The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Friday, week 2

Nina left the house for her office and wouldn’t be home until 7:00 PM. I got busy and ended up having a productive coding day, also scrubbing all the pots and pans in the sink, loading the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen counters. Dinner tonight would be sausage she brought home from last night’s grill plus orzo and green beans from a meal early in the week, your basic leftover day, plus she made a nice salad. Afterward, I watched an episode of Marvel TV while Nina exercised before bed, then we walked upstairs together at almost exactly 10:00 PM. Not as early as I’d hoped, but she’d wanted to exercise and told me to let her know when my episode was over, so I did. She finished exercising within a minute. I lit candles and we got to bed.

The massage oil was potent and I used a lot. I was a bit stronger today than last time, maybe because I hadn’t just finished exercising myself, and also because I’ve been using my rubber climber’s ring, most recently this morning. I worked her back first, again for about 20 minutes, then moved lower, to her butt, legs, calves, ankles and feet. A fantastic view, I must say, but not just that … I really love the way she feels, all of her, any woman’s body is so beautiful even if it might not conform to whatever might be the current cultural ideal, but hers, to me at least, is completely wonderful. She made a lot of appreciative sounds. I was enjoying myself, too. Then I had her roll over and did the front of her legs from a different angle, from her feet through her calves, her unusually sensitive knees and her strong quads, which felt firmer than usual, perhaps from all that exercise. I moved around a lot more than last time, from one position to another to focus on different body parts and sometimes to alleviate my own discomfort from this fairly strenuous unaccustomed exercise.

“This is a pretty good workout,” I said, facing her again. “We should do it more often.”

She made an inscrutable sound, somewhere between agreeing that yes, I should do this more often and, yes, she would like to reciprocate. At least that’s what I think she meant.

My hands moved up her hips to her waist, oiled up her chest, my balls resting on her center, sometimes squeezed against her, which felt really nice. She let me know she wasn’t as sensitive as last time when she’d been about to have her period. I massaged her breasts gently, mostly just gathering, stroking and lightly squeezing, the knuckles of my thumbs dragging over her oiled nipples, raising them. Like the rest of her body, I like her breasts very much, and this isn’t something I do very often, enjoying the feel of her in a way that’s only tangentially erotic but meant first and foremost to just give her simple pleasure from touch. But of course it works both ways, and while she seemed to be enjoying that simple touch, it was also making her squirm in a way I recognized well, and of course I was getting pretty stirred up myself. I moved up to her shoulders and neck, from the front this time, straddling her waist. Then, without nearly so much oil, her chin, her cheeks, around her eyes, her forehead, pressing hard on the edges of her ears, especially their lobes, and finally my hands deep in her hair, firmly scraping across her scalp. It’d been almost an hour since I began, and I was ready for something different. I had her roll over so I could spoon her, but instead I worked her shoulders.

“Would you like to try being more sensitive, but without being ticklish?” I asked.

She wasn’t sure what I meant and might’ve been a little suspicious, because it took a minute of explanation to get across what I hoped to accomplish: I wanted her to feel my touch more intensely so that touch could be lighter while possibly affecting her even more. I would use some of the same visualizations I’d been using to help her sleep.

“I don’t want to go to sleep yet,” she said.

“Me neither,” I said.

She agreed to let me try.

“Start with your breathing,” I said. “Deep breaths in, gathering tension, letting your body relax as you feel me gently stroking your shoulders and neck, your cheeks and forehead and scalp, letting my touch clear your thoughts away, trusting in the safe warm space we’re sharing.” I felt her relaxing.

“Now I want you to watch the dancing candle flame and its reflection from the back of its glass, to watch intently, not looking away, not closing your eyes unless you have to blink.”

“It’s hard,” she said after a couple minutes. “My eyes just want to close.”

“That’s good,” I said. “That’s what we want. Just keep watching the candle, watch it dance, keep breathing deep, keep relaxing your body, feeling when I touch you.”

By this time, except for our lower legs we were no longer in physical contact. I liked how her breathing was so even and deep.

“You can let your eyes close now,” I whispered into her ear, “and when I touch you again, you’re going to feel it twice as much as you normally would,” Her breath drew in sharply just after I said ‘twice’.

I put my hand to her shoulder, right where it begins flowing into her neck, began moving my fingertips lightly.

“I don’t remember falling asleep,” she said hours later, both of us having wakened in the night. I blew out the candle on my nightstand and she blew out hers.

“Me neither,” I said. I wasn’t awake long.

She was still asleep when I got out of bed at 7:00 AM. Later that morning, when she came down for the blueberry pancakes I’d been making, I learned she hadn’t gone back to sleep right away, that she’d been awake for two hours while I’d been sleeping so soundly.

Monday

We’d missed being together the last two nights for one reason or another. A holiday weekend, lots of stuff to do. But tomorrow is the anniversary of our moving in together, and we would celebrate tonight, because by tomorrow, time would be in short supply again. As inexpensively as possible while at as nice a place as possible. Happy Hour, anyone?

There’s a really nice restaurant within walking distance, open for almost as long as I’ve been underemployed. Needless to say, while we’ve walked past before and marveled at all the beautiful mostly young-seeming people inside, we haven’t gone in ourselves, at least since it was still under construction and we had a nice chat with one of the owners.

That afternoon, she wanted me to try out the bed she’d acquired for the extra bedroom she’d been painting. I wasn’t so keen on that, but after she asked the second time, I knew the smart thing to do: I lay down. She sat beside me and closed the blinds. It was very blue in there. Light blue, very cheery. I knew she liked it even though I also knew she was having second thoughts, because that’s what happens with her. I told her I liked it very much, reached a hand to her thigh. She was wearing a short dress.

“That feels nice,” she said, and we lay there for 10 minutes, just being together in this fundamentally new place that she’d painted and furnished, almost for free, and I’d helped a little bit with. I was getting horny, and I knew she was too, but we had more to do today.

I’d already showered and she wanted to do the same but she also wanted me to untangle some of her jewelry, silver chains in a Gordian knot of a very minuscule sort—for this sort of thing I’m a lot more patient than she is so while I undid the knot, she cleaned herself up. Beautifully. She came downstairs, absolutely rocking a little black dress I don’t recall ever seeing on her before. I presented her four untangled chains plus the earring they’d been partially tangled around. She wanted the lariat necklace I’d given her last year, which she’d only worn once before and hadn’t seemed enthralled by. It was custom, the first one like it the jeweler had ever made and there were some things I wished she’d done differently, but it still looked great. I’d even guesstimated how long the chain needed to be, which was still an open question. Time was short, so Nina slid it into her purse and we walked to the restaurant, arriving about 10 minutes after it opened, about 10 minutes after we’d hoped to. Fortunately there was plenty of seating, and of the dozen first-come-first-serve burgers they make each day, more than one was still available. Nina didn’t know how the necklace worked and asked me to put it on her. I looped the chain through the lariat and got it ready, then stood behind her and linked the chain, kissing her softly on the neck. She shivered—she is easy prey to goosebumps. She was also wearing the matching earrings I’d bought her, from the same custom jeweler. I stood back to study the effect—the stone hovered just above her cleavage but she could tighten the loop around her neck so it could go deeper.

Did I mention that she was absolutely rocking her little black dress? She looked fantastic, and I told her so.

The burger came. The bartender had told us it was the best in the city, but I’ve had better, not that this one was bad. I’d already ordered two other items from the Happy Hour menu, neither of them fried like Happy Hour items so often are. We each had a glass of wine. I would’ve preferred a nice IPA, but the wine was discounted while the taps were not, and the wine was actually pretty good, so no complaints. My glass emptied about the same time the other two dishes arrived. Mollusks and pork ribs, and while the burger had been good, these were outstanding. I ordered more bread, because why order mollusks if you can’t also eat all of the best thing about them, which is the sauce they’re served in? Whoever invented bread, bless you again! We toasted our relationship with recently refilled Italian sauvignon blanc.

We thought about dessert but walked to the market instead. So much food, so little time, but at least we bought good ice cream. I worked for a couple more hours after we got home, we had dessert, vanilla ice cream with the chocolate sauce and pecans Nina wanted, Bailey’s in mine, which she’d never heard of anyone doing and didn’t really like it when she tasted it, maybe the first woman I’ve ever known who didn’t like Bailey’s in her ice cream, though if I know her as well as I think I do, by the second or third time she tries it she will like it somewhat better. I was finally in bed about 10:00 PM and asleep by 10:20. She woke me an hour later … she’d been exercising. I rubbed her for half an hour, maybe 80% conscious.

It was almost midnight when she asked “Do you want to do something? Don’t tell me you always want to.”

“OK, I won’t,” I said as I massaged her shoulders. She rolled into me. I found her right shoulder, which was crunchy. I worked it, and she sigh-moaned.

“But I do,” I said, and reached to her.

I love Nina’s breasts. I love her legs, I love her hips, I love her bottom. Frankly, I love everything about her. I kissed her, my mouth more closed the way she told me she likes it. I got fully hard very quickly. Her hand found a way to stoke that particular fire. My hands, my mouth, my cock, all on her but none of them inside, at least not very far, she got to the edge really fucking fast. She rolled onto me, took me into her. She was already extremely wet, but not all the way in … it took a little longer for that, which suited me just fine since it meant we had to slow down, which, as I’ve mentioned before, is how I like it best. I found her button, pushed it, my thumb circling. She cried out. I kept on, her working me, me matching her rhythm. She cried out again, more than once, then convulsed, somewhat more loudly than usual.

“Behind me?” she asked two minutes later, when she’d caught her breath.

I’d enjoyed her being her on top, but knew that from behind works well for both of us—she doesn’t feel pressured. She rolled over and I reentered her.

Nina has an extremely wonderful ass, in case I haven’t already mentioned that.

As usual, my thoughts wandered as we moved, together and apart. Together. I thought of that necklace I’d had made for her, its crystal pendant deep in her cleavage, dropping down deeper, and hell yes I came.

We cleaned up, her first. By the time I rejoined her in bed, I was ready for sleep and she should’ve been, but …

“I’m worried,” she said. Shit. I began working her shoulders. I was pretty awake, but knew it wouldn’t last long. I worked deeper. I really like doing this, don’t judge me, she’s stressed, all this tension, she should be able to go to sleep but can’t because … aforementioned … all I have to do is …

My hands were on her shoulders. I massaged, spread my fingers on her forehead, her scalp, gently. Eventually, I tapped her.

“It should be in the middle of my forehead,” she said softly.

“I don’t want it to be too hard,” I said, “I don’t want to scramble your brains.”

She said nothing.

“Four,” I said, tapping the middle of her forehead.

“Three,” I said, tapping again. “Feel yourself sink, deeper, into the mattress, so deep.”

“Two,” I said, tapping again, as close as I could get to the exact center of her forehead. “feel yourself fading, feel your self sinking, deeper and deeper, into the mattress, into relaxation.

We were breathing more or less together. It was really easy for me, speaking to her, stroking her, to sense the tension I carried in my body and release it.

“Collect your tension, collect your stress … collect it, all together, and … release,” I said. “Now my fingers are on your forehead, your relaxed body leading your relaxed mind to … relaxation, just let it happen.” My fingers wandered on her forehead, on her scalp.

She went right to sleep.

Wednesday night / Thursday morning, week 3

Nina’s neck was sore. I said I would massage it and went to bed about 10:15. She came up a bit later, I don’t know how much later since I was asleep by then. Thoughts of massaging her neck did not resurface, and we both went to sleep. I woke up with her alarm, a little before 8:00 AM. She said she slept well but her neck was still sore. This time I rolled into her and began massaging. Necks are tricky … the neck itself is sensitive and bruises easily, at least hers does, but then again her entire body bruises easily. Sometimes I joke that I could breathe on her and it would leave a bruise, which really isn’t far from the truth. So I’m much gentler with her neck than I am with the muscles where her shoulder flows into it, which I worked pretty hard, and there was some crunchiness there to work through.

“Would you like to relax?” I asked.

“That sounds nice,” she said.

I took a deep breath. “It starts with breathing,” I said. “Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. Nice, slow, relaxing. Let your tension flow out as you breathe, let yourself relax. Your feet, your legs, your bottom, your hips, chest, shoulders, let them all relax, let the tension flow out with your breath.” I was whispering now. “Your arms, your wrists, hands, neck, your chin, cheeks, the muscles around your eyes, I’m relaxing mine just as you’re relaxing yours, nice deep breaths, feel yourself sinking into the mattress.”

I was no longer massaging firmly, just lightly stroking, long slow strokes from the crown of her head to her knees and back up. “Feel my fingers gently stroking you,” I said. “Let that sensation guide your thoughts, let your body relax, leading your mind into relaxation, let my touch and your body guide your thoughts into relaxation.”

I tapped her on the forehead, as close to its center as I could. She was facing away, on her side, so I had to do it by feel.

A few seconds later I tapped her again. “Sinking,” I said.

Then another tap, harder than I intended. I stroked her forehead as if erasing it, then tapped again. “Dropping,” I said.

Then another tap, gentle. “Two,” I said. “Feel yourself sinking, dropping, falling, feel your awareness drifting away into such a nice warm safe place, here with me, just us, nothing else to do right now but enjoy what you’re feeling as you sink so gently with me.” I dropped three fingers onto her forehead, let one linger there, circling slowly.

“One,” I said. “Feel yourself drifting, floating away, such a nice feeling, feel my hands on your body, so gentle, helping you relax further. In a moment I’m going to begin massaging you again, and you’ll be much more relaxed than before, just enjoying the feeling, just enjoying this sensation, just my voice and my touch, no need to think, no need to stir, just being here with me in this nice warm bed, drifting, floating, in this wonderful relaxed place.”

I massaged her, working her shoulders and neck but alternating with lighter touch, each hand stroking from her scalp, her neck, her back, her waist, hips, bottom, her legs, her knees, gently stroking her kneecap, and then slowly back up. Down and back up her arms to her fingers, sometimes just my fingertips, other times my open hands, sharing warmth and energy. She moaned. After about 10 minutes, I tapped her forehead one more time.

“You’re falling into sleep now,” I said. “Feel my fingertip drop between your eyes, feel yourself drop down deeper with it, feel my finger slide down the bridge of your nose, to the tip, feel yourself slide down deeper with it, deeper and deeper, lingering there for just a few moments, and when my finger leaves your nose you will be asleep.”

“That’s so nice,” she whispered. “Thank you.” I kissed between her shoulder blades and rolled a little bit away. She wasn’t moving. A few minutes later I rose, dressed for the day, tidied up a few things in the kitchen, then worked for a couple hours. I actually had to go back into the bedroom at one point, where I saw that she was in the same position I’d left her, on her side, facing away from where I would’ve been if I were still in bed.

Two hours after getting out of bed, I knew she would be getting up soon, so I started making toast and tea. I boiled the water, assembled a tray with everything needed, toasted challah, and was buttering it when she came into the kitchen. She saw what I was doing and smiled. “That’s so nice!” she said. “Would you like one? I don’t think I can eat both pieces.”

I thought that was a lovely idea, so we took the tray to the coffee table in the living room and shared our little breakfast. I’d filled the little crystal containers she likes for sugar and milk. Unfortunately it’s a little late in the season for wildflowers, so I apologized for the lack—I’d even gone outside to look for something. I suppose I could’ve clipped from a neighbor, but … nah. She told me she’d been sleeping so deeply and thanked me for the massage.