The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

As if the night hadn’t been otherworldly enough, Troy awoke Sunday morning and walked into the kitchen to see Justin standing over a gleaming chrome waffle iron.

“The fuck?”

“Morning, Troy,” said Justin too cheerfully for 9 AM. “I got sick of cereal and eggs. For $50, a bit of variety in our lives. Now that’s a good investment!” (Ever since his first glimpse of the VM-Stim, “Now that’s a good investment!” had become Justin’s favorite catch phrase to use around Troy. It would have annoyed the shit out of him if he hadn’t also found it pretty funny the first time Justin had used it—to refer to a shimmering zebra-patterned whale tail sticking up above a pair of low-rise jeans.) “Anyway, sounded like you had the fuck last night, not me. We just played Settlers till 1 AM.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Troy grinned shamelessly. “Fun was had. Poon was tanged.”

“I never would have guessed. So how did this occurrence come to pass?”

“Let’s just say I met someone at a party.”

“Is that bacon?” said Kayla, walking into the kitchen draped in one of Troy’s T-shirts. Her unconstrained breasts bounced conspicuously under the shirt—a little too conspicuously, as she moved her arms to cover them from Justin’s startled gaze.

“Uh . . . yeah,” said Justin. “Do you want some?” He looked at Troy with the same expression that Troy had used on the waffle iron.

“No bacon, thanks. But can I have a waffle?”

“Sure,” he said, “anything for a guest.“ He turned his attention to the bacon and his back to Kayla and Troy.

Troy looked at Kayla like the cat that ate the canary. Kayla smiled weakly, watching Justin out of the corners of her eyes. Troy gave her an inquiring look. Kayla, exasperated, removed her arms from her breasts and held them up to Troy, exhibiting the erect nipples that were tenting out through the T-shirt, then covered herself up again while her eyes said, Do you get it now? Troy had to stifle laughter.

Justin served breakfast at the kitchen table, unable to look at Troy and trying hard not to stare at Kayla. Still playing the host, he made small talk with Kayla, who was reticent at first but gradually opened up. Troy felt a twinge of jealousy, even though he knew his roommate presented no competition, with or without the VM-Stim.

Kayla left shortly before noon. Troy closed behind her and turned to find Justin standing closer than he’d ever dared get. “What the hell was that, Troy? What the fuck did I just see?”

“Well, Justin, if I had to guess, I’d say . . . Kayla Henry.”

“That is what I did not want to believe. What did you do? Don’t tell me you just charmed the pants off her. She’s not that charmable, and you’re not that charming.”

“Justin, you need to have more faith in the miracle of modern technology.”

Justin gaped. “That bike-light sex ray thing? You did something to her with it?”

“Did I ever. You should think of getting yourself one of those. Might give you something to do on the weekends besides play board games.”

Justin shook his head in disbelief. “As nice as it would be to get laid for a change, Troy, I’d like to think that someday it will be possible without brainwashing the woman I’m sleeping with.” He sighed. “That is too fucking dangerous a thing for a person to have. That is . . . like, a rapist’s remote control. That’s what you did, Troy, whether you want to believe it or not.”

“Does she look like a victim to you?” Troy retorted. “Does she look pissed off? Those sounds you heard last night? Those were Kayla Henry having the fuck of her life. She said so herself. Best sex she’d ever had. Only good sex she’d ever had. You think that gadget is a rape gun? I bet if you asked her, she’d call it a gift.”

“I bet if you asked her, she’d have no fucking idea what you were talking about.”

“Yeah, well,” said Troy, “what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Monday morning, Troy arrived in Organizational Behavior to see Shelby trying to soothe a shell-shocked Kayla. Oh, fuck, Troy thought. Something has gone very wrong.

But he didn’t have time to think about it, as Professor Johns handed out test packets. He fought his way through the distracting thoughts and did his best to complete the test. About 10 minutes before the end of the period, Kayla got up and put her test on the professor’s desk, then hastened out of the classroom, looking like she was about to cry. Troy scrambled to finish before the bell and made it with just a couple of minutes to spare. Dashing out of the room, he saw Kayla sitting down the hallway on a concrete bench. He walked over and stage-whispered, “Kayla? What’s going on?”

She looked up. “Oh, God, Troy,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t think about anything but you all weekend. I totally forgot about this stupid test. I didn’t study for it at all. God, I’m so dumb. I looked at the first question and had no idea where to even start.”

“Shit, Kayla, that sucks,” Troy said.

She looked at him pleadingly. “What am I going to do? How am I going to pass my classes if all I can think about is sex?”

“Hey, who says you need a degree, anyway? Would it matter if you dropped out? You could just let me take care of you.”

Kayla scoffed. “My dad never lets me forget how much he’s paying for me to go here. He’d be so mad if I flunked out, I don’t know what he’d do. I’m his little girl. I can’t let him down.”

Shit, thought Troy. Now I’ve got to work around an overprotective daddy. “Okay, look. You’ve got sorority sisters in all your classes, right? Set aside some study time with them. That way you can get your homework done and still have time for me.”

“Yeah, I usually do that. I probably wouldn’t have passed my other classes if I didn’t. But the study time for this was going to be Sunday morning. I missed it.”

“All right, so during study time you belong to the Zetas. The rest of the time, you belong to me.”

Kayla grinned and sniffled. “Can I ask you for something, Troy?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t have to be anywhere until 2 o’clock. Can we go have some comfort sex?”

“That,” said Troy, “is an excellent idea.”

As it turned out, Kayla had panicked unnecessarily: she’d blown that first question on the management test, but she’d done well enough on the others to score an 81. She was stunned when Professor Johns handed her the paper. Shelby squealed, grinned, and hugged her. Kayla turned and looked Troy’s way with a disbelieving smile. Troy gave her a thumbs-up. Shelby saw the exchange; her eyes narrowed. She hustled Kayla out of the room at the end of class.

Troy saw Kayla about a dozen times over the next several weeks. She always dressed to flatter herself, even if she was only coming by Troy’s place for a booty call; she said she wanted to look good for him. Whenever he made an advance, she was always pliable, instantly aroused, and ready to do whatever he asked. But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. The third week of November, Troy didn’t see Kayla, except in class, for six days. When she finally came to his apartment, she’d barely gotten in the door before she begged him to strip her naked and have his way with her. After he obliged—a frantic quickie in which their hair-trigger libidos had them both satisfied in less than 10 minutes—and the fog of sexual excitement dissipated from Kayla’s mind, she broke the bad news.

“They know,” she said. “Kelsey and Mallory saw us out together. And then I went to your place after a workout, and Krista got suspicious. They think you’re manipulating me or something. They’re trying to talk me into not seeing you.”

“But you know that what I tell you comes first.”

“I know that. I do. But they’re my friends, and I’m loyal to them too. And to the sorority. I like the support I get from that, you know? I like having someplace where I know I belong. I know I need to make you happy, but I don’t want to do anything to make them mad. I don’t want to lose either one of you.”

“Hang on. I have an idea.” Troy opened the drawer of his nightstand and reached in.

“You’re not looking for condoms, are you? I thought we didn’t need those anymore.”

“Nope. I’m looking for this.” He took out the VM-Stim, aimed it at Kayla’s eyes, and pressed the button. The twelve seconds of strobe erased the conflict from Kayla’s face.

“Kayla, listen to me carefully and repeat what I say,” said Troy, placing the device back in the nightstand. “You don’t need to be afraid of what your sorority sisters think.”

“I don’t . . . don’t . . . ”

“You don’t need to be afraid of what your sorority sisters think.”

“Don’t need . . . be afraid . . . what they think.”

“You’re committed to me. You belong to me. I come first.”

“You . . . come first.”

“You don’t need their approval.”

“Don’t . . . need . . . their approval.”

“You don’t have to make excuses to them.”

“Don’t . . . make . . . excuses.”

“You can be with me as much you want.”

“As much . . . " Kayla weakly lifted a hand, a gesture that puzzled Troy.

“What are you doing?”

“Want . . . " That was as far as she got.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Rather than answer, she just breathed—deep, panting breaths. Suddenly she sat up and looked directly into Troy’s eyes. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Want . . . " Kayla panted, " . . . you.“ She reached around the back of his head, pulled him to her, and kissed him as if her life depended on it.

For a moment, Troy was too startled to act. Then he raised his hand to Kayla’s tit. The skin was hot, as if she had a fever. The taut, straining nipple burned a point into his hand. She was practically hyperventilating as she embraced him and pulled him to her tightly.

Blood began to rush back into his spent cock. It stiffened, poking Kayla in the thigh. When she felt it, she reached a hand down and held it, stroking it gently, as if trying to coax it to even greater length and size. When he let out an involuntary “Fuck,” she seemed to take the word literally, as if it had been a command: she turned around, on her hands and knees, and raised her pelvis in the air, just as she had their first night together.

Bewildered, Troy scooted behind her on his knees, aimed his cock at her opening and slid in. If her tit had felt hot, her pussy felt like he was sticking his cock in a microwave oven. He’d never felt anything like this, his bare cock swimming inside her slick, clenching tunnel—she was also tighter than he could remember her ever being. As wet as she was, when he slid out, it was an effort to push back in, an effort that forced high-pitched moans from her throat. He reached around as he thrust and held her swinging tits, squeezing them. Her moans crescendoed, and she came hard; only a minute later, she came again. It was getting to be too much for Troy, whose dick felt impossibly huge and hard inside her; an imminent orgasm boiled up in his balls, charged his shaft with come. He barely managed to gasp out, “Kayla, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” before she clenched down on him, hard, and he completely lost it, ecstatic jets of come rocketing out of his loins and into hers, mixing with her copious juices. He came so intensely, he saw stars. Her own third orgasm of the encounter reached him as if from the far side of an echo chamber.

After pulling out of her, Troy was so dazed, he couldn’t stay upright; he flopped down on the bed next to Kayla, who was gasping for breath, her face deeply flushed. “Troy . . . " she panted. “Water. Need . . . water. Now.”

Troy wobbled his way off the bed, staggered to the bathroom, filled a paper cup with water, and brought it to her. She drained it in a single swallow. “More,” she said, “a glass.” Boggled, Troy filled the order. She took the glass in both hands and gulped it down without pausing for breath. The glass empty, she dropped it on the bed and sighed.

“Jesus,” she panted. “What came over me? We were talking about something, weren’t we? I can’t even remember.”

“Whatever it was,” Troy said, “it can’t have been important.”

Kayla laughed—a bubbly, vivacious laugh he’d never heard before. “I guess not, huh? God. Sex like that can make you forget that anything else matters.” She put a hand on Troy’s chest and stroked it. “Troy? I want you to know, I’m committed to you. I’m not worried about what the Zetas think. I can tell them the truth—that I just fell for you, and you’re all right. When they see I’m happy, they’ll stop worrying.” She snuggled into him. “Mmmmm. God, I’m glad I found you. You woke something up in me. I’ve never felt so alive.” She grinned in his face, brought her lips millimeters from his. “You know what I am, Troy?” she whispered wickedly. “I’m your blond”—kiss—“bimbo”—kiss—“slut.”

She kissed the hell out of him, a wet, passionate, exploratory kiss.

“And if you’re up for it,” she said, “I’m ready for you to do me again.”

The next week was Thanksgiving break, which meant days apart as Troy drove back to his family’s home in Guildford, where the extended family was gathered for the holiday, and Kayla returned to hers in Middleboro. Holidays among the Davises always felt somewhat artificial: the men (which, by the family definition, did not include anyone under 40) congregated off by themselves, the young children played together, and the women formed an amorphous, roving hospitality crew making sure that everyone had what they needed but never stopping to have a conversation with anyone except, in passing, one another. That left everyone between 13 and 39 to mingle and try to sustain conversations when no two of them seemed to have any interest in common. It put the “long” in “long weekend.”

His departure delayed by pointlessly long goodbyes, Troy got back to Centerville early Sunday evening. He climbed the steps to his apartment, unlocked the door, went inside, and dropped his travel bag with a thud. As he closed the door, Justin walked into the living room, poker-faced. “You have a visitor,” he deadpanned, gesturing to the bedroom.

Troy opened the door of his bedroom and stared. Standing before him, hips cocked flirtatiously, was a ponytailed blonde wearing a pink blouse, unbuttoned halfway down, over a scoop-neck tank top that revealed astonishing cleavage; a dark-colored pencil skirt; and spike-heeled shoes. Her parted lips were colored fire engine red; her wide, blue eyes batted at him.

“Oh, good, I’m glad you’re here,” Kayla said. “I’m not sure where I am. I must have gotten lost. I get so scatterbrained sometimes.” She slinked over to him and put her hands on his chest. “You can show me where to go, can’t you?”

Troy’s sudden erection threatened to burst out of his pants. He grabbed her ass and pulled her to him with both hands.

“Oh!” Kayla said. “What are you doing? And what’s that hard thing in your pants?” She moved a hand down to feel it. “Where did this come from? It makes me feel so strange when it rubs against me.” She ground her hips against him. “I feel a little lightheaded. I think I need to lie down.”

Troy scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He dropped her, a little roughly, on her butt; she leaned back on her elbows, feet flat on the bed and knees in the air, and grinned. “That’s so much better. I was starting to feel . . . dizzy. It’s kind of hot in here, you know.” She unbuttoned the remaining buttons of her blouse and arched her shoulders back to shrug it off, thrusting her amazing breasts outward. Her nipples showed prominently through the tank top; her rosy areolas were visible through the white, ribbed fabric. She cupped a breast in each hand, lifted them, and examined them quizzically. “I couldn’t remember whether I’d worn any underwear today or not. I guess I must have forgotten.” She looked at Troy again, wide-eyed. “I get like that sometimes. Maybe I’d better check and see whether I’ve forgotten all my underwear.” Teasingly, she ran a hand down her waist, over her thigh, around the hem of her skirt, and slowly, slowly, up her leg. Finally her hand stopped, and she gasped. “It looks like I did. Nothing at all under there. That was so silly of me. I obviously can’t go out like this. What am I going to do?”

Troy’s answer was nonverbal. As fast as humanly possible, he undid his belt, shoved down his jeans and underwear, and dived onto the bed between Kayla’s legs. His erect cock rubbed against Kayla’s pubis.

“Ooh, so that’s what was in your pants!” she cooed, reaching for it. “I like how it feels, so hard and hot. I think I know where it would feel really, really good.” She moved it to her opening and rubbed it back and forth in her lubrication. “I think it would feel good in here, don’t you? I can’t wait to feel it inside me, moving in and out. That’s what I want to feel right now.” She tilted her hips, and he pushed deep inside. ”Ohhhhh, yes. Yes. That’s just what I need. That’s just what your blond slut needs. Give it to me. Fuck me. Harder.”

This time it was Troy whose brain was lost in a fog of sex. Her skirt bunched around her waist, knees in the air and legs resting on his back, he fucked her like an animal, while she tilted her pelvis up to him for deeper penetration, moaning and whining. As her noises rose in pitch toward a peak, she managed to gasp out, “Oh, I’m about to come. I’m going to come. I can’t come with this on.” She grabbed the bottom edge of her tank top and pulled it up over her head, exposing her round, firm tits, rising like hills above her chest, oscillating with the movements of their fucking. “Yes,” she said, “look at them. Look at my boobs. Look at my tits. I know you love these tits. You can’t get enough of them. They want you. They want you to touch them. I want you to touch them. Ohhhh . . . ohhhhhhhhh . . . unnnnnnnnnggghhh!“ The primal grunt welled up from deep inside her as she shook and bucked and gripped Troy’s cock inside her. Kayla’s orgasm was too much for Troy: without any warning, come started spilling out of his dick, then blasting. He collapsed on top of her, the top of his head blown off.

Kayla, panting as she came down, laughed. “Was that hot, Troy? Was that good for you? You got your blond bimbo slut, didn’t you?”

“Jesus . . . fucking . . . Christ!” Troy gasped. “That . . . that . . . shit!”

“What a man of words you are.” She laughed gently, kissing him. “That’s the kind of thing I’ll do for the man I love. Aren’t you the lucky one?”

“Jesus, Kayla,” said Troy. “You read my fucking mind. That was amazing.” He looked at the disheveled remains of her outfit. “When did you get the clothes?”

“Oh, I had plenty of time to go shopping over the weekend,” she replied. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, you know. I didn’t have to read your mind—it’s written all over you. And you’re always calling me that, although I was never sure how much you meant it. I know I’m kind of an airhead, and I know how guys look at me. But no matter how horny I got, I never felt comfortable putting myself on display like that. Just this past week, I felt, I don’t know, free. Like it didn’t matter anyway. If I felt like it, I could do it. And I really felt like it.” Her eyes narrowed, and she grinned. “You want me to do it again?”

“Fuck, yeah, Kayla, I want you to do it again. But one thing.” She looked at him inquiringly. “The skirt. You look totally hot in it, but that’s a marketing skirt, not a bimbo skirt. You need—”

“Schoolgirl?”

“Schoolgirl.”

She kissed him and ran a hand through his hair. “If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll do.”

Despite Kayla’s new bimbo fetish, which she indulged in every time she came over to Troy’s apartment for the evening and which continued to drive him wild (especially with the addition of a plaid pleated miniskirt), December was a frustrating month for Troy. Increasingly, Kayla was putting him off, claiming she had to study for this or that class. (Studying for Organizational Behavior was an experiment they abandoned after a single attempt.) It was worst just before finals week, when Kayla became a total study nun.

“You know you’re supposed to be with me whenever you can,” Troy reminded her when she phoned to inform him of a Zeta house study marathon. “Every chance you get. I come first, remember?”

“I’m sorry, Troy,” she said. “I feel like I have to be responsible about this. It’s one thing to get C’s and D’s in electives, but I’ve got to do better in my major. I can’t just blow these things off anymore.”

I know what you should be blowing off, Troy thought. Goddamn, I wish the VM-Stim worked over the phone. “Is it the Zetas?” he asked. “Are they making you do this?”

“No, Troy, they’re not. It’s my choice. This is something I need to do. Believe me, I’m giving up something too here. If I could spend all my time with you, I would. But it’s just not practical right now.”

“Fine, whatever.”

“Don’t get mad, Troy. You’ve got classes to study for, too. And I don’t want my sugar daddy to end up working on a used car lot because he flunked Interviewing. After finals, we’ll get together and lock ourselves in a room for a weekend. I promise.”

It took long enough, but Kayla made good on her promise: as soon as their last exams were over, Kayla flung herself into Troy’s arms and begged him to take her someplace far from campus with room service. After sex, dinner, and more sex, Troy and Kayla lay on the king-size bed, conversing about subjects that didn’t demand too much brainpower. Eventually, the conversation got around to their winter schedules.

“All business for me,” Troy said, closing his eyes and ticking off his schedule in his mind. “It’s the term I’ve been waiting for, actually. Two finance courses—Investments and Principles of Real Estate.”

“That’s fantastic. You must have been going crazy waiting for that real estate class.”

“You know it. Economic Forecasting—that’s important for real estate too. You don’t want to sink money into a market that’s going to tank in six months. And a couple of technical courses that I don’t really know anything about, but I’ve got to take them.”

“Survey of Operations Management—that’s one of them, right?” Kayla asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got that too. Who’s your instructor?”

“Chashka. You?”

“Same. Monday-Wednesday-Friday at 10.”

“Awesome,” said Troy. “We’ll have class together again. This time, sit by me.”

“Absolutely,” said Kayla, grinning.

“So what else have you got?”

“Two marketing classes, both required. And that Information Systems class we all have to take. I’ve got Gabriel for that.”

“I’ve got Reed. Oh, well.”

“And then I had to take an elective.”

“Yeah? What’d you pick?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“What? Advanced knitting?”

Kayla grimaced. “No, a philosophy course. Ethics. With Williamson.”

“Business Ethics? I thought we didn’t have to take that until senior year.”

“No, just Ethics. I guess it’s a more general course.”

Troy’s hackles rose. “What made you decide to take that?”

“Well,” Kayla said sheepishly, “remember how late you were coming back from Thanksgiving? I’d been waiting there a few hours. I talked with Justin a bit, and he suggested it. He’s nice, by the way. There I was with my boobs hanging out, and he was trying hard not to stare. It was cute.”

“What the fuck,“ Troy burst out, “was Justin doing telling you what classes to take?”

“He didn’t tell me to take it. He didn’t tell me to do anything. We were just talking. I asked him for suggestions, and he said he was taking that one. I asked him what it was all about, and he told me. I thought it sounded interesting.”

“So now you’re signing up for classes with him? What the fuck is going on, Kayla? Are you two going behind my back now?”

Kayla looked shocked and hurt. ”No, Troy, Jesus,” she said. “You were late getting back. We had a conversation. What were we supposed to do, ignore each other? You think because we talked about some things, I’m being unfaithful? You know I’m committed to you. You know I’m yours. I belong with you.” She turned her body toward his. “I’m your slut. I’m not a slut.”

“I just don’t like you making those choices without me.”

“What choices? My own schedule? It’s my business what classes I take.” Kayla softened. “I’m sorry, Troy. I love being with you. I need to be with you. Please don’t be angry. I get nervous when you get angry like this. It’s just a class. I’m not sleeping with the whole philosophy department, I’m taking one class. And I’m sleeping with you. If we can get any sleep, that is.”

Troy conceded the argument, but inside he still felt wounded by Kayla’s burst of independence. It hadn’t occurred to him to bring the VM-Stim along on their getaway, and now he was cursing himself for not having it handy. He needed to reestablish control. After a session of makeup sex—in which Troy fucked Kayla rather more forcefully and aggressively than he usually did—Kayla drifted off to sleep, but Troy’s unsettled temper kept him awake. Finally, he slipped out of bed, put on socks and shoes and a coat, left the hotel and drove the twenty minutes back to his apartment, where he crept into his own bedroom and retrieved the VM-Stim. When he let himself back into the hotel room, Kayla was still asleep. He shoved the device under his pillow, crawled back into bed and drifted off into fitful sleep.

He woke to Kayla’s hands exploring his chest and stomach. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said. “You must have been having some strange dreams. You tossed half the night.” She slid her body against his. “I’m sorry I upset you last night. I really didn’t mean to. Do you forgive me?”

Troy answered her with a twelve-second burst of flashing light.

“Kayla,” he said, “you listen to me. You do what I say. Not what Justin says. Say it.”

“Listen . . . to you . . . not Justin.”

“You’re mine, not Justin’s. Say it.”

“Yours. Not . . . Justin’s.”

“You know better than to step out of bounds. Say it.”

“Know . . . better . . . step . . . ”

“You belong to me. You know your place. Say it.”

“Belong . . . to you. Know . . . my place.”

“You’re still my blond bimbo slut. Say it.”

“Blond . . . bimbo . . . slut.” Her chest heaved.

“Fuck me now, slut.”

Without a word, she got on her hands and knees.

After he dropped Kayla off, Troy confronted Justin. “You fucking backstabber. I ought to fucking kick your ass for not minding your own fucking business.”

“What the hell are you babbling about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Talking Kayla into taking classes you think will convince her I’m a piece of shit so she’ll walk out on me. Your little fucking revenge.”

“Okay, can I say something here? First of all, fuck you. I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend, or your sex doll or whatever the hell Kayla is to you, so quit with the jealousy trip. Somehow you got her to like you. Frankly, I don’t want to know the details—but if anyone here is making her do things she doesn’t want to do, it’s you, not me. Second, she asked me for advice. She might have asked you if you’d been there to give it, but you weren’t, so I did. And I didn’t even suggest that she should take Ethics. She asked me what I was taking, and when I told her, she wanted to take it. I’m not some Svengali trying to corrupt unsuspecting young bimbos by luring them into the humanities. If that’s what you think, then you are completely off your fucking rocker.

“She’s your girlfriend, Troy, and I have no intention of getting in the way of that. But as far as I’m concerned, she’s also a person, and I’m not undermining you by treating her like one, okay? So if there’s anything more to say about this, can we do it in a reasonable and civilized way?”

“So you’re not trying to tell her that I’m controlling her?”

“I probably should, but no, I’m not. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a happy nympho bimbo of her own free will, and if she’s crazy enough to have sex with you, she’s too crazy for me to get involved with. You’re welcome to her.”

“Okay, then. Keep it that way.”

“Whatever.”

Satisfied that he’d won the round, Troy went into his room and packed his bag for the holiday break.

The two weeks’ vacation gave Troy a chance to think things over and cool down. Ultimately, he concluded, he was still the most important person in Kayla’s life. She still respected him, she still depended on him, and she still fucked him—with more passion than ever, he had to concede. He’d never seen her show interest in any other guy, and he’d been looking for signs; when she wasn’t glued to him, she seemed to interact only with the other Zetas. As for Justin, he was no threat to Troy’s dominance. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, but he was too much of an egghead to draw the hot chicks’ attention. For him, Troy figured, the best-case scenario was that someday he’d snag some mousy librarian chick who turned out to be a superfreak when she took her glasses off and let her hair down. The advantage was Troy’s.

The goodbyes delayed him again on his return to campus. When he got back to the apartment, Justin handed him a six-pack of Sam Adams with a bow on top. “Merry Christmas,” he said. Then he gave Troy a note. “Kayla left this for you,” he said. He retreated without saying anything more.

Troy read the note:

Dear Troy,

I came by to see if you were back yet, but Justin said you weren’t. I didn’t hang around this time, because I didn’t want to start our fight all over again. I guess this means I’ll have to wait until I see you in class. Two weeks without you is a long time, especially without school to keep my brain occupied. You’ve been on my mind constantly. Sometimes I worry that people notice how antsy I get when I think about you, like I’ve got sex flashing all over my face like a neon sign. But I guess I don’t need to be afraid of what they think as long as I’ve got you.

See you soon, I hope.

Love,

Kayla

Troy picked up the phone and dialed the Zeta house.

“Hello?”

“Can I talk to Kayla?”

There was a pause. “Is this Troy?” the voice on the other end asked icily.

“Yeah.”

Another pause. “I’ll tell her you’re on the phone.” The receiver clunked onto a table.

“Troy?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you called. I was worried that I wouldn’t even hear from you. Did you get back okay? Did Justin give you my note?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“I wanted to wait for you so badly, but you got kind of scary last time. I didn’t want to make you mad like that again.”

“Yeah, I know. I read the note. It’s all right. I’m not worried about you and Justin. I know you’re mine.”

Kayla sighed with relief. “Thank you, Troy. Thank you for trusting me. That’s what I like best about you—your confidence.”

Troy smiled at that. So Kayla saw him the way he saw himself. “What do you say we get together after classes on Monday?” he said. “Get something to eat, share schedules, fuck like animals.”

Kayla laughed. “Mmm. Does it have to be in that order?”

“The schedules can probably wait.”

“Ha!” Kayla paused. “Um, Troy . . . you know Justin is in one of my classes. Do I have to avoid him all semester? I think that would be kind of cold. You know, I’ve changed a lot, being with you. I’m happier than I was, and not as bitchy and mean. I’m not sure I want to be that person again.”

Troy pondered this. He’d used the VM-Stim on her in the first place in large part because of how she’d humiliated him. He remembered how much her moody, negative attitude had made him resent her. Did he want Kayla to treat Justin that way, just because he felt territorial toward her? As much of a know-it-all as Justin was, Troy didn’t have anything against him, really. And he’d already concluded that Justin was no threat. “You don’t have to avoid him. Be nice. You’re more attractive when you’re nice. Just remember who you belong to.”

“How could I forget? I think about you all the time.” She sighed. “This is going to be a tough semester. Lots of work. I hope I have time to see you.”

“You’ll make time.” It was more a command than a vote of confidence.

“I will. I’ll do my best. I really want to do well this semester. Oh! I forgot to tell you—I got straight B’s last semester! I haven’t seen Dad so happy in I don’t know how long. You didn’t just wake up my body, Troy, you woke up my mind. Oh, shit—it’s almost 11. I should get to bed. I have a 9 o’clock on Mondays now. Information Systems. Ugh.”

After they’d hung up, Troy’s mind worked over the conversation like a lump of clay, but he couldn’t get it into a shape he recognized. He’d woken up her body—and her mind? That wasn’t how it was supposed to go, was it? He’d wanted a dumb, curvy blonde who craved sex. What he’d gotten was a curvy blonde who craved sex and liked to act dumb because he liked it when she did. Which was better, a woman who couldn’t think for herself or a woman who spent her free time thinking about how to please him?

He brooded over the question for weeks, even as he continued to enjoy passionate sex with Kayla, who was becoming even bolder in the bedroom—now she would occasionally push him down on his back and ride him, a position that offered him less stimulation but a spectacular view—and yet seemed, if anything, even more devoted to him. The diet and exercise were starting to show their effects, too: her waist was noticeably narrower, and in early February she confided to him that her old bras no longer fit. She’d gone from a 36DD to a 34D, but the smaller cup size looked no less eye-popping on her slimmed-down torso; her tits had lost a little of their firmness but none of their shape, and her nipples were even more prominent in proportion. The excess fat was almost gone from her thighs, highlighting the roundness of her magnificent ass. Body-wise, she’d gone from zaftig farm girl to pinup-quality knockout. Whenever Troy saw her naked, it was like being granted a blessing from Aphrodite, or maybe Priapus. Though she saved the schoolgirl skirts for her playtimes with Troy, the pencil skirts and heels began making more frequent appearances in her everyday wardrobe. She turned more heads than ever, but her own head was turned only toward Troy.

Well . . . not only toward Troy. That was the problem: Most of the time, her head was turned toward her books. She sat next to Troy in Operations Management but spent most of the class taking meticulous notes. She asked Professor Chashka follow-up questions and hypotheticals. She approached projects and papers—all of them—with a discipline that Troy had only ever managed to sustain at his most focused. She confessed wishing she had more time to spend with Troy, yet she refused to let her coursework slide. She even came over to the apartment from time to time for homework and study sessions with Justin, leaving Troy feeling like the third wheel—at least until they closed their books and she crawled into Troy’s bed for the night.

Troy’s own grades started to slip. Not in Real Estate, which he couldn’t get enough of and always tackled first, but in Investments, Forecasting, and especially Information Systems, which he’d found boring to begin with. Kayla sweetly tried to help him with Operations Management, which she seemed to be grasping better than he did, but it galled him that he should need help from her, and she got sidetracked by her own sexual arousal when they were alone together. His preoccupation with his level of control over Kayla was taking its toll on his mood: at the slightest provocation, he would be cynical, confrontational, and irrational, daring the world to knock the chip off his shoulder. In early March, when Professor Sargento returned an essay Troy had written for Forecasting with a grade of 60 and the comment, “Do you really believe what you’re saying here?” he realized how badly he’d let things get out of hand. He wanted Kayla—all of her. He had her body and her heart, but he didn’t have her mind.

Later that month, after one of their lively sexual encounters, Kayla spooned up against Troy and said, soberly, “Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Do you ever wonder if we’re doing things for the right reasons?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, like me. I majored in marketing because . . . well, I don’t know why. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But I’m taking these courses in market analysis and consumer behavior, and . . . it just seems like so much of what we do involves taking advantage of people. Getting them to do things they don’t necessarily want to do or that might not be good for them. Like, sneaking past their conscious thought processes and triggering something inside them that makes them act on impulse, without thinking things out. And I’m thinking, is this something I really want to do to people? Is it right to do this for a living?”

Troy barely heard her last couple of sentences; the phrase “sneaking past their conscious thought processes” had set off klaxons in his head. Had Kayla found the VM-Stim and its “instruction” booklet? Did she know what he’d done? Or had she figured out what was happening to her on her own?

“Troy, are you okay?” Kayla turned around to face him and held him gently. “You look freaked out. What’s the matter?”

Troy struggled to come up with words that would express his panic without revealing his secret. “Why are you asking these questions?” was the best he could do.

“I . . . I don’t know. I guess I’ve been asking a lot of questions lately. Thinking about things in new ways. Maybe it’s the philosophy class. You know, I always thought right and wrong was kind of a you-scratch-my-back, I-scratch-yours thing. You’re nice, I’m nice. You’re an asshole to me, I’m a bitch to you. Do what people expect you to do, don’t do what makes them angry. But now I’m thinking about laws and principles, how do we decide what’s good and bad, what does the people most good, what if everyone acted the same way, what’s morality and what’s just customs, and it’s like the questions just lead to more questions . . . but I want to follow them. I want to see where they take me. And they’re taking me places I haven’t been before, Troy. New places, where things that didn’t use to matter do matter. And I’m starting to feel like maybe I’ve been doing a lot of things just because I thought I was supposed to, but maybe I wasn’t really supposed to. Does that make sense?”

Troy felt his temper rising again. “What the fuck are you talking about, Kayla? What has gotten into you? What is this bullshit? Is this you I’m talking to, or is it Justin?”

“Justin?” Kayla said. “Who said anything about Justin? We’re not talking about Justin, we’re talking about me. Were you even listening to what I was saying?”

“I couldn’t fucking believe what I was fucking hearing. Are you saying you’re all finished with me now? You’re going to run off and be a fucking hippie or something and make beads and protest Starbucks?”

“Jesus, Troy, what’s wrong with you?” Kayla wailed. “I’m . . . I’m trying to share something intimate with you, something that’s important to me, and you’re talking like a psycho! You’re really scaring me. I think I’d better go now.” She got up from the bed and began picking her clothes up off the floor.

Troy opened the drawer and took out the VM-Stim. “Kayla.”

“What?” she said, turning around.

Troy pressed the button, and the strobe light flashed. Kayla’s face blanked.

“Kayla, you will never question me. You will never question what I say to you. You belong to me. You’re mine. Your body is mine, and your mind is mine. You don’t belong to anyone or anything but me. Now come back to bed.”

Kayla didn’t move at first, until Troy stood up, took her elbow and pulled her forward. He lowered her in the bed beside him and watched her breathe, glassy-eyed, her nipples beginning to tighten and rise up. For the first time, he began to feel qualms. He’d liked the pliable, submissive Kayla better than the bitchy Kayla, but the engaged, passionate, vivacious Kayla had grown on him. Looking at her now, entranced, was like looking at a breathing doll. If he fucked her now, would he be having sex with a person? It suddenly struck him, queasily, as being almost like necrophilia. Nobody was home, and the lights were dim.

His eyes roamed over her naked body—the body that had been shaped, in part, by his command. The perfect hourglass figure, its ideal proportions revealed as if by a sculptor’s chisel. Her sublime arousal, her receptivity to nature’s drive. Unconsciously, his hand followed his eyes, sliding down her ribs, along her waist, over her hip. I love this body, he realized. I am in love with this body. I must possess this body. I can’t ever let it go.

“Kayla,” he whispered, “I don’t want to let you go. I can’t let you go. Don’t go.”

His fingers trailed from her hip over her thigh to her pussy, and as it felt the slickness of her lips, she inhaled sharply and seized him to her, like a creature animated by lightning. She planted her mouth on his and devoured him. She twisted her body as if trying to get on her hands and knees, but the way they were lying, the way she was holding him, she couldn’t do it. She grabbed his dick and jacked it until it hardened, then pushed him down on his back, aimed him at her opening, and sank down with an involuntary cry. She lay her torso down on his, holding herself up on her hands and knees while he lay beneath her, and slammed herself back on his cock energetically. Her skin was so hot, so feverish, Troy felt like he was having sex with a devil. Her cunt gripped and grasped his cock; he felt her lips slide up to the head, then come back down to engulf his full length, again and again. She was on her third or fourth orgasm in less than ten minutes when the come rose in his shaft and erupted into her. Even then, she didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop clutching him. His half-hard dick sustained her through yet another grunting, groaning orgasm before she collapsed on top of him, gasping.

“Ahhhww . . . waah . . . " she panted. “Wa—water! Water! Tr—Troy . . . ”

He pushed her off him and went to the kitchen to fill a water glass. He brought it back to her, and she gulped it down, spilling some on the sheets and her own chest.

“Did . . . did I faint?” she asked weakly. “I feel feverish. Dizzy. My head is swimming. We were talking—" She paused to collect her thoughts. “We were having sex, and then talking . . . or were we talking and then having sex? I don’t remember. What happened?”

“Yeah, you passed out,” Troy said. “You came so hard, you just collapsed.”

“Wow.” Kayla shook her head. “I feel . . . huh.” She looked at Troy. “Troy, do you mind if I just go to sleep? I can’t think right now. I’m exhausted.”

“Sure,” Troy said. “Sleep it off. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Thanks.” She snuggled into the pillow. “Right now, I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

She woke him in the morning with a gentle, teasing blowjob, swallowing his come and bathing his cock clean as if it were a popsicle. “Morning, loverboy. As much as I hate it, I’ve got to go to Info Systems now. I’ll see you later.” She stood up at the foot of the bed and dressed deliberately, giving him a long look at her well-toned ass. “I’ll be by later for my nymphomania injection.”

In Operations Management, Troy noticed that Kayla’s classroom behavior had changed again. She took fewer notes, mainly noting key concepts, and asked fewer questions, though her attention remained riveted on the professor and she occasionally piped up with an insightful observation. She also leaned toward him from time to time to make a playful comment or to remark on the application or implication of something Chashka had just said. Troy appreciated the extra attention, but he began to worry that his most recent commands during Kayla’s VM-Stim trance hadn’t stuck.

Still, she made more time for Troy than she had in previous weeks, both for going out and for going in. She began to tease him with hints of what she would do for him, initiated sex herself more often, shared more and more adventurous fantasies with him, and rarely worried about anything in his presence anymore. She made frequent references to her own “nymphomania,” some joking, some seemingly sincere. And she started hinting that she might stay in town over the summer to be with him rather than go home to her family. “Just think, lover,” she said to Troy, “twelve weeks with a nymphomaniac, and no classes to distract her. You’ll come home from your summer job at the bank, and there’ll be your blond bimbo slut, waiting for you to ravish her, waiting for you to use her, waiting to make you light up like a Christmas tree in July. Your own live-in sex pet.” She pouted in mock concern. “I hope it’ll be enough for me.“

The idea put a smile on Troy’s face well into April. But about a week before finals, the bubble popped again when Kayla appeared at Troy’s door, beaming. She bounced in and hugged him tightly, waving a computer printout.

“I got in!” she enthused. “Supposedly it fills up fast, but I just made it in. Eighteenth out of twenty seats.”

“What class?”

“Philosophy of Human Rights. Professor Tripp. Justin said it doesn’t get offered often enough, and it’s popular, so it’s hard to get in. But I did!” She saw Troy’s face sour. “Troy, please don’t start. This is something I’m interested in, something I think is important. I want to know that you support me.”

“Support you?” Troy said. “What the fuck? Do I know you? I used to know this girl named Kayla, and I thought I knew what she was all about. And now, here’s someone who looks like her, who’s on this trip about ethics and human rights and shit, and now, what, is she going to run off and join Greenpeace? Fucking Amnesty International? Start telling me I’m some earth-raping corporate tool? I don’t know what this is. You’re mine. You’re supposed to be mine.“ He stalked off toward the bedroom.

“Troy, I am yours,” said Kayla, following him. “We talked about it, remember? I’m supposed to stay with you this summer. I don’t want to go anywhere, because you’re here. I’m just trying—what is that?“

Troy had the VM-Stim in his hand and raised it toward Kayla’s face. “Don’t point that thing at me!” screamed Kayla, pivoting and ducking just in time to avoid getting zapped. She saw the light of the strobe flicker on the wall behind her.

“Troy,” Kayla said slowly, still facing away, “I don’t know what that thing is or what you were planning to do with it, but you are really testing my trust in you.”

“This?” Troy said lamely. “This is . . . " As usual, his imagination failed him. " . . . for, uh, relaxation.”

“Oh. You think I need to relax. Troy, you may think I’m an airhead, but I do notice things. Like, lately I’ve realized that every time you disagree with me or get angry about something, there’s a hole in my memory, and I can’t remember how we worked it out. Is that what that thing is, Troy? Is it supposed to wipe my memory, so that I can’t remember disagreeing with you?”

“No!”

“Well, I’m sorry, Troy, I want to believe you, I really, really do, but I would have to be a stupid bimbo to think that thing you’re holding is a relaxation device. You’re angry that I’m making my own choices about what classes to take, and you storm off and come back with that in your hand. What am I supposed to think it does? If I didn’t have such faith in you, Troy, I’d have to conclude that you were trying to brainwash me.”

“That’s enough,” said Troy, his temper rising. “You belong to me, Kayla.”

“Yes, Troy, but it’s my choice to belong to you,” retorted Kayla. “I belong to you because I care about you and trust you and love you. And yeah, I’m hot for you, too. But Troy, you do not own me. You don’t own my mind or my soul. And as much as I need you, there are questions I have right now that I need some time to answer before I know you’re worthy of my trust. So let’s answer one right now. Let’s see what kind of man you are, Troy. You can pin me down and use that brainwashing machine on me and make me your ignorant puppet, or you can show me that you respect me the way I respect you, and give that thing to me.”

“Kayla,” said Troy, suddenly fearful, “you wouldn’t—”

“Of course I wouldn’t, Troy,” Kayla snapped, “I just took a whole class on ethics, and I think I’m getting an A in it, if you can believe that. I’m not going to brainwash you. I just need to be sure that you’re not going to brainwash me. Any more than you already have.”

Troy wavered. He had seventy pounds on her; he probably could pin her down and use the VM-Stim on her. But the device had already had unexpected effects, and he had no way of predicting where this would go. Could he be sure she wouldn’t continue to act like her studies were more important than he was? Would she remember what he’d done and resent it? Would rubbing out her free will destroy the better qualities of her personality that had emerged? Tug on one string, you had no idea which others would unravel.

It all came back, once again, to risk assessment. One the one hand, the panoply of unknowns that came with using the VM-Stim on her by force. On the other, a disconcertingly independent personality—combined with an irrepressible sex drive and an evident desire to follow him wherever he led, as long as she could make her own side trips along the way. The devil he knew. Sort of.

Was he willing to risk destroying everything rather than give in? Was the cost of staying in control worth it?

He noticed that Kayla was trembling.

He let out a huffy, defeated sigh and tossed the VM-Stim at Kayla’s feet.

Slowly, she kneeled down and picked it up. She turned around. There were tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Troy,” she said. “This helps. Really, it does.” She took a breath. “I’m going to go now, Troy. I’m not going to stay here with you this summer. I’m not even going to see you during finals. I need some time to myself to get things straightened out. I’m going to see whether Professor Chashka can give me the lecture notes for the last several classes. I think it’s better if you don’t try to call me or visit me this summer. I’m sorry, Troy. It has to be this way.” She opened the front door. “But for what it’s worth, I do look forward to seeing you in the fall.”

The door closed.