The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She had never seen that bookshop before. But Lucinda had reached a breaking point. She didn’t know what to do anymore— and she needed outside help. She had not been the kind to read self-help books before, but now seemed the perfect time to start.

Lucinda worked in IT, at a large company which closed deals in large amounts. And lately, at work, she had been struggling. The whole IT department had been under pressure to transfer system databases— this had entailed creating the new database, and getting it ready for the transfer, then going through with the data transfer itself.

It wasn’t going well. New bugs in the transfer program itself, and the database, both systems the IT department had designed themselves, and which were intellectual property of their company— both systems kept developing bugs.

The issue was, Lucinda was the one taking a lot of the heat for this. She had a somewhat senior position in her department, and most of the developers reported to her— not to mention a lot of the code was her own. And they couldn’t figure out what was causing the new bugs. As soon as they resolved one, there was another.

She’d been digging deep— her whole team had— but the management of the company at large, which was superior to the entire department, had made it clear they weren’t happy. A lot of the trade their company did was being impacted, and they had said in not so many words that they would be prepared to fire the entire department unless they got their act together.

And late night after late night wasn’t fixing the problem. Lucinda was up to working long past her shifts every day, and there still wasn’t a solution. It was coming into her personal life too. This had been going on for weeks now, and one of Lucinda’s best friends, Mikaela, had essentially ended their friendship, because Lucinda had kept promising meet-ups and phone calls and had ended up flaking instead, and using that time to work.

Losing Mikaela’s friendship had been an additional blow. Lucinda felt many of her friendships might soon be going the same way. She wasn’t trying to blow off her friends— the problem was, every time she got herself ready to follow through on a promise, either to go out or to pick up the phone, at that moment she usually got a phonecall about the latest fire she needed to put out, and the panic of that experience made her forget everything else.

Trying to spare friends disappointment by just flatly refusing to do anything with them didn’t seem to really work either. It caused just as much frustration.

So Lucinda needed something— something outside herself to give her an answer. And seeing this bookshop which had previously passed beneath her notice seemed like a sign. She went in.

She was still trying to dress well these days. The lack of sleep might have inclined her to slobbing around, but she forced herself to put in the effort even when she could barely keep her eyes open.

Today she had worn her tan pants, her soft blue shirt, and her tightly tailored white jacket overtop to help protect her from breezes. She had her purse over her shoulder, and her dark sunglasses nested in her black hair. She still looked like a functioning human, even if she didn’t feel like one inside.

She pushed the door of the shop open, and heard the bell ring— her eyes scanned from her vantage point just inside the entrance.

Over to the left, there was a counter with a cash register. But no one was behind it.

She looked around. To her right, there were several rows of low bookshelves, easy to see over the tops of. No one was over there.

Diagonally from her, to the left of those low bookshelves, there was a serious of very tall shelves which blocked her view. They looked less organized— arranged in rectangle and square formations, making that corner of the bookshop look more like a maze.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but that maze appearance gave her a faint feeling of comfort. She’d go looking in there for some book to help her— though honestly, if she couldn’t find any particularly helpful self-help book, she might have to resort to venturing into the religious section and trying to find some comfort in the idea of a higher power. She did not have a great religious history— but even she had reached the point where she was almost ready to start praying, begging for something to change.

She moved to that corner of the shop which was diagonal from her. There was no one around here either, and the shop as a whole was pretty quiet. She might have thought it wasn’t open for business, that there had been some mistake with forgetting to lock up, if there hadn’t been a neon sign hanging in the front window which had declared it “open.”

She moved through one square formation of shelves. Already the rest of the shop felt like it had been severed for her. That helped her exhale, and breathe a little easier on her next inhalation.

Her eyes started scanning the shelves, even the ones much higher than her head.

She moved through several sections— then she started to find titles that spoke to her. How to Hold on In Any Adversity, and How to Turn Failure Into Success.

And things that could comfort her worst fears: How to Bounce Back After Being Fired, and How Getting Fired Was the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me— And How the People I Dragged Down With Me Thanked Me After.

That one seemed like it had been written just for her. She couldn’t resist reaching out, to the shelf that was two-above her head. Maybe it could tell her how to convince her department employees to forgive her— even thank her. If she got fired, all of them would be getting it too.

So many of the titles had spoken to her, so she reached out, and grabbed a few more. She had a five or six book stack, and she was trying to reach for a seventh, when she leaned too far, and all the books slid out of her hands and fell to the floor.

“Did you need some help?” She heard a man’s voice speak from behind her.

She startled. She had thought she was the only one in the store.

She turned. Sure enough, there was a man there. He was a bit taller than her, and he was leaning against the shelf she’d been reaching for, his arm raised over his head, so it could sit on the shelf proper— his hand lying on his brown hair.

“I didn’t know there was anyone here,” Lucinda admitted.

“I’m always here,” the man said. “I’m the owner of this shop.”

He took his arm off the shelf, and extended for her to shake. “My name is Joel.”

Lucinda went through with the handshake. “Lucinda,” she said.

She had been ready to bend down and pick up the books, but Joel bent down before she could, turning them over so he could see each cover as he retrieved them one by one.

He stood, holding the pile of books out to her.

“It sounds like you’re in a troubled spot with your life,” he acknowledged.

Lucinda flushed, but couldn’t deny it. The titles of the books painted a clear picture.

“I’m pretty senior in my IT department,” she explained. “A lot of people report to me. Our big project is not going well. We’re all going to get fired if something doesn’t change. I haven’t been able to fix the technical problems. So I thought— maybe if I fixed my mindset— maybe that would give me inspiration, and I could crack how to do it.”

Joel gave her a considering look.

“Would you like help?”

Lucinda stared at him. “Help?” How could he help her?

“Just say there was a way I could be helpful to you— anything I could do— would you accept it?”

Joel set her stack of books on one of the lower shelves, and then turned back to look at her expectantly.

“You won’t tell me what kind of help this will be?”

Joel just smiled at her.

“If you were offering help… whatever kind of help it was…”

Joel was still watching her, waitfully.

“If you are offering help,” Lucinda corrected, since it was pretty clear that was what he was doing. “Then I accept. I don’t think I’m in the position to turn offers like this down. But how—”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Joel said, taking one of the books from Lucinda’s pile. “Let’s look through here first, and see if there’s anything useful in these pages.”

So Joe started turning pages. Lucinda was watching his face closely, waiting to see if he would come forth with any useful suggestions— waiting to see if he was going to start reading.

But for now he was only turning the pages. It made a rustling sound, every time a page turned— sometimes he turned them much slower— sometimes he turned them much faster. Lucinda’s mind had locked onto the sequence while her eyes were fixed on Joel. When would he turn more slowly? When would he turn more quickly?

Slow, slow, fast— fast— fast— slow, fast— slow, fast, fast— slow, slow, slow, fast, slow… It was a frustrating pattern because it kept varying itself before any one sequence could recur.

And it was getting hard to keep track of. For Lucinda, her mind always latched on to the start of any sequence, and tried to count forward from it, so that everything following could be related back to it.

But with that endless repetition, there was a huge backlog of input which her mind was sinking under the weight of. If only a sequence would repeat itself, once or twice. Her brain would feel like it was resetting— then it could count forward from that reset, taking in everything that followed. Just once— the same tempo spaced out the same way, a fast fast slow, fast fast slow. Her brain was craving it now, but it never happened— the speed at which Joel turned each page went on at its maddening pace, making her head feel like it was spinning.

She was ready to give up on her forward counting— it went against her natural instinct, but she had to do something. She’d force her brain to stop cataloguing— or she’d just tune it out, or stop listening—

Joel looked up from the book and looked her over once.

“It’s good that you’re listening so intently,” he said. So he had noticed the confusion which was descending on her. “It’s good that you’re going to keep listening, too. You can hear the way it sounds when I turn each page— listening to that is better than listening to the silence in the rest of the store.”

Snared. Pulled back into that interminable counting forward which gave her such a mental backlog to reckon with.

But… this was good, wasn’t it? Joel had been right— if she tuned out the sound of the pages turning, what she heard instead was a great blank nothing. There wasn’t even so much as a background electrical hum, the entire bookshop was just dead silent, in a way that was unnerving.

Joel was actually doing her a favor, something kind for her, giving her something to listen to. If she’d just stood here while he read, and he took great care in turning pages silently, she would have had to focus on that expansive nothing, and it definitely would have started to get on her nerves.

Joel had said he was going to help… this was helpful… had she felt differently a moment ago? She didn’t think so.

And now she could contentedly listen to the sound of those pages rustling. That sound was like a brain massage. If there had been tension in her mind, it was gone now… she exhaled in relief, and listened closer.

Joel seemed to be turning the pages with intent. Like he knew each turn produced a sonority for her, and he was taking care to gift her each one. She wasn’t keeping track of pace or speed any longer— it had all become the same kind of rustling hum, which all of her attention was now focused on. There seemed to be something a little above the hum— perhaps Joel was saying something to her, but the words almost seemed to become submerged beneath the sound of the paper— so it felt like only half of her mind was really listening to them, while the other half sat on the surface with those pages turning.

She was feeling a bit better about things— she would keep feeling better— she was feeling like this because of Joel. She only had to keep accepting each gift he gave to her— whatever he was saying to her— this was all because of him— he seemed the only person in the world brilliant enough to turn pages just like this, to say things just like this that she couldn’t remember.

She was so lucky she had come into this shop today, she realized. If she’d gone into any other bookshop, she’d never have found a proprietor like Joel. Or in any other establishment— she wouldn’t have found any person like Joel.

She felt a fond affection for him, as she stood there, as all other details of her surroundings seemed to recede while the detail of those pages turning seemed to take pride of place.

But he was still a man she didn’t really know— and she didn’t feel much for him other than simple affection. He wasn’t the kind of man she would ever really be interested in, no matter how nice or perfect she actually was. No romantic feelings for him would ever develop, she was rockcertain of that.

She didn’t even particular think she was attracted to him, or that she ever would be, either. Which was fine, it wasn’t like she needed to be. All she really needed from his was that he keep turning the pages, keep filling the silence that was the space around her sitting still, pushing her mind to demand, to beg for something, anything to focus on.

And then when the rustling happened in that constant lowgrade continuance, the demand was answered, what was begged for was provided.

She would have had to be… thinking… of something… unpleasant. Something that had been sitting with her for weeks, if she hadn’t had this noise to distract her— and whatever it was Joel was saying. She couldn’t remember what that unpleasant something was, just now. It didn’t seem important. In the expanse of silence there would have been nowhere to escape it.

But Joel was providing her with that.

He watched her, as he kept turning the pages with one hand— and reached, as though to touch her hair.

That seemed to signal attraction from him— and as wonderful, and light as she was feeling inside, Lucinda still knew she wasn’t all that attracted to Joel; she wasn’t upset that he reached for her, but just thoroughly uninterested in having him touch her.

So instead she stepped back, so his hand missed its mark— but gave him a slight smile, to show she held no negative feelings.

Joel had understood— he dropped his hand, and his eyes took on a more dedicated look. He flipped the pages more quickly— then would turn one slowly again— the effect in her mind seemed to redouble— any words he said were lost in the shuffle.

Joel was doing this for her. She was so thankful. Joel was doing this for her and no one else could have done it. Yes, that was so true.

She watched, with slightly unfocused eyes, as Joel closed the book, and held it by its spine— he was looking at her, but she was looking at the book— if she had looked up at him, he would have been staring far into her eyes, but even with his eyes watching her, she could feel his stare like it was a presence.

Somehow, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling. She had just stepped away from him— had she? But now it felt nice to have something of Joel on her, around her— so had she misjudged her feelings a moment before? She was in a very drifting, distracted headspace, she couldn’t really blame herself if she had. Something about the feeling of liking the way Joel looked at her was making sense, but she still didn’t return his gaze.

She could hear his voice, saying nothing distinct. And she watched him hold the book by its spine— now he shook it— so the pages all fell open to the inside of one cover, and then the pages all fell closed to the inside of the other cover.

It was a sound unlike anything— the pages turning before had been a rustling, like shaking an autumnal tree branch and knocking loose several leaves at once.

But this was like logging— many trees with many branches all felled at once, all those leaves dispersed at once. Or the sound of diving into a large leaf pile and scattering them everywhere on the wind.

It overwhelmed her mind, and she felt much better after— warm— happy— or before it had been like the drip of a faucet, where now it felt like the rush of many waves.

Joel was doing this more quickly— shaking all the pages to one side, then to the other, shaking the book repeatedly so his hand never stopped moving, and the pages never stopped shifting themselves.

Then he was back to varying the tempo— shaking the pages slowly, then very quickly, after.

Then very quickly, a few times in a row— then very slowly several times in a row— so slowly she could almost see each individual page arc out and then fall to the opposite cover. The visual was becoming a part of it— the way the pages moved so slowly when Joel intended, or the way they were a blur when he intended that.

And his voice mixed so well with the rest of what he did. She wanted to listen to that combined relaxing sound— the pages falling and obscuring Joel’s words— she was understanding something now.

What she really needed was an outlet for stress relief… that would help her with… whatever her unpleasantness had been. Something that let her get all those bad feelings out of her body— needed to move, needed to expend them— really the best way to do that would be— yes! It would be sex.

And Joel— she stopped here, checking herself over internal. She felt no disinterest in this time. She’d been too clouded by bad feelings before— that was it— that was why she’d mistakenly thought she didn’t want him to touch her.

Really she thought she did want him to touch her. He wasn’t a bad looking guy— as attractive as many of the sexual partners she had enjoyed in the past, really. So he should touch her— he’d promised to help— what he was going to help her with was relieving her stress— and all the turning pages in the world couldn’t relieve stress the way that sex could… this was secondary to that— and that was what she really needed to be doing.

She needed to move her body, move her body on Joel— listening wasn’t enough anymore, it was leaving her dissatisfied— she could feel that unpleasantness creeping back up on her. If it got too close, she would remember what she had been so happy to forget.

She could not just stand here listening like this anymore.

She stepped closer to Joel, even as he shifted the book by its spine once again, sending all the pages flopping to one cover. She didn’t even here them as they went— she was only focused on Joel.

He watched her coming closer, until she was stood directly in front of him— watched her with anticipation— from his expression, it seemed he had been waiting for her to do something like this— expecting she would do something like this; and now he only watched to make sure that she was actually doing as he thought she was— to make sure she wasn’t actually doing something else.

Or watching just because it was what there was to do while he waited for her to arrive in front of him.

She was so close to him, she could feel the presence of his body ahead of hers in physical space, even though her body wasn’t touching his yet.

She took the book from his hand, and he gave it up to her; she was quick to shift aside onto a shelf and get it out of her hand. She kept looking at him all the time.

“Thank you for helping me, Joel,” she said, really meaning it— feeling there was almost no way she could express the depth of her gratitude, for there was too much of it.

“You’re welcome,” and Joel looked pleased with himself. He’d done something very good, very kind, for another person. He should be pleased with himself, Lucinda thought.

“I really understand now,” she spoke on. “The solution to all my problems is just… to let the pressure out physically. Will you help me again? Will you help me get all the weight of my life’s pressure out of my body?”

She couldn’t even remember what her life’s pressure was, not now, but she knew she had it— that her body was still marked by it.

Joel smiled. “I was only waiting for you to ask,” and their lips brushed together.

They kissed for a moment. Joel’s hand came up to twine in Lucinda’s hair— knocking her sunglasses out of their perch there, she heard them fall to the floor and didn’t care, didn’t even open her eyes.

His other arm was around her waist, and pulling her close. She could fell all the tension that was in her— there was no sound for her mind to focus on, and as she had known, all of that difficulty, those difficulty feelings, they had returned to her in its absence.

But now there was sensation to distract— and the sound she could hear was the sound of Joel kissing her— their lips moving together and meeting— it didn’t do anything for her like the turning pages had done, but that was alright, because the true distraction was the sensation, and that seemed so much more effective a method of distraction than what she’d been exposed to before.

She needed more physical sensation though, kissing alone wasn’t enough.

Joel was pulling his mouth away, giving her less, not more.

“You understand now,” he said. “Whenever you’re feeling stress, whenever you’re feeling under pressure, you need to come to me, and let me give you physical release.”

Lucinda didn’t even question the way Joel’s words seemed to slot into place in her mind, and become believed. “I need to come to you, and let you give me physical release,” she repeated. It had become her own thought.

Joel nodded, and then brought his mouth to hers again— she closed her eyes once more as they further kissed.

She was attracted to him, yes. She’d been foolish, confused, to ever think she hadn’t been.

But there was still no kind of romantic feeling for him. She only wanted him for lustful reasons— and an arrangement in which every now and then she dropped into the bookshop for a fuck to take care of any built-up stress, sounded like a good arrangement to her. She didn’t need more from him.

Joel wasn’t taking his time anymore; and Lucinda was sympathetic to this. He had stepped back, to pull his shirt over his head, giving Lucinda that chance to do the same— and as he undid his pants, Lucinda was quick to pull down hers— pants off, shirt of, jacket off, underwear off.

Joel approached her again, and as he approached her on an angle, Lucinda shifted in parallel with him, keeping the front of her naked body facing his— she realized after that he had gotten her angled around so her back was to the bookshelf— she could feel individual shelves resting against her back at intervals, giving her support.

Joel seemed to put his leg up, by resting his foot on one of the lower shelves a few up from the ground. This had him pretty directly angled for the entrance of Lucinda’s pussy, and Lucinda licked her lips. “Please, Joel. Take my stress away.”

Joel smiled again. “With pleasure,” he said. Lucinda appreciated the double meaning— then forgot it, as soon as she felt Joel sliding himself into her cunt.

Her mind seemed to silence. The physical sensation was everything. Joel over her— the inside of thigh brushing her hip, his cock thrust deep into her— his hands on her breasts— his lips on her mouth. She gasped her feelings, gasped them into his mouth, and he answered them by brushing over her tongue with his. She shuddered in pleasure.

He was leaning her back into the shelf— the shelf that was between her shoulders was the one that was most digging into her— now she felt like she was on an angle, slanting down from that shelf— and with Joel positioned the way he was, his leg him, this forced her pussy further down him, until she was engulfing him right to the root.

Her breasts felt heavy on her chest, and so filled-out. The tension was everywhere in her— in her face— and when Joel kissed it, it seemed to disperse the tension, break it up, break it apart. Then it remained in smaller bits— but every kiss there seemed to break it up more.

And the tension was in her breasts— every time Joel’s hands kneaded her hard, the same thing happened— the tension broke up into smaller bits, dispersing— then with each new manipulation of his fingers, those bits went to smaller bits— and smaller— when all the tension became loose, it seemed to move around her body more— to places Joel couldn’t touch— not without moving his hands, and Lucinda really wanted them to stay on her breasts.

She decided not to focus on that— the free-floating fragments of tension that were moving around inside her now.

There was tension sitting low in her room, too— and every time Joel pulled his cock back, Lucinda snapped her hips up for his return entry, so both of them could snap their hips together, and Joel could get into her that much deeper.

Then when she felt his cock puncturing in, the tension there, sitting low in her, in her pussy— it broke up, into smaller bits— then smaller bits— all over her, he had broken the biggest parts of it down— dissolving some of it in the process.

But when he had broken everything to its smallest point, there were still bits of it he hadn’t gotten— she could feel them circulating in her now— deviations wherever they could be felt.

The rest of her felt good— relieved— and then she would find those spots of moving tension, and they were in contrast to the rest of what she felt.

She more desperately snapped her hips to his, jiggled her breasts into his hands, dragged her mouth along his mouth. She needed all of the tension gone, not just most of it.

Joel pulled his mouth away, leaning over to nip at her ear— then speaking. “When you come, all of the tension will leave your body.”

Lucinda cried out. He’d known.

Her whole body shuddered as she knew the truth: yes, in the release of orgasm, all the tension would be washed out of her, and nothing but the good feelings inside would remain. There would only be pleasure, and pleasurable relief.

She was quaking, literally tremoring, and the tremors were all through her— in her hips, as they now stuttered to snap to Joel’s, in her breasts as they moved under his hands— even in her jaw as she tried to keep kissing him, but became less precise at it.

She shuddered even at her shoulders, where they were bitten into by the shelf that was propping her up on a diagonal descending line. She needed to, need to so badly but she couldn’t quite.

Joel’s lips separated from hers once more. “Now,” he urged breathlessly, on another downward stroke, and it happened.

Like a celestial collision— her orgasm collided, and in one hit, obliterated all the tension which had been inside her. She was gasping, she was crying, she had never known a pleasure so immense— nor known her pussy could twitch so fast, and it was effectively doing its job, milking Joel for everything inside him— he grunted: he was spurting into her, claiming her with wild thrusts as her whole body shook against the shelf supporting her— they fucked until Joel was soft, and then he slipped out of her.

She stood, looking at him, disoriented from coming so hard— a come she hadn’t known her body could do.

Joel handed her her clothes. She dressed— smoothed down her sexmussed hair.

“I’ll be sure to come back the next time I’m feeling stress,” Lucinda said. A compulsion was in her, forcing the next words, temporarily blanking her mind. “That is the only way my stress can ever be relieved.”

Then she was released, and smiled brightly at Joel.

“I’ll see you next time, then,” Joel said, smiling back.

Lucinda was privately looking forward to it as she left.