scent clung to me.

I turned and walked down the corridor, sandals clicking on the floor. I came to the doors, which stood open, and entered the throne room. Once again the room was crowded, but this time the people within took no notice of me. Everyone wore masks like mine. The room was filled with the buzz of conversation and the smell of perfume, rising over the smoke from burning lamps. I mixed with the crowd, working my way towards the far end of the room. The large dais was empty.

Everyone seemed to turn at once, in response to a signal I didn’t see, and bowed towards the dais. I hastily did the same. The line of guards marched out, followed by Richard, who sat once more in the throne. The courtiers rose, and resumed their talk, but a bit more quietly now.

Richard was looking over the crowd. I saw him frown in puzzlement. Then his eyes found mine and narrowed. He pointed at me.

“You!” he said. “Come here.”

Dead silence. My heart seized. I felt vaguely that I had been caught in some wrongdoing, but I had no idea what.

“Me?” I said, my voice sounding no louder than a whisper.

“You,” he repeated. “Come here,”

Everyone had stopped talking. They were all looking at me. I felt the pulse pounding in my throat. I stepped forward to the edge of the dais and bowed as I had before.

Richard was clearly not satisfied. “Take off your mask.”

Take off my mask? But then, everyone would see, everyone would see...what? I had no idea. I only knew that I was afraid of what they would see. Slowly, my hands rose to my mask. It was tied on with a silken cord. I loosened the knot and let the mask fall.

A murmur rose around me as my face was revealed, but Richard’s expression eased. He shook his head.

“Why do you disguise yourself?” he asked me.

“I’m not...disguised...” I said. I wasn’t. Was I?

“Of course you are.” He waved at me impatiently. “Take that off.”

For a moment I wasn’t sure what he meant. I had already removed the mask. Everyone was watching. I felt their gazes, like ice against my skin, paralyzing me. For a long instant I was frozen. Then I understood. I took the tiara off, and pulled the pins from my hair, letting them drop to the floor. I shook my head, and my hair cascaded about my shoulders. Richard was still waiting. I kicked off the sandals. The robe fastened with a jeweled brooch; I opened it and let the cloth puddle around my feet, an ocean of crimson silk. A second robe followed. A sleeveless tunic, pulled off over my head and dropped.

I now wore only a shift of transparent pink, my body clearly visible through the filmy fabric. The eyes were still on me, devouring me. One more step. I couldn’t move. After a moment, Richard nodded to one of his guards. The man stepped down from the dais, drawing a knife, and I felt an instant of mortal terror, but couldn’t break my paralysis. The knife flashed in the yellow light, and the last scrap of silk fluttered down about my ankles. I was totally exposed, with all those eyes on me. A breeze curled around me, raising the light hairs on my arms, making my nipples peak. I sank to my knees on my scattered clothes and bowed my head in shame, my hair hiding my face.

“Everyone else out,” I heard Richard say. There was a stir of sound all around as the crowd dispersed. I didn’t look up. A footstep came in front of me.

“Look at me, Susie.”

I looked up. Richard stood there, looking down at me.

“Why did you try to hide from me?” he asked, sounding almost sad. “Don’t you know that I can always find you?” He held his hand out to me.

Shame gripped me, and I felt tears come to my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching up to take his hand. “Master.”

Darkness again, the same dizzying whirl of disorientation. I was in bed, in my room, my flesh throbbing with need. The blankets were stifling me; I threw them off. My skin radiated so much heat that I felt it should glow in the dark.

Master, I thought. My God, Susan, you are one sick puppy. Whatever happened to being in charge of your own life? This is beyond retro. This is positively medieval. Prehistoric. You need serious, serious help.

Meanwhile my body was telling me what kind of help it wanted. I tried to lie still, arms rigidly at my side, and wait for the feeling to pass, but it only intensified. I tried not to think about Richard’s long, hard body, and how much I wanted it touching me, filling me, driving me crazy. I hummed. I recited multiplication tables in my head. I tried to remember the words to ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ Bad choice; my body knew how to get to heaven, and it wanted it right now.

Finally, with a groan, I gave it up. At the first touch my nerves started to shiver with delight. I was so hot that it took only seconds to bring myself off. I had to strangle a cry of joy that would not only have woken Arlene but half the people in our hallway, as pleasure sluiced through me, a tidal surge, erasing thought. I lay on the bed, dizzy with the aftereffects, trying to control my breathing as I gradually came back to earth.

So, I was a little obsessed. I was just horny, that was all. It would pass. Brad had tried to make up to me the other day; I’d been tempted, just in the interests of sexual release, but the truth was that I had no desire for him whatsoever. I’d sent him packing. I knew what I wanted; or rather, who I wanted. I just didn’t know how to get it.

It’s all right, I told myself. It will all work out. And I can’t be held responsible for the contents of my dreams. Can I?

Can I?

Chapter 6

Richard looked surprised when he opened the door for me. He stepped aside, and I entered, my desire for him almost palpable as I walked past. If I didn’t do something soon I was going to explode.

“What’s up?” he asked me. “I thought you had a final this afternoon.”

“I do,” I said. “In about an hour. That’s why I’m here.”

Richard closed the door and came in after me. I put my hands on my hips to keep from grabbing him.

“You’re more than ready for it,” Richard said. “You haven’t really needed my help for weeks.”

“I know,” I said. “Thanks. You’ve done a lot for me.”

“So, what do you want now?”

I wanted...I wanted...I pushed the thought aside.

“I was hoping you’d let me...you know, sit in the chair. Get ready for the exam. I’m feeling a little tense.” Nothing that a good roll in the hay wouldn’t cure...too bad there isn’t time right now...

“Of course,” Richard said. He gestured towards the chair. “Go ahead. I’ll keep track of the time, so you don’t need to worry about missing the test.”

“Thanks,” I said again. I sat down and took a deep breath, like he’d taught me, letting my muscles loosen as I looked up at the print. Richard settled into the chair next to me. I opened my mind and let darkness claim me...down...down...

...and back, a timeless moment later, to a feeling of peace, mental clarity, blessed freedom from the emotional turbulence that had been troubling me for the last few days. Richard was watching me, and I smiled at him; thinking how handsome he was, how much I wanted him, but not letting it disturb my tranquility.

“Your exam is in twenty minutes,” he said. “You’d better get going.”

“Right.” I got up, my feeling of calm unaffected by the movement. I picked up my bookbag and slung it over my shoulder. Richard preceded me to the door and let me out.

“Susan,” he said as I started to leave. I looked back at him. “Let me know how it goes.”

“I will,” I said. “Count on it.”

“All right, people, you can open your exams now. You have two hours to complete all the questions. If you need another blue book, raise your hand and we’ll bring you one. Begin.”

The lecture hall was too big for the number of students; we were scattered like shells on a beach. I slid my finger through the exam, breaking the tape that held it closed, and opened to the first question. I read it carefully. Shaking my head almost in disbelief, I read the next question, then the next, until I had read the exam all the way through.

It was all so easy. My God, was this their idea of a tough test? Richard would laugh at questions like these.

I opened my blue book, licked the tip of my pencil, and started to write.

Richard again. He smiled as he looked at me, then stood aside to let me in. I was still riding the wave of euphoria from my exam. I’d been one of the first to hand it in, and I’d come straight here, not even stopping by my dorm room first.

“Well?” he said.

“It was easy,” I said. “I finished it with half an hour to spare. I can’t believe how much trouble this used to give me. I mean, it was all obvious.” I was glowing, and Richard gave his booming laugh.

“See, I told you,” he said.

I grinned at him. “A gentleman never says ‘I told you so.’ ”

Richard grinned back. “Who says I’m a gentleman?” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“I hope you’re not,” I said. I advanced on him. He was mine now. He didn’t have a chance. Assuming he wanted one. “I just wanted to thank you,” I purred, “for everything you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome,” Richard said, standing his ground. We were only inches apart. I put my hands on his shoulders and rose on my toes, eye to eye.

“No,” I said. “I want to really thank you.”

“Okay,” Richard said, his voice low. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something like this,” I said, and kissed him.

It was the first time we had ever kissed, and I savored its sweetness, eyes closed. His lips were warm and soft against mine. Our bodies brushed together, barely touching, an exquisite hint of sensation. I pulled back and looked at him. He smiled at me.

“Oh,” he said. “I thought you might mean something more like this.”

His arms came around me, crushing me against him as he pressed his lips back against mine. This kiss was not sweet. It was urgent, demanding, and I yielded to him with a groan. My lips parted under his, and his tongue flicked against mine. My breasts were pressed tightly against his chest. He was hard; everywhere, hard. His arms held me up, my feet barely touching the floor; my own arms twined around his neck, pulling his face against mine. My body was throbbing with familiar need: the need from my dreams; the need for him.

At length we parted, panting for air. I tossed my hair back and put my hands against his chest.

“Yes, that was pretty good,” I acknowledged. “But I think I really meant something more like this.”

I pushed him, and he fell back onto the couch. I was on top of him in an instant, kissing him, my hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. They opened and I kissed my way down, across his throat, over his muscular chest, my tongue flirting briefly with his nipples before continuing down to the flat ridges of his stomach. I pulled the shirt out from his trousers and unbuckled his belt. His hands caressed my hair, and he was murmuring encouragements. I yanked the belt off, then undid his fly; with his help, I pulled down his trousers and shorts. He was very erect, tremblingly so. I leaned in, feeling daring, and drew my tongue along his length in a way that made him gasp with pleasure. My pussy was so wet that I was sure he could smell my arousal. I drew back a bit, lifting my skirt, and pulled my underwear down and off. Our eyes met. He shifted position to make room for me; I straddled his body, feeling my limbs shiver with fear and desire and anticipation. The tip of him touched me, stroked, entered. I moaned as I lowered myself, feeling his hardness fill me. It was so good. I’d wanted this for so long. I tensed my thighs and rose, then settled again, feeling him move inside me. His hips started rocking, pressing into me, matching my rhythm. Oh, God.

Richard’s fingers had found the buttons of my blouse and were speedily opening them. It parted, and with a shrug I slid it off. He opened the front catch of my bra. It was the only front-opening bra I owned; the small part of my brain that could still think of anything but how good I felt congratulated me on that bit of strategic planning. He cupped my tits, my hard nipples pressing into his palms as he slowly kneaded. Then he drew his fingers down, squeezing my nipples, tugging them, sending jolts of ecstasy through me. My urgency was increasing rapidly; I rose and fell, pumping him in and out of me.

“That feels...so...fucking...good...,” I gasped.

“Huh,” Richard said, still fondling me. “And how about this?” He raised his shoulders from the couch and captured the tip of my breast between his lips. My only answer was a moan. I don’t think I was capable of speech any more. His tongue swirled around my tit as he sucked, his hands tight on my ass, pulling me harder against him, and suddenly I was over the top and accelerating down the slope of the biggest water slide ever created, as a blaze of pleasure shot from my loins to my tits and exploded outward. I screamed, maybe his name, maybe just noise, I’m not sure. He’d gone rigid against me, and I knew he was coming as well. I was intensely there, inside my body, and at the same time floating two feet above it, watching my muscles convulse around him as I came. Then it was over, and I collapsed like a marionette with the strings cut.

We lay there for a long time. He was still inside me, a strangely comforting presence. I rested, trying to recapture my breath, and to remember who and where I was, and why I’d waited so long to do this.

After a while, Richard broke the silence. “You’re welcome.”

I giggled. I chuckled. I started laughing, and became mildly hysterical. Richard held me and waited tolerantly for me to run down. After a while I calmed again and cautiously pulled myself off of him, sucking in a sharp breath as he slipped from inside me. I stepped over into my chair and dropped into it with a sigh.

“Wow,” I said.

“Yeah,” Richard agreed. He sat up, then pushed his trousers and shorts completely off. I found myself staring at his naked body in fascination; I’d fantasized about it for so long I could hardly believe that I was seeing it for the first time in reality. He returned my scrutiny with a long look of his own.

“I trust everything is satisfactory?” I asked him at length.

“Everything was satisfactory,” he said. “But I’m not sure that everything is.”

That caught me off guard, and I frowned at him. “Why, what’s wrong?”

He pointed at me. “You are wearing far too many clothes right now. You should be naked for, oh, well, at least the rest of the day. Maybe the next several days, as well.”

I made a face at him and he grinned. He rose to his feet and gestured at me.

“Get up,” he said. I obediently stood, and he stepped around the coffee table to stand beside me. He pulled the straps of my bra off of my shoulders and tossed it aside. Next he unbuttoned and unzipped my skirt; it slid off of my hips and pooled around my feet. I had a flash from my dream, puddles of crimson silk, and felt dizzy. He unlaced my shoes, and I put my hand on his shoulder for balance as he pulled them off one at a time, along with my socks. He stood again and looked me over, then gently lifted my left hand and removed my wristwatch, setting it on the table.

“All right,” he said at last. “I guess you’ll do.”

“Thank you so much,” I said sweetly.

Richard’s lips twitched in a grin, but he suppressed it and tried to look stern. “It sounds to me like you need a lesson, young lady.” He caught me under my shoulders and knees and lifted me easily in his arms. I squeaked and wrapped my arms around him. He walked towards the door to his bedroom and pushed it open with his foot.

“And after all,” he added as he carried me in, “I’m your tutor. So I’m just the man to give it to you.”

Oh, yes, teacher. I’ll be good.