The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My name is Meg and I am the luckiest girl in the world.

What makes me so lucky? Well first you have to understand that I am a nymphomaniac.

No. That is NOT what makes me lucky. There is nothing lucky about being so addicted to sex that the sight of a hard hot cock makes you soak your panties and-

Sorry. I got distracted. Thats one of my problems.

But getting back to the reason I say I am lucky. It happens that the same day I found out what I really was I met a guy who was willing to solve my problem. Or at least protect me from myself.

Let me explain.

Until my sophmore year of college—last year—my sex life was pretty normal. Maybe even on the dull side. I had slept with two guys and while I sometimes had an orgasm with one of them I cant say I was really eager for sex. Ha. Little did I know what was going on inside me...

Well. One day I saw an ad for an experiment in the psychology department. The graudate students there were always doing experiments and sometimes you could earn a few bucks doing them. This one was for a personality profile and it paid fifty bucks for an hour of your time.

I remember thinking that was pretty good. I went down to the lab and met the experimenter. His name was Joe Sargent and when I saw him I figured it was too late because he was turning a cnadidate, a guy, away.

When he saw me he brightened right up. “Are you here for the study?”

“Looks like I am too late” I said.

“No. We are just studying women today so you are in luck.” He looked me up and down. “Yes. You look like a prime candidate.”

I thought at the time he was giving me the kind of ogling I get from men a lot. I know now I wasnt his type but thats okay—he wasnt mine either. Typical lab rat: short and pudghy with thick glasses and mousy hair. To me he was just a source of fifty bucks. I filled out the forms he gave me and didnt give him another thought.

Anyway Joe had this black booth set up in the lab. It looked kind of like a metal phonebooth with a tv screen in it. “Just sit there and get comfortable” he said thru the speeker. “Okay Meg. Look at the screen. Push the buttons when the screen says to.”

“How long will this take?” I asked. “Cause I have class in an hour.”

“No problem” his voice came again. “Just relax and will be done long before that.”

I guess the test must have been dull because I cant remember any of the questions! The next think I know Joe had opened the booth and was waking me up. He looked very embarassed.

“Oh my god, Meg! Are you ok!”

“Me? Im fine.” In fact I felt great. Very well rested. “Whats wrong?”

“You must have fallen asleep in there. I told you the test was over and you said you were coming out. I went to file some paperwork and when I got back there was no sign of you, so I thought you were gone. And I had to go to class.”

It turned out I had been in there almost six hours. Funny thing is I didnt feel cramped. Felt like I had had the best rest in months. “I guess I needed the extra sleep.”

“I guess so. Well. Thanks for participating.”

“So what have you learned about my personality?”

“Nothing yet. Computers still working on it.” He p[ointed at a PC wired up to a printer. “Let me get your money.”

I stood there waiting thinking about how wonderful I felt—really fresh and well rested—and suddenly the computer let out a beep and the printer started printing.

Maybe I shouldnt have looked but I couldnt help myself. I just felt drawn to the printer. And sure enough what was coming out was my personality profile.

CATEGORY: Nymphomaniac. Extremely suppressed. May not even be consciously aware of it.

I was flabbergasted. The nerve! Calling me a nymphomaniac! I was so mad I walked out without waiting for the money. In ever wanted to see that creepy lab rat again.

By the time I left the lab I was really awake and realized I was hungry. I went over to the meal hall for dinner.

And thats when the trouble started. There were a few guys standing in front of me in line. One was facing the others talking and I noticed he was wearing running shorts. Something about them had my attention and I couldnt look away. But I couldnt figure out what it was.

Then he turned and I realized he was hard. He had an erection. It felt like lightning went down my spine. I swear my hand reached out to pet it like a dog. But before I touched him I realized that he and his friends were staring at me and I snatched my hand back. I know I was blushing.

One of them said something—I dont know what. I was running from the building. I dont think I had never even noticed a hard on before except when one of my boyfriends was hugging me. Now I couldnt get it out of my mind. Out of my thoughts. Out of my hand my mouth my c-

What was happening to me?

Two hours later I was so hungry I realized I needed to go get some food. I walked to the 7-11. I found myself peeking over the counter at the clerk and checking his pants to see if he was hard. When he wasnt I was disappointed. God. What had happened?

The next day was a disaster. I went to breakfast with my eyes on the ground the whole way. I was afraid of what I would do if I saw a man with a—with a hard -

God.

The first class was mostly women. I was careful to sit in the front row where I coudnt see any of the men. The teacher was a woman and so I was able to keep my head straight forward and concentrate really hard on the class. I thought: Maybe this will be ok. But hell—I am an A or A minus student I was struggling to keep up because my brain was eslewhere.

The teacher in the next class was a man. And while he sat behind his desk the whole time every time he shifted I was wondering if he was moving around because he had a stiff dick that was making him uncomfortable. I even imagined myself crouching under his desk and checking. Reaching out -

And I didnt even LIKE this professor. And believe me he was NOT cute.

I went back to my dorm room after that. I locked the door and wept. What the hell was wrong with me?

It was almost dinner time—I had blown off lunch—and I was trying to get up the nerve to go for another meal when the doorbell rang.

Instantly I fantiasized that it was the man with the shorts from yesterday. He had tracked me down and come to say: here it is if you want to touch it. Here it is for you to-

But it wasnt him. It was Joe Sargent from the Psych Lab. “Hi Meg. You left without your fifty dollars yesterday. Can I come in and write you a check?”

I let him in. I tried not to look at him although god knows he wasn’t the handsome man of my wet dreams. “I still feel bad about you falling asleep in that booth” he said.

“Its okay” I said. I was being careful not to look anywhere near him.

“Now.” I knew he was bending over the desk with his checkbook handy. “What is your full and proper name?”

And thats when I looked at him. At his pants. And I saw he was hard.

I lost it. Thats all. I lost complete control.

I remember how wide his eyes went. “Meg? What are you—”

But then I was kissing him. Pressing up against him. Trying desperately to press my crotch against his cock while finding it with my hand at the same time. “Oh Joe!” I moaned. “I want you so much.”

He was trying to push away but I was holding his jacket. “Meg. I hardly even know you—”

“I know YOU. I mean I want to. I want to fuck you Joe.” I had both hands on his belt now and was frantically trying to unbuckle it. My hands were shaking like castanets. “Please! Fuck me!”

It was the most humiliating thing I had ever done. Ever felt. I fell backwards onto the floor still holding on to his belt. He pretty much had to cmoe down with me. He landed on top of me.

And suddenly he was kissing me back and squeezing my tits and I knew he was going to stick that wonderful dick into me and I was the happiest girl on earth. I was wearing a bathrobe and I yanked it open with one hand as I found his zipper with the other.

We didnt even take off his pants. He just poked his dick through the fly and we did it like that with his zipper catching on my hairs. It hurt but not as much as my ass being pounded into the floor.

I didnt care. I was just so happy to have his dick—ANY dick inside me. I didnt come but I didnt care. It felt like I had been holding my breath for two days and now I could exhale again.

When he was done he rolled off me and looked down at me like—gosh. I dont know. Like you might look at an accident victim.

“Meg? Are you okay? Your crying.”

“Im just so happy. Thank you.”

“Me? Ha. Thank YOU. That was the most fun I have had since—I dont know when. Uh. Do you do this—I mean—have there been a lot...”

I shook my head. “Only two men before you and never like this. I mean I dated them and—you know.”

“Yeah. I never did anything like this either. So why now? Why me?” He touched me on the shoulder and smiled. “Come on. Confess all your deeds.”

And its funny. Just like when he said “Whats you full and proper name?” I lost all the ability to fight the urge when he said “confess all your deeds” I found myself telling him everything that happened. How I had become obsessed with men. With their cocks.

I thought he would look horrified. Or at least disgusted. Instead Joe just nodded. “Your lucky I have been studying psychology Meg. I have read about this in my abnormal psych class.”

I shivered when he said ABNORMAL.

“What your describing is nymphomania. A classic case.”

I frowned. “But I have never been crazy about sex before. I never even enjoyed it that much. Why would it start so suddenly.”

“Ah.” He lay on his back and frowned his pudgy lips at the sky. “Did you read what came out of the printer?”

I admitted it.

“Thats what woke you up. Your subconcious I mean.”

And you know: that seemed to make sense. Because I certainly had feelings when I came out of that booth I didnt have when I went in.

“But now you know your a nymphomaniac.” He looked at me carefully. “So do you find me very attractive?”

I felt awful but I couldnt lie to him. “Not really Joe. Your not my type at all. Its just- Oh. Ive hurt your feelings.”

He had sat up and looked not so much hurt as grim. When he spoke it was more to himself than to me. “Dammit. I should have known. I thought that when you got relief it would—But of course not.”

And then he smiled. But it wasnt what i would call a NICE smile. “On the other hand this may make things easier. And more satisfying.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shrugged. “Doesnt matter. Dont worry about it.”

And just like that I stopped worrying about. There was something very reassuring about Joe.

“Its too bad you dont find me attractive Meg. Cause Im really the only chance you have. Too bad.” He zipped up his pants.

“What do you mean? My only chance?”

“The latest research on nymphomaniacs shows that they stop at one or they dont stop at all. In other words when a woman finds out that shes a sex addict—a slut with no self-control—” He was enjoying himself watching the way I reacted to those word. I didnt blame him. I knew it was only because of the mean things I had said to him.

“Well. She can stick to the first man she fucks after that. But if she goes on to a SECOND man then she is hooked on cheap sex for life. After that she will sleep with any man who bothers to suggest it.” He shrugged. “Like I said its too bad the first guy you threw yourself wasnt somebody you find attractive. You better go look for somebody else. But of course then it will be EVERYONE else.” He started to stand up.

“Wait a minute,” I grabbed his shoulder. “Please. Don’t go!”

He looked at me with scorn. “Why? Youve got other men to see.”

“No! Look at it my from my point of view. You really are the only chance I have to save myself.” I shivered. “I don’t want to be that way.”

“What way?”

“You know... Making myslef available to any man. Cant I just stay with you?”

Joe sneered as he got to his feet. “What makes you think I want you? You caught me by surprise at the door but the fact is YOU are not my type either. I never cared for Barbie doll types. All blond hair and long legs. And big boobs. Are those things real?”

“My breasts?” I tried to cover them with my hands. “Yes. Their real.”

“They make you look like a cow. I prefer a more petite woman. Why should I let myself be stuck with you for however long?”

I was on my knees. “Because I am desparate Joe. I will do anything to make you happy. Anything!” I looked up at him. “Let me prove it to you.”

“Well” he said. “Give it your best shot.”

And I eagerly went for his zipper again.

So we moved in togehter. We get along pretty well because I have to do everything he says. I dont mean he MAKES me. I CHOOSE to because I have to keep him happy. If I dont he can find some other girl. But I would have to stay celibate or turn into a slut who will sleep with any man. And I could NEVER stay celibate. I know that now.

Every morning I wake up and look over at Joe hoping he has a hard-on. If so I can suck him off. If I m REALLY lucky he will stop me and let me fuck him. Because I have found out that no matter how much I enjoy the sex—and I do oh I do—I only have an orgasm if HE is the one who suggests it.

So after that we go on through the day. If I happen to see him with a stiffy—even through his pants—I cant help myself. I just start grabbing at him. Kissing and hugging and whatever it takes to get him to say yes. Sometimes I try to wait for HIM to mention it—because that means I will get the chance to come. But I am not what you call a patient girl.

But the worst part is if I happen to see another man with a hard-on. I dont cheat on Joe—you know what would happen if I slept with another man! But my whole day is shot. I cannot concentrate on anything. And when I get home I just strip naked and when Joe gets home there I am kneeling in the hallway waiting for him.

He usually glares at me. “Oh for pete sakes. You saw some pretty little dick again?”

I hang my head in shame and nod.

“What are you Meg?”

“I am a slut.”

“What else?”

“A nympho. A whore—except I dont charge. A tramp.” By this time tears are pouring down my face. “Please Joe. I need you.”

“You dont need me. You just need a cock. Isnt that right?”

“I want YOUR cock.”

He sighed. “You are a bad girl Meg.”

“Thats right” I say but I am feeling better because I know what that means.

“And what should happen to bad girls?”

“They should be punished. Please punish me Joe.”

He sits down and sighs again. “Very well. Get the belt.”

I start to stand up.

“Who told you you could stand? Your being punished.”

So on all fours I scurry into the bedroom and get his biggest leather belt. I put the buckle in my teeth and hurry back to him and lay it at his feet.

“How many swats should a bad girl get?” he asks.

“Ten?” I say hopefully.

Joe shakes his head. “Twenty. Count them.”

So I turn around on all fours and he whips my ass. I dont enjoy that a bit but what choice do I have? I have to make him happy. When he is done he drops the belt and sighs. “You are more trouble than your worth sometimes Meg.” And starts to walk away.

“Joe?”

“What?”

I wiggle my ass and peek over my shoulder. “Wont you please stick that big thing in me?”

“What? After all that your still horny?”

“Desparately. Please Joe?”

And the sweetie gets down on his knees and fucks me like a dog. Sometimes I bark like one too.

I spend most of my spare time looking through porn sites for positions we havent tried or toys we dont own. Anything to keep his interest up because its all up to me. I HAVE to keep him happy. HAVE to.

One night we were lying in bed cuddling. I had just had an orgasm and was feeling so happy and something came to me. “You know Joe. I was just thinking about how we met.”

“Oh?”

“Whatever happened to that personality profile machine? Did you ever use it on anyone else? You never mentioned the results of the test.”

“Oh... I didnt come out with any publishable results. But it wasnt a complete waste.”

“No? How so?”

He kissed me on the nose. “It got me you. Didnt it?”

Isnt he sweet? Arent I just the luckiest girl in the world?