The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Paths criss-crossed the upper quad like the strands of a spider’s web, but Lindsay cut across the right one with the confidence of the spider itself. She had only lived here, gone to school here for six months, but already she was beginning to think of the campus of Vinebeck University as home. She felt special in that; so many of her high school friends and fellow freshman that she talked to felt adrift in their new surroundings, aimless or distracted or overwhelmed, but Lindsay had always been above petty worries like that. She was destined for great things, and nothing as plebeian as college culture shock was going to slow her down.

The red brick path pointed her straight as an arrow toward Vana Hall, her black ballet flats padding her swiftly along. A black marble plaque served as a sign by the front door to the venerable brick building. Counseling and Student Development. Lindsay grinned at the sight. She’d been trying to get this appointment since the middle of last semester. Now, already well into the spring, she’d finally managed to make it happen. Onward and upward, Linsday thought with satisfaction, her own personal motto. School was everything, and a meeting like this could really give her a leg up if it went well.

She followed the directions she’d received in her appointment email and found herself outside a polished door of heavily grained wood. Is that teak? She swelled with pride for her chosen school, as she so often did. Vinebeck was as rich a school as it was aged, every building filled with vibrant history and conspicuous wealth. There was not a cheap tile or uncarved lintel to be found anywhere on campus. Altogether it told a story of prosperity, of students who would go on to enrich the world, and Lindsay was proud every day to be a part of that community.

Lindsay took a breath and smoothed down her blouse. She’d dressed in a classic casual academic style, a powder blue blouse over dark, cropped skinny jeans. Her honey-colored hair was pulled back in a tight French braid to the nape of her neck. She could walk into an LSAT test or a pottery workshop and look appropriate for both. She rapped smartly on the door and opened it when a voice inside called a soft, “come in.”

The interior of Kincaid’s office was as well-appointed as the door would suggest. Coffee-colored wood paneling covered walls and floor, while first edition books stood neatly on built-in shelves around the room. The desk looked like it weighed a metric ton, carved with a bas relief of some mythological scene, babies cavorting with deer in the wilderness.

Kincaid himself sat behind the desk, standing to offer Lindsay a hand as she entered. “You must be Lindsay Reston,” he said with a warm smile. “It’s great to meet you. Pyle Kincaid, but I prefer if you just ignore the first name.” The joke was was worn over and comfortable from overuse. Kincaid looked to be in his mid-forties, with an easy strength that suggested a retired athlete and the knowing eyes of a born social worker. Lindsay liked him immediately.

“Glad to meet you as well,” Lindsay said, sliding into the chair that he offered her across from him. “I feel like this is the end of an era, all my emails and calls finally coming to fruition.”

Kincaid looked embarrassed. “I apologize for that. The counseling department does a lot of unconventional work here, and we’re always stretched thin. Plus, at the risk of sounding immodest, I get a lot of targeted appointment requests.”

“Well, they say you’re the best,” Lindsay chuckled, feeling a bit like she was in an old action movie. “And right now, your country needs you one last time.”

Kincaid laughed along with her. “I really do try to see everyone promptly. And besides, you’re still in your first year. Plenty of people still have uncertainties at your stage. We’re going to be able to put you on the right path, no problem. I feel certain.”

“I really hope so. It’s a competitive world out there, and I want to make sure I don’t fall behind the front of the pack.” There was no sense in false humility here, nor for overconfidence. Lindsay had always been the brightest student in her class, but she’d gone from a small pond to an ocean recently, and she couldn’t let past successes lull her into complacency. That was how burnouts and disappointments came to be.

“That’s the spirit,” Kincaid agreed, opening a folder that had been sitting on his desk. Lindsay caught a glimpse inside it for just a moment. It was her file, the infamous “permanent record” that was used as a boogeyman to frighten disobedient students all through their academic careers. Inside it should have every pertinent detail about her young life: grades, extracurriculars, past reports from teachers and conferences, all her many awards… There was even a headshot clipped to the top page, photos from both her high school and college IDs.

For a split second she thought she saw a third picture there, tucked under the others. Not an official portrait from a school, but one pulled from social media. She thought she recognized it, that one that Brandon had taken of her last summer on that beach trip, where she’d posed like goofball in her yellow bikini, the one with the cutout bandeau top and the chain clasped bottoms. She’d been pretending to model on the beach, laughing drunkenly as she did her best impression of some ditzy swimsuit model being kissed by the waves and sand. She’d been so embarrassed about that pic, but her friends said she looked amazing, so it had gone on her feed. The comments had been mortifying. Way too much attention being paid to her body, even if it was all sizzlingly complimentary. Lindsay had always gotten that kind of attention whether she wanted it or not, and she almost always didn’t. She was an academic, not a starlet wannabe. She worked hard to keep in shape, but that was so that her body could be well and perform at track competitions, not so people would ogle her more appreciatively.

She thought she recognized that picture, but dismissed it in a moment. There’s no way that would be in her counseling file. She’d just imagined it, probably because Cassie had put the hard sell on going swimsuit shopping yet again yesterday. Lindsay loved her roommate dearly, but she was too focused on boys and not enough on schoolwork. Now that conversation was causing figments to jump into Lindsay’s imagination. She put it out of her mind as Kincaid started talking her through her file.

“First off, let me say congratulations on everything you’ve done so far,” the counselor began. “Your GPA is absolutely flawless, and from the Rosewood Academy at that. I’m always glad to see a Rosewood graduate in here, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one with your academic record.” Lindsay beamed at the praise, but the counselor wasn’t done. “And a Van Hosen Grant. First time we’ve had a Van Hosen grand prize winner here in at least a decade.” He continued to run down the page, though it was clear he’d already read it in detail. “National Merit, MacArthur Finalist… This is quite a rap sheet you’ve got. With this sort of record backing you up, there’s no reason that you can’t have pretty much any future you choose to pursue.”

The only type of praise that Lindsay got more consistently than leers and compliments over her appearance was this time of admiration for her academic accomplishments. The praise was like a security blanket, a well-worn teddy bear from childhood that brought nostalgic comfort whenever it was lovingly taken down from the shelf.

“Thank you. It’s been a lot of work, but I’m glad to say that it feels like it’s paying off in a big way,” she said. “As for what future I’m pursuing, it’s all laid out right there. I think with my background in both green technology solutions and entrepreneurship, I could be really well-situated to make an impact on the sustainable energy R&D sector.” She stopped there before she got into her favorite rant about industrial scale battery storage solutions, which had been the basis for her coveted Van Hosen grant.

“I don’t doubt you would,” Kincaid agreed. Lindsay thought she saw something mournful creep into his warm, fatherly eyes. They were very distinguished looking, cheerful crows feet framing deep green irises. “The next important question is, why?”

Lindsay hadn’t been prepared for that. “Why?” she repeated him.

Kincaid shrugged, his open-collar dress shirt hugging his shoulders nicely. “The path that you’ve placed yourself on is a lot of hard work for an uncertain reward. I can open some doors to help speed you along—not that you strictly need the help—but either way I want to make sure that you’re considering all your options. Seeing the whole board, so to speak.”

Lindsay had been sure of her path in this world since she was a little girl, but she hadn’t come here just to shut down the campus career guru before he could try to help. “What other options?”

Kincaid pursed his lips for a moment, considering. “Lindsay, what’s your social life like here on campus? Are you fitting in all right?”

Lindsay was taken off-guard by the left turn of a question. “Pretty active, I think. I mean, I’m not going out and partying every night like some people I know, but I’ve made some pretty good friends, and we have a nice time. The track team has been really good for me in that way. Sort of an instant social circle, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Kincaid nodded. “I was a shot putter back in my day.”

“Oh, cool! I do pole vault, mainly.”

Kincaid waggled Lindsay’s file knowingly. “I know.”

Lindsay smiled at the repartee. “Of course, of course.”

“What about dating?” Kincaid continued. “Do you have a boyfriend?” A flicker of sourness came over Lindsay’s face, but she pushed it away. He was just trying to get an idea for the gestalt of her life, instead of just focusing on academics. It was a common counseling technique, she was sure.

“No, no one special. I’ve met a few potentials, but no one who could really catch my interest enough for me to want to put the time in.” She shrugged. “I’m by no means a hermit, but dating isn’t a huge priority for me, to be honest.”

“That’s a shame,” Kincaid said. “The boys around campus must be just devastated.”

Lindsay blushed bright red at that. Kincaid seemed like a nice enough guy, and clearly good at his job, but she wished that she could go anywhere, anywhere in this life without people trying to make everything about her looks.

She remembered a conversation that she’d had with her mother, years ago. Lindsay had been out at a Starbucks when a modeling agent had given her his card and tried to recruit her for some teen modeling competition. It had been flattering and, most amazingly, it had been on the level, but Lindsay’s mother had squashed her curiosity immediately. “Men are always going to try to reduce you to your appearance,” she had said. “If you let that happen, you’ll never get away from it. A girl who looks like you has to work ten times as hard to be taken seriously.”

Lindsay had been offended at the time, but she had to admit that her mother had been proven right in the end. Now it seems that obsession with Lindsay’s beauty had even seeped into what should be a purely intellectual meeting.

“I don’t know about all that,” Lindsay demurred. She wanted to get this meeting back on track, toward her science and entrepreneurship goals.

“You’re too modest.” Kincaid’s bright green eyes seemed to pulse for a moment, distorting into his face and back so quickly that Lindsay wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “Surely you must know how you look. You’re such a classic beauty. Tall, athletic, naturally blonde. Muscular and lean while still feminine. You’re gorgeous, frankly.”

Lindsay squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, anxious to get out from under this man’s suddenly intense gaze. “I don’t… I don’t think that’s very appropriate,” she said in a mousy voice. This meeting had started off so well. How was it already degenerating into borderline sexual harassment.

Kincaid waited in silence until Lindsay met his eyes once again. “You don’t need to feel that way, Lindsay. I’m your guidance counselor. You should feel comfortable talking to me about anything and everything.”

Those eyes pulsed again, disorienting Lindsay. She blinked hard, trying to shake off a brief wave of vertigo. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she answered. She felt suddenly silly for even bringing it up. Kincaid was just being complimentary, building up her self-esteem. That was part of his job, after all. “I’m just a little nervous about this whole process, I guess.” She hadn’t felt that way walking in, but it made sense in retrospect.

“It’s totally all right,” Kincaid said. “I understand that you might be used to compartmentalizing, sweeping some parts of yourself under the rug so they don’t distract you. But part of what causes people to end up on unsatisfying career paths is that they often ignore important parts of themselves, things that are intrinsic to their identities.

“Like with you,” he continued. “You’re such a sexy girl, and that sexiness is something that you can’t ignore.”

Lindsay blushed harder, but it only made Kincaid smile, a toothy smirk that was smug for a reason Lindsay couldn’t fathom. “That’s what brought you to my attention in the first place, in fact,” Kincaid said.

That took a moment to sink in with Lindsay. Kincaid seemed perfectly content to let her mull it over as he stood up and casually walked around the desk to the door. Lindsay watched him turn the deadbolt in the solid wooden door. The blinds were already closed, she noted.

“You wanted to meet with me because you think I’m sexy?” Lindsay was crestfallen. Was her record not enough to warrant attention on its own merits?

“Absolutely.” Kincaid’s eyes pulsed into Lindsay’s as if to say that that was a perfectly natural reason for a guidance counselor to take an interest in a student. “There are tons of gifted students that come to this university, but so few of them have your other gifts to work with. It makes you a special case that deserves special attention. We need to make sure you’re really presenting your best, truest self to the world.”

Lindsay forced herself to breathe. Kincaid’s eyes were throbbing more continuously now, in time with her increasingly throbbing head. “Do you think that I’m not doing that?” she asked cautiously.

Kincaid nodded as he sat down again, this time on the edge of his desk just inches from Lindsay. “I do have some concerns. Like your dating life, for example. I look at you and I see a girl who needs a lot of male attention. Yet there you are, ignoring an entire campus, an entire world of potential partners, all so you can narrow-mindedly focus on your studies.”

The criticism cut Lindsay like a knife. “But isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Focus on my studies?” Her normally stubborn will was shaken by the turn this had taken, by the ceaseless aching of her head, by the dizzying perspective of the counselor’s eyes changing.

“You’re supposed to do whatever makes you happy,” Kincaid countered. “That’s the whole point of life, right? To be happy?”

“And to help others be happy,” she agreed. It was a pretty pedestrian way to boil down a whole category of philosophic thought, but it worked for the moment.

“I stand corrected,” Kincaid said graciously. “Don’t you think that you’d be happier if you let yourself enjoy life a little more? If you enjoyed men a little more?”

Looking up into the counselor’s eyes, beating like emerald hearts, Lindsay felt a pang that she was wholly unfamiliar with. She had a healthy sexual appetite, like anyone would, but deprioritizing her love life had never seemed like all that much of a sacrifice. There was too much going on in the world, too much need and curiosity for her to lose herself in schoolgirl crushes or garden variety horniness.

But now, at Kincaid’s suggestion, Lindsay began to wonder if she hadn’t been missing out on a big part of the college experience. Of her young life, really. Everyone she knew was amassing tons of dating experience, wild stories and broken hearts that provided the texture to a life well-lived. Lindsay wasn’t entirely without her own experience, but she was definitely depriving herself by putting those things on the back burner.

“Maybe I would,” Lindsay admitted, squirming in her chair, uncomfortable with the discussion.

Kincaid sensed her discomit and cooed to calm her down. “It’s all right, Lindsay. I know that some of these things we’re talking about might seem strange to you, but you can be comfortable here. Only good things happen here. You can talk to me. You can listen to me, all without being the slightest bit ill at ease.”

It was a little patronizing of him to say, but as her heart pulsed in time with his eyes, Lindsay found herself believing him. It was a powerful claim, making this a safe space, letting her put all her worry aside for the sake of putting herself on the right and true path.

“I’m sorry,” she offered. “It’s just unexpected. You’re different than any counselor I’ve seen in the past.”

“Better at my job, I hope. And maybe a bit more handsome.”

“Of course,” Lindsay smiled, glad that he could wave away her awkwardness so easily.

“It’s got to be tough for you.” Kincaid looked almost sad for her. “Your sexuality is such a huge part of who you are—the best part, in fact—and yet you’ve been told your whole life to tamp it down and focus on other, weaker parts of yourself. That’s a hard lesson to unlearn, for most people.”

“What do you mean, the best part of me?” Lindsay was suddenly very aware of her blouse and jeans and shoes, of her bra and panties, of how Kincaid loomed over her as he leaned on his desk.

“Let’s try an exercise,” Kincaid said by way of an answer. He pulled a sheaf of papers out of a drawer in his deck and scanned through the top page. “I’m going to say a few words. After each word, you tell me how much you think that word applies to you, on a scale of one to five. One is strongly disagree, five strongly agree, and so on. Got it?”

“Got it.” This was just test taking. This was something that Lindsay understood.

“Conscientious,” Kincaid started.

“Five,” Lindsay answered.

“Organized.”

“Five.”

“Creative.”

“Four.” No sense pretending to be perfect.

“Friendly.”

“Four.”

“Helpful.”

“Five.”

“People-focused.”

“Three.” Kincaid paused at that as if he wanted to say something, but he let it go.

“Social.”

“Four.”

“Romantic.”

“Um. Four.”

“Sexual.”

“Three.”

This time the pause lasted longer. Kincaid stared into her eyes. “I think you’re more sexual than that. I can tell just by looking at you. Much more. Isn’t that right?”

Lindsay blinked heavily, trying to clear the vertigo from her vision. As she did, she thought about the few boyfriends she’d had. The many, many more times that she’d pleasured herself before falling asleep, alone under the covers with eager, exploring fingers. How good it felt to cum, to touch herself, to be touched in that way. She couldn’t deny that it was a powerful draw, though she’d been trying to do just that up to this point in her life. Far more powerful than just about anything she could think of.

“Five,” she corrected herself. “I’m super sexual.”

“That’s what I thought. How about ‘inhibited.’”

“Four.”

Kincaid tsked. “Lindsay, I think you’re losing focus. What I said was, “inhibited.” Knowing how sexual you are, how much you love the attention of men, that must be a low number for you. Because you love being wantonly sexual, rules be damned.”

Lindsay had never thought of herself that way. Plus, wasn’t she supposed to be giving the answers, and he receiving them without judgment?

But it did make sense. She loved sex so much. People loved how she looked so much. They always approved and encouraged her to express her sexuality. Why would she have inhibitions around that? Who would that help?

“One,” she said with more confidence. “I’m not at all inhibited.”

“Good, you’re doing so well. I think we’re making some breakthroughs here. Only a couple more: Receptive.”

“Five.”

That pleased Kincaid. “I bet you do max that out. You’re such a good learner. In fact, you’re learning so much today, and doing so well at it. You just want to listen and be receptive to everything I say, don’t you?”

The books seemed to shake on the shelves in time with Kincaid’s eyes. It was a wonder they weren’t flying around the room. “Yes,” Lindsay said in a small voice. She wondered why she was taking such deep breaths. “I’m totally receptive to what you say.”

“I’m so glad to hear it. I’m here to guide you toward a better life, and it’s so hard to do that with students who are resistant. But you’re not, are you? Resistant.”

“One.”

“Perfect. Weak.”

“One.”

Kincaid cocked his head as if to say, Are you sure? Lindsay considered. She had always been such a strong person. Driven, intelligent, self-possessed. How could she be weak?

After she had been silent too long, Kincaid folded his arms across his chest, leaning down toward her. His eyes seemed to grow disproportionately when he moved. “Lindsay, you don’t have to put on a show for anyone right now. There’s no one to see. You can admit the truth about how weak you are. I know you put on a big show, with your awards and your scholarships and your ambitions. But deep down, you’re weak and vulnerable and you need guidance. You need support. You’re pliable. Controllable. You know that in your heart of hearts, don’t you?”

Lindsay bit her lip, trying to process what he was saying. This simple career counseling session had gone down a much more difficult road than she had anticipated. She’d taken some traditional therapy back in middle school, and they hadn’t proceeded anywhere near this quickly. He must be some kind of genius. It didn’t occur to her that he might be moving so fast because he was just plain wrong. Kincaid wasn’t wrong about anything. She needed to be receptive to what he was saying.

“Yes,” she admitted sadly. “I know that. I just… I didn’t realize before.”

“So. Weak.”

“Five.”

“Good girl. You did so well at that exercise. Don’t you feel like you’re learning a lot about yourself.” Lindsay nodded, mind racing as much as it could with that distracting throbbing all around. It had moved beyond the counselor’s eyes and now seemed to infect her entire field of vision no matter what she did. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we? Let’s see just how sexual and receptive you are. Stand up.”

Kincaid moved back from where he had been leaning against his desk to give Lindsay room to stand. She did, carefully smoothing down her blouse as Kincaid continued to talk.

“For this test, we’re going to pick something that a normal woman would refuse. Something out of the ordinary. That way, when you do it, you’ll have proof of how different you are than most people. This could be a really powerful tool toward discovering what you truly want in life. Ready to get started?”

Lindsay admired the way that Kincaid guided her through each step of his counseling process gently. He explained exactly what he was doing, his thought process and methodology, so there would be no surprises and Lindsay could learn the absolute most that she possibly could. He rarely made declarations of his own, instead asking Lindsay if she wanted to proceed with any given course of action. It really was a great example of sensitivity and restraint in the counseling field. She nodded happily, fully ready to begin.

“Great. This task will be very simple. Take off your clothes.”

Lindsay hesitated. “My clothes?”

“It’s not difficult.” Kincaid’s warm smile told her he understood her hesitancy. “You can keep your underwear on. But the shoes, jeans, and top need to go.”

“But… why?” she asked, embarrassed that she didn’t get it.

“Because I want to see your body,” Kincaid explained, as if to a child. “I want to see just how sexy you can be. Didn’t you tell me earlier that you like being sexy?”

Lindsay remembered something like that. Or had he told her that she liked that? What was the difference, really.

“Remember, Lindsay, you came to me.” Her counselor’s voice was sterner now. He was not putting up with foolishness from her. Clearly he had inner reserves of strength that she just could not compete with. “You asked me to help you down the path of your perfect career, and I’m more than happy to do that for you. But for me to help, you have to participate in the process. I’m your guidance counselor, and you need to listen to me. You need to believe that I tell you. You need to do what I tell you.”

The room undulated around those brilliant green eyes of his, scrambling any thought that Lindsay might have had about saying no. I’m so weak. So pliable.

“Of course,” she said with a shy smile. “I want this process to work.”

Without needing further encouragement, Lindsay kicked off her flats and shimmied out of her clothes. Her pants she tossed aside, followed by her blouse after she slowly unbuttoned it. Once they were off, she took the time to fold them properly and set them on a nearby shelf. She was weak and uninhibited, not messy.

She turned back to Kincaid to find his eyes devouring her body. She was down to just her underwear, a set of lace, baby blue boy shorts that clung to her lean legs and muscular ass, plus a matching balconette bra that graciously supported her high, full breasts. A thin sheet of muscle was visible down her stomach, her pale waist flaring out slightly to her hips.

“Oh, Lindsay,” Kincaid said with a wicked smile. “That’s so good. You’re doing wonderfully. So much better than any student I’ve had in ages.”

Lindsay’s smile shone at the praise. The approval of authority figures had always been important to her, especially if they were related to school somehow.

“How does it feel to express your sexuality like this?” Kincaid asked. “Taking your clothes off in an unusual place? Putting your body on display for a man you just met?”

Lindsay thought about it. It was a strange situation, but the strangest thing of all was that she didn’t feel bad about it at all. She felt amazing, in fact. It was really freeing getting to show off her true, hypersexual, uninhibited self this way. Especially when it elicited such compliments from those around her. “Pretty great!” she chirped. “I’m just glad that we’re making progress.”

“Oh yes,” Kincaid agreed. “Great progress.” He surreptitiously ran his hand along the front of his pants, where Lindsay thought she might have seen the start of a bulge forming. She blushed, but she couldn’t blame the guy. She was standing in his locked office taking off her clothes for him. “In fact, I think you might have a stronger calling than I had even realized.”

“What do you mean?” Lindsay was glad that it was nice and warm in the office. She could have easily gotten chilly this way.

“I’ve learned a lot about you today, Lindsay. My job requires me to be very observant and intuitive about people, and I think I know you very well by this point.” His eyes bored into hers. “In fact, I know you better than you know yourself.”

That would definitely be a trick. They had only known each other for maybe twenty minutes. “You think so?”

“One hundred percent. I know you much, much better than anyone else ever has. Better than you have ever known yourself. And you know what that means, don’t you? It means that when I tell you something about yourself, you should believe it. I’m your guidance counselor, and I know you perfectly. I only want the best for you. So if I tell you something about yourself, even if it sounds wrong to you, you know that it must be right, because I know you so well and I would never steer you wrong. That’s how this process works. How do you feel about that?”

“Sounds good to me,” Lindsay said with no hesitation. That was a given, a totally reasonable assumption given their relationship. “I’m just glad that I have you here to help me. I would never have known any of this about myself if not for you.”

“I’m glad you came to me, too. You’ve been on completely the wrong path. But it’s not too late to set things right.”

Lindsay’s jaw dropped. “Is it that bad? Where have I been going wrong?”

“Honey, Lindsay, you’ve been focusing on academics this whole time, but that’s not what you’re about. Not really, not deep down.”

“Not about academics at all? I thought maybe you’d say switch majors, or…”

“No. That wouldn’t fix your problem. I don’t think you should really even be in school at all.”

Lindsay blanched. It was like hearing her leg would need to be amputated. School was all she’d ever known, her springboard to the wonders of invention and a purposeful life. To leave it would be unthinkable. “W-what?” she managed to stammer.

“I can tell that you’re probably feeling upset,” Kincaid said, full of warmth and empathy. Exactly the kind of person who was deserving of trust. “Sometimes when we’re on the wrong path in life, there can be growing pains to setting ourselves right. I know you so well, I know exactly what you’re going through, but I promise you that you’re going to be alright very soon. Just breathe, ok? Just breathe and be calm and listen to me.”

Lindsay tried to do just that, her ragged panic breaths smoothing out as she counted the seconds. She was glad that she was at least stripped down to her underwear. It always made her feel better to be on display.

“Good… That’s a good girl. Just breathe and listen to me. You know that I only want what’s best for you. You know that before you came to me, you were in danger of living a very unhappy life. A life full of work and stress and anxiety. You don’t want that. You need my guidance to be your best self, and you know that you need to listen to your counselor. You need to listen to me and believe me. The only way for you to be happy is for you think and act exactly as I say. You want to do that, don’t you? You want to live a happy life, so you need to really internalize everything that I tell you.”

Lindsay nodded along with him, accepting that rich, deep pulsing of his eyes into her mind. He was so gentle, like a kindly uncle, wise beyond his years yet still accessible. Relatable. Lindsay had no trouble accessing a deep trust for this man, making herself as receptive as she could possibly be.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I’ll believe anything you say. I’ll do whatever you tell me to. Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re so welcome. You’re going to be so much happier once you drop out of school and start using your body to make money.”

Lindsay roiled inside, trying to make sense of all of this. “Use my body?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Kincaid stepped closer, hands outstretched to touch her. He started to roam over her body, stroking and massaging her nearly naked form. “A hot little slut like you needs to be used. You’re the most insanely sexual girl I’ve ever met. You’re a weak, obedient whore with a desperate, constant need for cock. Of course you need to use your body to make money.”

Lindsay shuddered in delight. It felt so good to have a man’s hands on her body. She felt open, free at last from the shackles of her inhibitions, now long gone under this incredible man’s expert tutelage. His fingers raked lightly over the thin lace of her bra, her nipples hardening at the mere suggestion of being played with. One of his hands kneaded the tense muscle where her neck met shoulder, while the other ran smoothly down her side to gently squeeze her ass.

“See how good this feels?” Kincaid’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “I was right about you, wasn’t I? You can see how right I was this whole time.”

“Mmm hmm,” Lindsay moaned, reveling in the sensations pinging through her body. “You’re right about everything…”

She felt her bra droop against her shoulders as Kincaid undid the clasp. She let it fall to the floor. Her breasts were large for her athletic frame, seemingly the only soft spots on her lean, corded body, high and perky. Her small pink nipples were already crinkled hard as they pointed straight ahead, as if summoning more attention from the man in front of them.

Kincaid tweaked one nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger and was rewarded by a squeak of pleasure from Lindsay. “You’re so orgasmic. So sensitive,” he said. “It drives you crazy to be touched like this. You can barely think when you feel this good. You can’t resist at all.”

Lindsay couldn’t remember ever having had that experience. She must have suppressed her sexual desire very deep to have had it barely register in her memory. Right now she was practically on fire with Kincaid’s every touch. She needed this so much. She didn’t care what else happened in life, as long as she could be naked and horny.

That feeling multiplied tenfold when Kincaid slid his hands into her panties tugging them gently off of her legs until they pooled on the floor. His finger slid along her slit, and she felt her lips easily parting for him, moisture coating his finger in a second.

“That’s a good girl. So horny. So slutty. Just like you always have been. You can’t escape it, because it’s a part of you. You’ve always wanted to live a life of sexual hedonism. You just wouldn’t let yourself, until now.”

Lindsay knew he was right. She’d been so blind until now. Blinded by what people told her she should and shouldn’t want. By inhibitions that had never been hers to begin with. “I want to… fix that…” She gasped, her pussy lighting up with pleasure as he slid a finger inside her.

“I know you will, sweetheart.” Kincaid reached into his pocket, pulling out his smartphone. “And I know just how to get you started on that.”

Kincaid guided her to a large padded armchair in the corner that served as a reading nook in the office. “Here you go. Just lean back and play with yourself. Explore your body. Let your hands play with your tits, that’s right. And tease your little pussy for me. I’m so glad it’s nice and clean like that. I knew a slut like you must keep herself trimmed up down there.”

She arched her head back, bucking her hips against her own fingers as she pumped them slowly in and out of her needy pussy. She’d masturbated hundreds of times in her life, but it had never been like this. Never out in the open. Never feeling so good. Never with a guidance counselor snapping pictures of her on his phone.

His hand on her face prompted Lindsay to open her eyes. She was greeted to the sight of Kincaid’s cock, fully erect, straining at the empty air in front of her, hovering in front of her face. She looked up at him and was immediately rewarded by the sweet pulsing of those eyes, larger than life, overwhelming.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. I know you want it. You love cock. Feeling it, sucking it, accepting it. Go ahead and do what you want.”

Relief washed over Lindsay. She didn’t have to worry here. In this office, with this man, behind this locked door, she could finally be herself. I can be myself everywhere, now.

With relish she sat up and brought her face to his cock, inhaling deeply to take in that beautiful, manly scent. Then, hungrily, she slid him past her lips and began gently slurping on his shaft, reveling in its strength and power.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Kincaid breathed, relief of his own evident in his voice. “God, I wanted this since I first saw your picture. Looking like a sexy little bikini slut. I knew I was going to love guiding you.” He looked down at her as she sucked his cock, occasionally snapping photos, having her pause to get just the right angle of his slicked up shaft pumping in and out of her soft, full lips. “So fucking hot, and so buttoned-up proper. It’s so much more fun doing this to you, when you start from where you were.”

Lindsay didn’t know what he meant by that, but it hardly mattered. His cock was so fun to explore. It deserved all of her attention. It was big without being uncomfortable, stretching her lips wide as it pushed toward the back of her throat. I love cock. Kincaid had told her so, and he was just as right about that as he was about everything else. I’m so sexual all the time, I can’t deny it any more.

Kincaid wound his fingers through her hair, pulling her tighter onto his cock, gagging her, but she didn’t struggle. She was receptive. She would do what he wanted.

“I’m glad you enjoy this,” he said, thrusting into her throat. “Because you’re going to be doing it a lot. This is the career I picked for you. Having sex on camera for money. We’re going to destroy your old life so you can start over as a devoted, insatiable porn slut.” Those beautiful green eyes shone with malice as he grinned down at her. “You’re never going to be a successful businesswoman. You’ll never invent anything. Everything you ever wanted from your life is gone now. And in its place?” He leaned down close, pulling his cock out of her mouth. “Pleasing cock.”

Kincaid pulled Lindsay out of the chair by her shoulders and pushed her back against his desk. Papers scattered underneath her as she leaned back, legs falling open. Her pussy ached in anticipation. It was like all the repression she had put herself under her entire life was all bubbling to the surface, erupting into her conscious mind. I love cock. I need to be a slut.

Kincaid wasted no time in rolling right over the top of her, his steel-hard cock finding her entrance and slamming home in an instant. Lindsay cried out, pain cutting through her dizzy bliss for just a moment, then easing off as she grew used to the throbbing presence inside of her, pushing her open.

He was not gentle. Not like a counselor at all. Not any more. “This is what you want,” he growled as he pounded her pussy. Sweat began to cover her body in a fine sheen as she took him. “You don’t want to be in school. You don’t want a career in business or technology. You want to drop out and be a porn star. You want to drop out and be a whore.” He gathered one breast in his hand and squeezed with savor. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”

Lindsay rocked back and forth on the desk, taking her counselor’s unprotected cock as hard as he could give it to her. Her eyes rolled back, vision dimming as the room pulsed in time with her heart, with his eyes, with the pounding in her cunt. It was heaven to be used like this. She knew that he was right.

“I’m going to drop out of school,” she panted. “I’m going to give up all my work and focus on getting fucked every day. I’m going to make my life about fucking all the time.”

Kincaid’s outstretched camera caught everything. Every filthy thing out of Lindsay’s mouth. Every detail of her shining abs clenching in pleasure. Of her tits bouncing with their collective thrusting. Of her toned legs spread wide in the air, her tiny pink pussy split apart by her counselor’s churning cock.

“This will go a long way toward helping you,” Kincaid groaned. Lindsay could tell he was getting close to cumming in her. She was already working on her third climax. “I have friends who work in the porn industry. They’ll love to get their hands on a subservient little cockslut like you. Do you have anything to say to the men who are going to hire you to fuck on command?”

Lindsay tried to get her vision to stop swimming long enough to look into the camera. “Please,” she said weakly. “Please use me. Please hire me to do this.”

Kincaid cackled under his breath, then put the camera away and turned Lindsay onto her side. His cock never left her pussy. “Here. Take this.” He handed her a montblanc pen and pulled a typed letter out of the pile of papers underneath her. She couldn’t focus on it very well, being fucked so hard and her vision swirling, but she could see her name at the top.

The counselor abruptly stopped thrusting inside her to give her a moment of stability. “Sign it.” He pointed to a line at the bottom, under her typed name.

“What… what is it?” she asked. Not protesting, just curious.

“This is a letter of confession,” he explained. “By signing this, you’re stating that you’re leaving school because you don’t belong here. Because you plagiarized all your important work. All your admissions essays, all your grant work, all the exams you’ve ever taken here. You cheated and you can’t live with it, so you’re leaving.” His eyes flashed. “This way, you won’t ever be able to come back, even if you tried. No school in the country will take you. Your old life will be permanently destroyed.”

Lindsay gaped at him, but his sadistic grin did not waver. “Sign it. Ruin your life because I told you to.”

She felt drunk, for how difficult it was to focus on the paper. Thankfully, she didn’t need to read it. She just needed to eke out a basic signature. It was just that simple to turn her entire life around. A life of sex and pleasure and obedience. A life of cock and porn. The life she had always wanted but never known it.

“Yes,” she slurred, dazed by his cock as much as his eyes. His shaft still buried to the hilt inside her, she scrawled her name on the appropriate line. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to.” She looked back up at him with loving, grateful eyes. “I need your guidance.”

Her counselor snatched the paper away and put it in a drawer, ready for his attention when he was finally done with her today. But that was still some time away yet. He had yet to cum, and on his desk was a wanton, tight-bodied slut of his own creation. Lindsay looked up at him with need as he flipped her over onto her stomach, kneeling on his desk of papers. She craned her neck, straining to look back into those gorgeous, commanding green eyes as he pounded her from behind like a bitch in heat. She came, a climax roiling through her like waves of heat pouring off of a bonfire. Her first orgasm as a dedicated whore on her true path in life.

The first of many.

THE END