The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Uhhnnn,” I moan, running my fingers through my husband’s hair as I pretend to get off on his mediocre oral, fending him off as long as I can before he slides on the last condom in the pack (why does he insist on getting the ribbed ones? I hate the way they hurt) and makes himself heave with the effort of struggling to rock my world before I give up and roll him over and ride him the way I know he likes, the way he thinks I prefer it, which I suppose I do, since resigning myself to wearing out my ragged body trying to work out a quick and painless orgasm from him rather than getting drenched in the inevitable waterfall of failure sweat he secretes when he’s hovering over me technically counts as a preference.

So for now, I moan, and let him lick me, because it’s better than what comes next.

Honestly, he’s never been good at this. Sure, it blew my mind when we started dating, because he was my first. Your first is always the best, at least for a girl. It’s when you’re still feeling tight and every entrance is like Heaven rubbing up against the walls of Valhalla and even five inches is five inches of pure bliss. I once came six times in one day with him. Not faking a single one. And he was attentive, stamina of a bull, cock like a puppy, always ready to play.

Where has that gone?

The last two years since we’ve been married have been a spiral. He’s finally been letting me into his kinky fetishes, those ones he hid from me while we were dating because he said he was afraid I wouldn’t like him anymore if I knew what he was into. I mean, sure, hypnosis is weird, and a little stupid, but it could have been a lot worse. I was picturing whips, chains, diapers, animals, even, god forbid, kids. So a little mind control gets him off on the internet. Who cares?

Still, I would never let him try that shit on me. The closest I’ll ever get to a spiral in the bedroom is the little circles his tongue occasionally makes against my clit when he’s trying to be clever.

Like right now.

“Ooh, that’s it, Bobby, just like that,” I coo. But he moves to something else before I finish, and thinks I’m talking about that instead. As if lapping like a cat in milk at the side of my pussy would be what gets me off.

Whatever. I’m just too tired to correct him, and besides this is getting kinda dull.

I’m feeling oddly sleepy. Something about laying on my back while my husband fumbles around trying to figure out how my stuff works, I guess. Really lulls me down.

My eyes start to droop. In the blur of the lamplight I see his greasy hair bouncing between my thighs, in a rhythm. I can’t even feel whatever he’s doing down there, but the image is nice. I feel relaxed, the way you’re supposed to feel after sex, but I’m fine feeling it in the middle. It’s not like I’m going to cum tonight anyway.

So I let the feeling wash over me. The feeling of calm. Of center. I watch my husband’s ineffectual head rattling through my lips over and over and over and over, up down up down up down, and then something happens that I don’t expect: He does the spiral again. And this time he sticks with it. His tongue is firm as his head swivels round and round, the light glinting of the flecks of dirty blonde hair on his head, a circle around my clit, getting closer to the middle, passing it, sliding in closer, moving around, so close to it, so close, please touch it, oh god, I’m—

“Ahhh!” I shout, squeezing my thighs around Bobby’s head, and it’s like a thunderstorm just flew over me, and I’m drenched in a rain of pure warm energy that crackles in the static air. I stare at the patterns in the ceiling. I never noticed there were patterns there before. So pretty.

“Celia?” I hear a voice say.

“Uhn?” I respond weakly.

“My turn,” Bobby says.

I nod, barely taking my eyes off the ceiling long enough to see him climb onto the bed next to me. The ceiling has shapes on it, little shadows, so faint but so real. What are they?

My view is obstructed as Bobby’s face slips in front of mine. Before I have a chance to complain, he leans in and kisses me. My lips were already parted, apparently, because his probing tongue slips right in. I suck on it gently, the way he likes. I suppose he deserves it, for what he did for me. I should give him what he likes.

I feel his hardness pressed against my hip as he kisses me, and I know what to do.

“Lie down,” I whisper, pulling myself up, with what strength I do not know.

He lies back, his cock standing stock straight in the air. It reminds me of something. I can’t think of—

“Remember?” Bobby says suddenly.

I’m shaken out of my thoughts. “Remember what?”

He grins. “Our first time. Do you remember?”

Of course. Of course I remember, how could I not? That’s what his penis reminds me of, that hard need, that emptiness that I simply had to fill with him, that I did. We’d held out for a week of dating before the dam just broke. We were lying together in his dorm room, just staring at the ceiling and it just…happened. And happened again. And it kept happening, and from then on, I knew I loved him, and I would be with him, and all these years later I remember that night every time I see his cock standing straight up and pointing at the ceiling. That’s why I like riding him so much. I get to see it from that view.

The thought of that first night and the aftershocks of his tongue spiral have me wetter than I’ve ever been.

“I need you,” I whisper hotly, and leap for him, straddling his member with my pale legs, letting my breasts hang down low for him, big and round, his favorite part of me. Second favorite, he says.

I reach down for him, to position him and let him into me, but he pulls away.

“Ah ah ah,” he chides playfully. “I’m in charge tonight.”

‘Whatever,’ I think, ‘just fucking do it!’

But to him I play along, whimper and moan.

“Oh please, baby,” I groan, “I want it so bad.”

“Then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

He puts his lips to my ear. “Tell me I’m in control.”

He nibbles lightly on my earlobe. It’s aggravating and demeaning, but it’s what he wants, and, I realize, I want to give him what he wants.

“Bobby,” I say, “you’re in control.”

With a thrust, he plunges into me, taking my breath in a yelp of surprise. I’m dripping, and he slides to the hilt in one go, not a long way, but for some reason this time, every little bit feels twice as long, magically, it’s incredible, and within seconds I’m on the edge again.

‘Gotta keep it together,’ I think. ‘Gotta make love like a wife. Don’t want him getting the idea I’m some pornstar slut he can use when he wants.’

I lean down and kiss him as he thrusts into me again, and again, and again, picking up speed, and I rock back onto him, his rock-hard penis driving further and further as our thighs slap together. I slide my tongue over his.

He bites down.

“Ouch,” I say.

And then he pulls my hair.

‘Oh, he wants to play rough tonight,’ I think. ‘Well, I can do that. Just a bit. Just to make him feel good.’

“Mmm, Bob, squeeze my breasts,” I whisper seductively while he slows down his thrusts.

“No,” he says.

‘What the fuck?!’ I think.

“Uh, why not?”

“Because,” he says, and slaps my ass hard, the quake rippling through my bubbling ass cheeks and rocking my body, “I’m in control, not you.”

“But—” I start, but he slaps my ass again.

“I’m in control,” he says again.

‘I suppose I did say he was in control tonight,’ I think. ‘But still—’

He cuts off my thoughts with another firm ass slap.

“I’m in control,” he says again. “Say it.”

“You’re in control,” I say, with no hesitation, because he is. I love when he takes control. He’s so commanding. I just want to do whatever he says, and I absolutely love it.

Suddenly he begins to thrust into me faster and faster, lifting his hips to raise me off the bed while I fuck myself on his erection.

He reaches up and squeezes my jutting pink nipples.

“Ooh,” I moan. “That feels soooo hot!”

He lets his hips down, but he keeps pinching my nipples and I realize it feels totally awesome.

I can hardly focus on anything. The world around me is a blur. I’m lost in his fingers on my nipples as I lean into his hands, hoping he’ll maul my big titties with his strong commanding hands. It’s all so light and silly I can’t help but giggle.

He squeezes extra hard and my little nips hurt.

“Owie!” I squeal.

His right hand reaches up behind my head and he yanks on my hair again. Hard and strong, just the way I love it. The only thing I like more than getting my husband’s prick slick with my wet hot cunt is feeling it all over, the way he takes me like I’m nothing but a dumb little whore.

“Ooh, baby, yeah, oh fuck that’s good!” I scream.

I lean my head forward to make the tugging on hair that much tighter, and I nearly cum again, or maybe I do, it’s so hard to think with his other hand on my tits.

He lets go of my head at last, but I don’t stop bucking on top of him like he’s a bronco.

His left hand crashes down on my ass cheek.

“Who’s in control?” he growls.

“You are!” I cry. “You’re in control!”

His right hand reddens the other ass cheek.

“Talk dirty while you fuck yourself on my prick, slut,” he commands.

I want to oblige him, only something’s off.

“Slut?” I ask dubiously.

He reaches up and grabs hold of my hair, and the way he yanks me around while he calls me a slut makes me gush.

“You don’t think you’re a slut?” he asks.

“I didn’t—”

He tugs harder, my long brown tresses wrapped around his powerful fist.

“What’s your favorite thing in the whole world?” he asks.

“Fucking you!” I shout, because it’s the only thing I can think of, and when he pulls on my again, I know it’s the truth. There’s nothing better than this feeling.

“And what does that make you?”

“A SLUT!” I scream and pound my endlessly needy slit on his perfect dick because there’s nothing in the world I do better or want to do that could ever be better than this.

He spanks me even harder. “So get to it, slut!” he commands. “Talk dirty while you fuck yourself on me.”

“Unnngh, oh Bobby, you’ve got the best fucking dick, OH, fuck yes! Oh, please, ravage my cunt, use your man meat to split me apart, fucking do it, fucking pound me like the slutty little bitch in heat that I am!”

He reaches up with his fingers and squeezes my nipples like hard clamps, one after the other.

“Oh baby baby that’s so sexy the way you’re squeezing on my fat round titties! Uhnnn, you make my little cunny, like, so wet, and, OOOHHH! I just wanna fuck you alla time, please lemme fuck you forever baby, let Cici’s sloppy pussy make yer cock all hard and fuckable and stuff forever, please Bobby, PLEASE!”

At once, both of his hands come off my big bouncy boobies and slap down on my round butt cheeks and it’s sooooo hot and he’s sooooo strong and smart and I love him so much.

“Call me Master, Cici-slut,” Master says.

“Ooh, yes Master, I love you Master! Fuck your Cici, I’m your cunt slut whore, I’mma fuck you alla time. Cum for Cici, Master, pretty please cum for Cici?!”

He chuckles. “I’m not wearing a condom.”

“Condom?” I ask. “We’re, like, naked, we’re not wearing anything!”

“I could get you pregnant.”

“You wha?”

“I might put a baby in you.”

It clicks in my head. “Like, fucking do it, Master! OMG, yes, put a baby in Cici, come on, Master, knock me up, fill me with your hot baby goo, fuck Cici with your big fat cock and cum in my cunny and make me a fat sexy mommy!”

Suddenly he stops. “No,” he says.

I almost start to cry. I was so close! I wanna cum!

“B-but why?” I whimper.

“Because,” he says, holding still as I try to grind against him. “You’re not in control.”

“I’m not in control,” I repeat.

“I’m in control,” he says.

“You’re in control.”

“I’m your Master, and you’re my dumb little fuck slave.”

I nod. “You’re my Master, and I’m your dumb little fuck slave.”

He spanks me hard with both hands and stares into my eyes as I grunt in pain and pleasure.

“Forever,” he says finally.

“Forever,” I say back.

His cock plunges back into my slippery twat and I’m back in Heaven. He’s so perfect, his cock is just so fucking PERFECT!

“Oh Master oh Master oh fuck Master I’m gonna-AHHHHHHHHH!”

I feel his beautiful dick spasm and squirt and just like that he’s cumming in me and I can’t get enough of it. My whole body shakes and the room spins and shapes form and they all remind me of Master and his awesome cock and how I’m the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.

When I come to, Master is kneeling in front of my face with his big dick.

“Clean me up, slave,” he says.

“Yes Master,” I chirp and take his soft but still amazing cock into my unworthy mouth.

Sucking and slurping the cum and cunny juice from his member reminds me of something, but I don’t even want to try to think of it.

As far as I’m concerned, this feels like the first time, and that’s how it always will be.