The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jeremy

It was an unseasonably pleasant morning in early February and he eyed the chapel door from across the quad, leaning against a cold stone wall and biding his time. He wanted to bump into Amanda Cooper on her way out of church. The big oak doors swung open and worshippers filed out into the sun. There she was, dressed in her Sunday best. A black overcoat. A cute red sweater open over a white blouse, a knee length gray skirt, sensible black shoes.

He dropped his cigarette and stamped it out as he walked toward her, making a point not to look her way.

“Hi, Jeremy.”

“Oh hey, Amanda. How’s it going?”

“Well, you know.”

He sure did. He had been her shoulder to cry on all year, practically since they’d arrived at college in the fall and found themselves down the hall from one another. He’d been smitten immediately. She was smart, articulate, friendly almost to a fault. Wonderful, big blue eyes and long, dark brown hair that framed her face beautifully. Full lips. Lips that made him think nasty thoughts about her, thoughts about sweet little Amanda Cooper falling to her knees while he unbuckled his belt.

“Yeah, I was wondering how you were dealing. Want to grab some lunch and talk?”

“Thanks, but I have a paper I need to work on. Maybe we can talk tonight?”

“C’mon, you’ll need to eat anyway sooner or later. Clear your head before you have to think too hard about anything.”

She smiled, revealing white, even teeth. “Okay, talked me into it.”

Jeremy had always been shy around women; he’d blundered into two serious high school relationship practically by accident. Girls like Amanda Cooper gave him particular problems; he was never sure exactly how to make his interest known without coming off as just another jerk trying to get into their pants. Her beauty and her sunny personality attracted him but also intimidated him, and he found himself in those first few days trying to figure out what he would say to her if he could just act like himself for five minutes. He’d made the deadly mistake of being her pal instead of following in the footsteps of the entire male population by making a pass at her, and he’d wound up her best guy friend instead of her boyfriend.

What a fucking nightmare. He wanted her so badly, and he had to offer his nonexistent insight into the male psyche every time one of her relationships went south. She would lie on her bed in boxers and a tank top and bare her soul to him, and all he could think about was bending her over her desk and sliding into her. Her perfect white skin. Her round ass. Her firm breasts. He had succumbed to temptation once when they were doing their laundry, taking advantage of her momentary absence to check the tag on one of her bras. 34c. That night he’d whacked off bitterly, embarrassed by his crude invasion of her privacy but helplessly excited in spite of himself.

Amanda

As they slid into a booth at the diner she briefly thought about that night a month ago when Jeremy had made a shy, halting pass at her, telling her about his true feelings for her, asking her out to dinner as a date, not just as friends. She’d been surprised, a little embarrassed, but she supposed she’d seen it coming. He was a sweet, friendly guy, practically her best friend at college, but guys were guys, and she’d sometimes wondered about his motives.

She’d told him she didn’t think of him that way, told him how much his friendship meant to her, how flattered she was. He had left after a few awkward minutes of apologies and explanations, and she’d expected him to fade out of her life; that was the way these things went. But Jeremy wasn’t like other guys, and after a while things had returned to normal between them. Now he was apparently over his crush, and he was going out of his way to help her deal with her latest romantic mess.

This one was Tom Fuller, a football player, but there had been others over the course of the year. She was always being hit on; it had started in junior high and she’d gotten used to it. It was a little insulting, because she knew they were only talking to her because of how she looked. But it was flattering and also gave her a lot of choices, so she guessed it was generally a good thing.

She’d lost count of the number of guys she’d been out with over the course of the school year. The dates were just a getting-to-know-you thing, nothing physical (well, sometimes a good-night kiss). There were some weeks when she had a date with a different guy every night. Every single one of them had asked her out again. She had said yes to five of them.

The problem wasn’t getting into relationships; it was keeping them from falling apart. One after another her boyfriends had dumped her, all of them in under a month. She thought Tom was different, but they’d been going out for almost exactly four weeks when he’d admitted that he was seeing someone else.

None of these guys had told her the truth, but she knew anyway. She was being dumped for not putting out. It was a choice she’d made in high school; she wasn’t going to let anybody take advantage of her. She’d been 12 when her dad moved to LA with another woman, and she’d seen the jerks her mother brought home. She knew what guys were after. When she lost her virginity it would be with the man she’d spend the rest of her life with. She was a Christian, and proud of it, and would remain chaste until her wedding night.

Not that it was easy. She knew that guys thought women were either whores or frigid nuns, but she struggled all the time with her sexuality. There’d been a period in high school when most of her friends were experimenting with sex, indulging their curiosity, satisfying their desires. Amanda had worked hard to resist the temptation. She’d had a few boyfriends in high school, had a few breathless moments in the backseats of their cars and the couches in their basements, her heart pounding in her chest, her face flushed, her pussy warm and moist and tingling.

She loved kissing, loved the feel of a man’s lips on hers, loved it when he cradled her face in his hands. And then he’d slide his hands under her shirt, and she’d let him, loving the feel of firm hands cupping her breasts, of eager fingers sliding into her bra to fondle her nipples. And sometimes her shirt and bra came off, and he would kiss her neck and her breasts and take her nipples between his lips and run his tongue over them, and she would moan and squeeze her thighs together and feel the delicious pressure between her legs.

But then he would slide a hand up her thigh or down her stomach, trying to undo her pants or pry her legs apart, and her desire and curiosity would battle with her good sense and her morals, and she would sit up and firmly move his hand away and know that she’d done the right thing.

Things hadn’t really changed in college. She knew it frustrated them, knew they wanted more from her. But she knew that, on some level, they’d lose respect for her if she let them have their way with her. She was waiting for the right man, the man who would respect her enough to wait.

Sometimes she’d make him feel better by unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his hard dick, wrapping her fingers around it and pumping it with her hand. She was always guilty and embarrassed afterwards, but she couldn’t help being excited by it. She still remembered the first time, when she was 16, like it was yesterday. She had been surprised by how big it was, by how much come had spurted out, covering her hand and his stomach, all warm and sticky. She liked doing it, liked feeling how hard she made them, and while she did it she’d sometimes think about what it would feel like to have that inside her, filling her up, making her come.

But she didn’t want that. They’d asked, they’d tried to guilt her into it, they’d told her she was weird, that she was being irrational. But she had a policy: nothing below her waist. Some of them had told her they’d be satisfied with blow jobs, but she wasn’t going to do that, either. Not that she wasn’t curious, but it was demeaning. Degrading. Her mouth was for eating and talking; no one was going to put his dick there.

So they’d kiss and touch each other, and sometimes she’d satisfy them with her hand, and then she’d go home and lie awake thinking about it, and sometimes her hand would stray down and she’d stroke herself slowly, slowly, until she shuddered and climaxed, imagining her legs wrapped around his waist, his big hard dick moving in and out, in and out.

And always, after a few weeks, they would have a conversation, and he would say that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere, or that he didn’t deserve her, or that he needed some time to himself. And she’d cry a little, and talk to her friends, and talk to Jeremy about how she felt and why guys did the things they did.

Jeremy

Her problem was that she had no concept of what went on inside guys’ heads. They didn’t want to marry Amanda Cooper, they wanted to fuck her. That didn’t mean they only wanted to fuck her, but it did mean that a relationship centered around kissing and the occasional hand job wasn’t going to do the trick. She’d never explicitly told her what she would and would not do with her boyfriends, but she’d danced around it enough that he’d gotten the picture.

Her problem was that she wanted the best of both worlds. She wanted a nice Christian boy who would respect her and want to marry her, but she didn’t want to date the campus eunuchs who fit that profile. She was pretty, she was friendly and she exuded a casual, unconscious sexuality. She had no problem attracting the guys she really wanted to date: the athletes, the frat boys, the guys who planned on law school or a top-notch MBA program. They’d flirt, they’d laugh, they’d go to dinner and a movie. Then they would assume that she’d act the way their other girlfriends had acted, and when she slammed on the brakes one too many times they’d leave her by the curb and go looking for something else.

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out this pattern, and he was sure that Amanda recognized it too. In more sensitive language it’s what he told her during all of their heart-to-hearts on the subject of her love life: she had to find a guy who would love her and respect her, and she was attracting and pursuing relationships with the wrong ones.

Still, she was incapable of getting over the idea that the perfect man was right around the corner, and she’d started to believe it was Tom Fuller. Tom Fuller the senior. Tom Fuller the linebacker. Tom Fuller whose reputation was known even to the freshmen. But not, apparently, to Amanda, who was devastated when she found out that the man of her dreams was getting over the hand job blues by fucking the star of the women’s tennis team.

Jeremy had gone through a period when he’d felt superior to those guys, and wondered why Amanda didn’t see that he was the kind of man she really wanted. Then he’d taken a step back and realized the truth: he was just like them. He was no exemplar of sexual restraint or respect for women. He’d quickly persuaded his two high school girlfriends to sleep with him. Even with his luck not working out so well in college, he’d engaged in episodes of drunken groping and fellatio with more than one tipsy co-ed. His feelings for Amanda couldn’t be any less dirty than the next guy’s. Was he better than the jocks and frat boys she dated just because he was smarter and didn’t play sports?

The only important difference between him and a guy like Fuller was that Fuller had the balls to go after what he wanted, and the confidence to bring it off. He hadn’t fucked Amanda, but he’d groped her and had her jack him off, and then moved on to greener pastures.

At the same time that Amanda was falling for Fuller, Jeremy had made an awkward attempt to start a romantic relationship with her. He’d stumbled, he’d blushed, he’d generally made a fool out of himself. She had turned him down as gently as she could. He figured that was the end of any kind of relationship with Amanda; he knew how these things went, and they suddenly ran out of things to talk about and started laughing nervously at inappropriate times.

He started spending more and more time in the library, drowning his sorrows in school work. He’d been slogging through an impenetrable essay about the early industrial revolution when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He’d never seen this guy before; he was tall and blond and his smile was all teeth. Jeremy figured he wanted someone to watch his stuff while he took a piss.

“Hi, Jeremy.”

“Hey.... How’s it going?” Shit. Who was this guy?

“Pretty good, how about you?”

“Okay, thanks.” He sometimes had trouble assigning names to faces, but completely forgetting someone was a first. He’d been pretty bombed at Steve’s party the other night. Had he blacked out?

“You don’t look okay, man. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

What the fuck. “This is a little embarrassing, but I don’t remember your name.”

“I’m Nick.” Another toothy smile.

“And we met....”

“At Steve’s party.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Sorry, I was a little out of it.”

“Hey, it happens to the best of us. Listen, I have to get going, but I found a something you’ll enjoy. It might help you with the problem we were talking about.”

“Which problem was that?” He didn’t remember any of this. At all.

“Amanda.” He smiled again, but it was all in his mouth; his eyes were dark and blank. For an instant Jeremy remembered a National Geographic documentary, a great white shark tearing apart a bloody chunk of meat. Nick laid a book on the table. “Enjoy. Don’t worry about returning it; I’ll track you down if I need it back.”

His new friend was halfway to the stairs before Jeremy could think of anything to say. It was certainly reassuring to know that he was becoming a blackout-prone alcoholic who dealt with his romantic troubles by confiding in weird strangers. He looked at the book. It was tiny, with a cracked black leather cover. Nothing on the front. He leafed through the first few pages. No title. No publication information. Nothing about the author. Actually, the author wasn’t named at all. No frills. Not much book, either; he flipped from beginning to end and counted 20 pages. The last few pages looked like a recipe.

Amanda

She loved chocolate, and Jeremy was a sweetheart. He’d gone home for the weekend and arrived back that morning, and he’d brought her one of his mom’s brownies. Cheaper than dessert, and probably a lot less fattening than those huge slabs of chocolate cake they served. Jeremy liked to tease her about her preoccupation with staying healthy and eating well; he didn’t think she needed to worry about it. She liked to think that she owed at least some of her looks to her healthy lifestyle.

She had trouble resisting chocolate, though, and she nibbled on her brownie as they continued their conversation about her pathetic love life. She’d heard nasty rumors about Tom and that bitch on the tennis team, and when she’d confronted him he’d just flat-out admitted it and dumped her. The same old stuff about how he wasn’t good enough for her, wasn’t ready for that kind of relationship, blah, blah. Just because she wouldn’t sleep with him.

Jeremy was giving her all his usual advice, and as usual she knew he was right. But it just didn’t seem possible that she couldn’t find just one confident, attractive guy who was willing to forego easy sex in favor of a serious relationship. She wasn’t conceited or anything, but she knew she was pretty and smart and nice. Plus, it’s not like she didn’t enjoy fooling around.

It’s not like she didn’t see the appeal of sex, she just controlled her urges. Couldn’t guys do the same thing? She loved the idea of being thrown over a table and fucked until she was sore, of getting her pussy pounded until her lover pulled out and came all over her breasts. She wondered what it would feel like to get a guy off with her lips and tongue, savoring the taste of come in her mouth....

“Amanda?”

“Huh?”

“Earth to Amanda. You okay?”

“Yeah.... Sorry, just thinking.” Thinking? What was that all about? She couldn’t remember ever fantasizing so vividly, even when she was masturbating, even when she was actually with a guy.

“Hey, listen,” Jeremy said. He sounded serious, and she looked him in the eye. He seemed to think for a second, then spoke again. “Just do what you want to do. You’ll be happier that way.”

That was strange advice coming from Jeremy, who usually told her she needed to change her outlook if she wanted to be happy. Whatever. She knew he was trying his best to help her, and she didn’t exactly make it easy for him. She finished her brownie and he finished his coffee, and they got up to leave. She felt dampness between her legs, and her thoughts started to stray again.

Jeremy

He was sprawled on his bed, leafing through his bio textbook and praying for a knock on his door. Jeremy had assumed that “Nick” and his mysterious book had been some kind of practical joke. It seemed like something one of his wiseass friends would dream up to give him shit about his non-relationship with Amanda. So he’d thrown the book in the corner and waited for the culprit to reveal himself. No one had.

The book had sat there, seeming authentic enough, promising the secret to winning Amanda’s mind, body and soul. It was actually an interesting read. Jeremy was a realist, and knew it was all bullshit. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He imagined Amanda at his beck and call, hopelessly in need of him. Willing to do whatever he asked of her. He jacked off to the idea at night, and it was the first thing on his mind in the morning. Finally he’d had enough. He’d gone home for the weekend and done some baking. He knew Amanda couldn’t resist chocolate.

Now he was waiting. He thought she’d seemed a little spacey at lunch, but couldn’t tell for sure. Whatever. At least she hadn’t stood up in the middle of the restaurant and accused him of trying to slip her the date-rape drug, as he’d feared she would.

He looked at the clock. Quarter to midnight. Knock, knock. His heart jumped.

Amanda

God, he was hot. She’d never noticed how cute he was until today. The way he looked in her eyes made her melt. She’d been thinking about him all afternoon, fantasizing about him. She’d never thought of him that way, but all of a sudden it seemed to fit.

She’d struggled all afternoon and into the night to finish her paper, and now she wanted to see Jeremy. Just to talk, she told herself as she showered and shaved her legs. As she combed her hair she thought of all the jerks she’d dated, and wondered how she’d managed to miss the great guy right down the hall. She put her comb back on the dresser and sprayed some perfume on her right wrist.

As she rubbed her wrists together she started wondering what she was doing; she was just going over to talk to Jeremy, and she was getting ready like it was a date. She shook her head and got up to leave. Then an impulse overtook her and she grabbed the perfume again and sprayed a little down her tank top, into her cleavage. She’d never done that before; it made her feel sexy and a little naughty. It felt nice.

Wow, she was damp again.

Jeremy

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Amanda.

“Come in.”

The door opened and there she was, in her usual bedtime outfit. Her flannel boxers came down to mid-thigh; her long, smooth legs looked freshly shaved. The tops of her breasts peeked out above the tight fabric of her light blue tank top.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you before I went to sleep.” She crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed.

“How’d your paper turn out?”

“Fine. I just wanted to thank you for putting up with me, and helping me deal with all of my problems. I know it’s not your favorite thing in the world. So, thanks. Thanks a lot.” She turned to look at him, and he thought her eyes seemed... different, somehow. Her lips were slightly parted. He noticed she was flushed. He felt his cock stiffen. His heart pounded.

“You’re welcome. It’s really no problem.”

“You’re so sweet.” She rested a hand on his thigh as she pulled her feet onto the bed. “I wish I could find a guy like you.”

He put his hand on hers and looked into her eyes.

Amanda

“Mmmm. Just like that, just like that.” Jeremy was sprawled out on his bed, his pants around his ankles as she sucked his cock. She had practically jumped him, leaning in to kiss him with an open mouth, grabbing his hand and placing it on her breast. He had responded in kind, squeezing her tit firmly with one hand as the other guided her fingers to the bulge in his pants.

His dick felt so big and hard; she couldn’t resist unzipping his pants so she could play with it. Yeah, it was as big and beautiful as she’d hoped, all strong and hard as she ran her fingers over it. She loved the way she made him moan with satisfaction, the way his kisses became wetter and more passionate as she jacked him off. She loved his big hard cock. Just thinking that word made her even wetter. She always thought that was a dirty, nasty word, but now it seemed to fit just fine.

He pulled her tank top off over head and pushed her onto her back, just staring at her. Staring at her breasts, her beautiful boobs, her big tits. Guys thought about them like that, why shouldn’t she? She ran her hands through his hair as he leaned over and began tonguing her right nipple. It felt so good, so nice to have her hard nipples in his mouth, between his lips, between his teeth, feeling his tongue stroking them. He made her feel so good. She wanted to make him happy, and she knew what guys wanted.

She pushed him away and onto his back, licking her lips and staring at his stiff dick. For a moment she hesitated. She wasn’t like this. If she really liked him and he really liked her then the right thing was to wait. Wait for a serious commitment before she tasted cock for the first time. Would he respect her after his hot, hard meat sprayed sweet come into her mouth? Oh, God. She shuddered and moaned and bowed her head, gingerly licking his cock before she enthusiastically slid the throbbing head into her hot, wet mouth.

Jeremy

“Mmmm. Just like that, just like that.” He felt his orgasm welling up inside him and fought to control it. He wanted to enjoy this for a while. Amanda Cooper sucking his cock, her bare tits swaying as her head bobbed up and down. He knew she’d never done this before, but she could’ve fooled him. Her tongue circling the head of his cock. Her wet lips sliding up and down his shaft. She was making little noises as she sucked him off, noises of hunger and desire.

“God that feels good Amanda.”

She looked up as he said her name, her big blue eyes meeting his gaze, and she seemed to smile around his shaft while her tongue flicked the tip of his cock. That was all he could take. He let himself go, and Amanda’s eyes seemed to light up as he filled her mouth with jizz.

Amanda

Yummy. It was even better than she’d hoped. The taste of it, the way he groaned with satisfaction and sprayed into her mouth, filling it with come, the naughty thrill she felt as she swallowed it in two wonderful gulps. It coated her mouth and throat and tongue, and she savored the aftertaste. She smiled as she let his softening cock slide out of her mouth. She rested her head on his thigh and he stroked her hair, and she watched as his cock, still moist from her, began to soften.

Suddenly she felt embarrassed, humiliated. Jeremy was a nice guy, the kind of guy she’d been looking for, and she had messed everything up. She had come over to “talk” to him, and wound up giving him a blow job. What was he supposed to think? Well, that wasn’t hard to figure out; he thought she was a slut. And he was right, wasn’t he? She didn’t look up at him, not wanting him to see her red cheeks and wet eyes.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She sat up and felt around for her top, ignoring his question. She still wasn’t looking at him, but she could tell that his eyes were fixed on her bare chest as she pulled her tank top over her head. Once she was dressed she walked quickly to the door. She kept her head back on the way to her room and managed to get under her covers before bursting into tears. Her cheeks were burning, and she tried to ignore the bitter taste of Jeremy which lingered in her mouth.

Jeremy

He lay stunned on his bed, unsure whether he should follow her or not. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then pulled up his pants. That had been amazing, the best head of his life. She was so beautiful, so passionate, so surprisingly good at it. He had known she had a lot of pent-up sexual energy, but he hadn’t expected things to happen so quickly. Quickly? He hadn’t expected anything to happen at all. He should have been shocked, amazed, appalled. Instead he just felt satisfied.

Of course, he hadn’t counted on her running and hiding afterwards. He walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer, fishing the book out from under a mess of old notes. He slouched into his chair and opened up to page one.

After a second read he thought he had figured out the problem. The book made a few tantalizing promises. After a woman ingested the recipe she would focus her sexual desire on the first person she talked to. Inhibitions would lower, buried cravings would rise. That had sounded great, but now he realized that there was nothing in the damn book which would keep Amanda from feeling bad about what she had done. The recipe was jacking up her sex drive and eroding her self-control, but her conscience was still intact.

Shit. He didn’t want a miserable sex addict, he wanted a real relationship with her.

Wait a second.

He shook his head at his own hypocrisy. If he wanted a real relationship with her he wouldn’t have resorted to mind-control potions doled out by strange men, right? Amanda was a wonderful person, but he would have traded all of their wonderful conversations to get his cock in her mouth. That didn’t make him proud, but it was true.

As far as her feelings and self-respect were concerned, she’d get over it. After all, she hadn’t seemed overly troubled when she was jacking off the captain of the football team. He was sure she could incorporate blow jobs into her finely tuned moral code.

But it wasn’t going to stop with blow jobs. And he knew himself well enough to know that it wasn’t going to stop with vanilla missionary sex, either. How far could he bend her before she broke? Yuck. He didn’t want to think like that. He couldn’t help himself, though, and he felt himself harden as he defiled Amanda Cooper in his mind.