The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You need to relax.”

David could hear Brian’s voice through the telephone, but he was having trouble making the words make sense. ‘Relax,’ he was vaguely familiar with the concept, but the first semester of law school had made such a concept seem like a far-off fantasy. Relaxing was something other people did; people who had no need to memorize obscure Contract Law cases or spend hours Blue Booking for instructors who fed the competitive impulses that turned the otherwise friendly population of first-year law students into fiendish piranha.

“Brian, I would love to come to your party, but I have to ace my Con Law final. I’ve had two interviews with Todd’s father’s firm, but I know they’re ‘iffy’ about my GPA. Any slip-up might be enough for them to go with somebody else this summer. And I’m not about to let that happen.”

Brian might not have had David’s grades, but he had the instincts of a born lawyer, and he knew that his friend needed a breather, anyhow. “Look, David. It’s Friday night and the final isn’t ‘till Tuesday. It’s just gonna be a few guys, a few drinks, some music, and then you can hibernate in the library all weekend.” He laughed. “Look—you can consider it an investment: one night of chilling out can save you months worth of therapy later, after the nervous breakdown? Okay?”

“Fine, fine. Give me an hour and I’ll be there, okay?” Brian, once he’d gotten the concession, didn’t bother to gloat. “Sure thing, catch you later—and David, clean yourself up. There’ll be bachelors here, tonight.” David, still laughing at his friend, hung up the phone and hopped into the shower.

A few minutes later, getting out, he studied himself in the mirror. Though law school hadn’t done much for his physique—he spent far more time in the library than he used to spend in the gym—he was still pretty toned. At twenty-four, he wasn’t quite the Club Kid he’d been in college, but he hadn’t yet (or at least he told himself) crossed over into ‘real’ adulthood. He felt that his features kept him pretty solidly in the “handsome-to-cute” range; short brown hair, hazel eyes, not so pretty folks were constantly proposing on the street, here in Manhattan, but he hadn’t been thrown out of any beds, either.

Not that Columbia Law School left him too much time for boyfriends. Instead of dreaming of steamy trysts on the beach, he seemed to have mostly nightmares about waking up in the middle of Torts class unprepared. He knew that the stress was getting to him: but there really wasn’t enough time to go see the school’s counselors like they recommended. He’d have to either ditch class, or cut down on his reading time. And the thought of doing either of those things sent his heart into worse palpitations than the nightmares did.

He studied the mirror a bit more closely. Sure, his chest and abs weren’t the problem, but those nice almost-blue circles under the eyes certainly would be sure to scare off any prospective lovers, he thought. If that didn’t deter them, then the muscle spasm his shoulders kept threatening him with, thanks to the tension in his back, or the seemingly permanent crease that was starting to grow in his forehead. Great. He’d graduate with a J.D. and a whole new set of age-lines.

Shaking his head out of that particular train of thought, David pulled a pair of black jeans and a gray sweater out of the closet and dressed. A casual party, Brian had said. No need to dress up too much. He dug under the bed for his Fluevogs and slipped ‘em on; oxblood, for a splash of colors. He was tired of these Manhattan parties where everybody seemed to be trying to win the contest of who could cover themselves with the most square feet of pure black.

He hurried down the three flights of stairs and down the block to the subway. Brian was subletting this apartment from a friend of his mother’s—David envied him for the sweet West Side two-bedroom almost as much as he envied how Brian managed to get grades almost as good as David’s when he spent barely half the time studying that David did. David had managed to find a guy looking for a roommate down in Hell’s Kitchen, and admittedly, there wasn’t anything wrong with his place. It was just frustrating to finish work at the library at 2am and then realize you still had to catch a train downtown to get home.

He was lucky and managed to catch an uptown local that was just arriving at the station when he was. He grabbed a seat and leaned back as the train started moving, still trying to get the thought of Constitutional Law out of the back of his mind. He glanced across the aisle of the train, and almost did a double take. By coincidence, this hunk that he’d spent hours mooning over in the Columbia gym was sitting across from him, dressed up for a night on the town.

Seeing that the guy was reading his magazine, David felt safe to watch him for a bit: he’d thought that nothing could top how this guy looked in the gym—his body had that perfect balance of natural muscle that made you think he’d toned it through lots of practice in the sack, rather than endless reps in the weight room. Blonde crew cut, chiseled features—and a sort of unself-consciousness that made it seem like he had not a friggin’ clue just how beautiful he was. David was nearly mesmerized by hint of nipple that you could see through the sheer shirt that was stretched across the broad torso. It was true, he thought, it’s better when a little of the skin is covered up.

The train slowed to a halt and David leaned over to check which station they’d arrived at. One more. Wondering if his dream man had left the train, he glanced back across the aisle to find that sweet pair of blue eyes looking right back at him. David felt his cheeks flush and he glanced down—busted! He glanced back up, half-sheepishly, after a second, only to discover his commuting companion still watching him, with a sort of lazy, friendly grin on his lips that sent David’s stomach lurching a bit with nerves and sent a jolt right down to his cock. I guess it was stupid to just assume he was straight, David thought.

Realizing he hadn’t responded to the smile, David conjured up one in return, hoping that his face wasn’t as red as he felt. Why couldn’t he have run into this guy on campus or in a bar or something? What were you supposed to say to somebody on the subway? His mind seemed to go blank even as he felt the train start to slow again. David stood up, as the stud opposite him just sort of watched him do so; his expression slightly expectant.

“Um, hey,” David managed, tentatively. “This is my stop.” The expression on the guy’s face was friendly, but a bit puzzled by this opener, and David beat a hasty retreat out of there as soon as the doors opened. He fled up the stairs without glancing back. He was pretty sure that the blonde would be sitting there, laughing at the socially inept guy who hadn’t really been able to string two sentences together. Talk about a great first impression.

As he made his way to Brian’s apartment, a thousand better things he could have set slipped through his mind. In his fantasies, he was witty and self-possessed; he managed to charm the stranger and invite him to the party, where everybody was impressed and the evening eventually turned into a quiet tryst on the fire escape where...well, the imagery collapsed as David’s mind provided a more accurate rendition of his performance on the subway. He would have done better to just stay home and studied, and saved himself the embarrassment.

Two hours later, he crawled out of the window and onto the fire escape of Brian’s apartment. Brian’s idea of a “few guys” had turned out to be a crowd of immense proportions, and the longer David tried to socialize, the more he felt out of touch with all of the folks drinking and dancing and having a good time. He wanted nothing more than to forget about all the work waiting at home, or about the missed chance down on the subway, but the more he wanted to put his mind elsewhere, to more it returned there. He’d filled his glass half-full of Stoli Citron and headed for the window to avoid the shrill attentions of one of his first-year classmates from Westchester. Her voice seemed pitched to avoid the normal human tones of hearing and aimed directly for animals gifted with a larger range. She’d turned his stress headache into a near-migraine.

Barely a few sips into his impromptu headache cure, he heard the telltale metallic “clangs” that indicated somebody was traveling down the fire escape from the floor above. David was struggling to compose something that vaguely resembled a smile when a surprisingly warm voice offered its own greeting. “Hey there—you better be careful. Sit out here all quiet like that and somebody might step on you.”

David glanced over and smiled a bit, though the expression seemed to stall on his face. Brian had been telling him stories about the hot guy who moved in upstairs, but David had basically chalked the situation up to Brian’s usual good-natured hyperbole. In this case, the end result was pure understatement. David had never been into the ‘Daddy’ type, and the new arrival was easily about fifteen years David’s senior, but looking up into the deep brown eyes of the unexpected arrival, David decided that he’d be willing to make the leap.

Without warning, the man slid his legs over the edge and sat down next to David. “Hey there, I’m Eric,” he introduced himself, glancing out across the alley over the expanse of lit windows that cast a light over the city like a net of square stars. He was a bit taller than David, and had slid in close enough so that David was acutely conscious of how the man’s body filled out the oxford shirt and how solid the thigh was that slid up next to his own. “I hope you don’t mind if I hang out here for a while,” he began. “I live upstairs. David invited me to this party, but I’m not really big on crowds,” he admitted.

David felt the now familiar closing of the throat that was becoming a habit, it seemed, as soon as he ended up in close proximity to a handsome guy. “I’m David,” he said, smiling a bit, taking a gulp of his drink. Maybe the vodka would help knock down the wall of incoherence that threatened to wreck his chances for the second time this evening. “I’m from Brian’s class over at Columbia.”

Eric seemed not to take too much notice of David’s inability to speak, and David was relieved to find that after a few minutes, his nerves seemed to vanish. All the law students at the party had served only to remind him of all the work that he’d left at his apartment, where Eric’s mellow manner did the exact opposite. Eric’s offhand comment about how he knew law school must be a lot of work opened up the floodgates, and David found it amazingly easy to share his frustrations and his fears with Eric, who was a good listener.

David had finished off his drink, and Eric offered to get him another, as well as something for himself, while he said ‘hi’ to Brian. “Wait right here,” Eric instructed him, and David felt all too willing to comply. The combination of the vodka and a sympathetic ear had done a lot to un-knot the tension that had been bothering him. He glanced at his watch and realized how much time had passed.

“I’ll try not to bend your ear with all of my problems,” he said, apologetically, once Eric squeezed back out onto the fire escape, a few minutes later. “I don’t want to monopolize the conversation.”

“I don’t mind,” was Eric’s only response, and the tiny smile that slipped across his strong jawline was enough to send David’s heart beating a little faster. “So,” he asked, hoping to turn the topic to less of a personal place. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a therapist,” Eric answered, and David felt his face flush.

“So I guess you spend your whole workday listening to people’s problems,” David muttered. “And here I went spending a half-hour of your time at a party going through my own hassles with law school,” he said, chagrined.

“Not really,” Eric said, watching David’s face with an element of obvious attention that blunted the edge of David’s embarrassment even as it encouraged some stirring elsewhere. “Mostly,” Eric went on, “I think your problem is that you’re just not sleeping enough.”

“Not sleeping?” David echoed. “The point is I need more time to get my work done, not sleep.”

Eric shook his head, glancing back out over the nightscape. “Not at all, David,” he said, seriously. “Unless somebody is fully rested, they can’t work to their full potential,” he argued. “You sound like you know what you’re doing—it’s not like the material is beyond you, but when you don’t get enough rest, when you can’t let yourself relax enough to unwind and let all your reading sink in—well, that’s when you get a little behind, each night, and everything piles up, one on the other, you get more and more tired, until you end up like you are now—totally stressed.”

David thought about this for a bit. “That makes sense,” he agreed. “But I don’t know how to break the cycle,” he said. “I try to go to sleep, and I just lie awake thinking of all the work I have to do. Or I have some kind of school nightmare and wake up more tired than I went to bed.”

Eric just smiled. “Well, but see, you already know what you need to do—like coming out tonight, coming to this party, taking a breather. You break the routine, and the stress just falls away, doesn’t it? I mean, you feel more relaxed now than you did before you came out, right? You certainly look a lot more relaxed.”

David nodded. He certainly did feel better. He smiled a bit. “Well, I think I should thank you for that,” he said. “This conversation has done more to mellow me out than anything else I’ve tried.”

Eric smiled. “Well, whenever I get stressed out from work, I sit out on my own fire escape,” he began, pointing out towards where the lights stretched out on the buildings, and past that, you could see the gentle curve of the trees in Central Park, “and I just watch the lights, from the buildings, each one a tiny window into somebody’s life, imagining each person getting ready for bed, ready to go to sleep, going through each step they have for ending the day, just watching the lights and trying not to think about anything, just watching and letting the lights relax me, the sounds of the city slowly just fading into one quiet piece of music that also relaxes me a little bit more. Don’t you hear that, David?”

Eric’s voice had shifted to a quieter, more intimate pitch, and David nodded in agreement, though he was also just watching the interplay of lights, like Eric said—they really were sort of beautiful—and it was the sort of thing that you never paid enough attention to while you were living in the city.

“And as I watch the city getting ready for bed, David, I start to relax myself,” Eric continued. “Each breath I take starts to relax me, each light I watch shutting off sends my body a little bit closer to sleep, until I find myself getting more and more relaxed, so relaxed I can hardly remember what it was that got me stressed out in the first place, those things seem so unimportant, so far away, all that matters is the sound of my breath, going in and out, and how relaxed each breath makes me. More and more relaxed. More deeply relaxed in every muscle as I just let go, breath, and slip a little deeper into pleasant relaxation. The sounds of the city fade, into the background, just like all the worries you have, and all that remains is a sense of deep, quiet peace, one that grows more and more profound with each breath you take.”

David drifted a bit, listening to Eric’s words, until whatever Eric was saying seemed to blur a bit and not really matter any more. Eric was so right: somehow he’d lost that quiet place inside himself where he could totally let go and relax completely, and it was so nice to find it again. Part of him became dimly aware of the exquisite warmth of somebody’s hands rubbing his neck, but it hardly registered, because he was finding it more and more difficult to think of anything besides how relaxed he felt, how calm, how quiet, how good.

His mind began to wander, and the lights of the city began to fade a bit, and he found himself daydreaming about his trip on the subway, sitting across from the guy from the gym, but in the dream he could see that the guy was surrounded by some kind of halo; up close he could see how absolutely beautiful the young man was: his features were so much more perfect than any other man he had ever seen, like the beatified visions of saints from some pre-Raphaelite painting. This time, his speechlessness wasn’t an embarrassing moment; it was the appropriate reverence for a devotee to present to his God.

The blonde with the crew cut stood, his expression quiet and subtly knowing, and he began to move across the space between he and David. To David, the motion seemed to slow, to stretch out, allowing his eyes to worship the man’s form, watching the shift of muscles beneath the smooth surface of his shirt and pants. It all seemed so natural, so pre-ordained, that David should merely slip off the bench of the subway car as his lover approached, arms reaching up around so that his hands could slide up the back of sculpted thighs and cup the perfectly shaped ass, leaning his face in to caress the bulge at the crotch of the man’s pants with either cheek.

David was filled with such a sense of delicious submission, realizing that he wasn’t meant to say anything, that he needed only to wait until now, until this perfect moment when the man who was meant to own him would allow him to do whatever he required, to allow David the privilege of pleasing him, to offer his body up for the worship it so richly deserved. David’s mouth licked the stiffening cock through the pants, inhaling the scent there, hungry to take more of the man into his body, wishing to melt through the layers of clothing so that their flesh could meet without any barrier.

Hungry and reckless, David began to tear open the blonde’s pants with a ferocity he’d never had, even in his suck-and-fuck-anything-that-moved days in college. He let out a low, deep moan of satisfaction as the slowly stiffening prick of his lover was released into view, not wasting any time but lowering his mouth around it with a desperate, hungry reverence, making love to it with all the passion and ardor that his body could express. If he could just manage to show his lover how much he wanted him, if he could please him sufficiently, if he could only prove how much he deserved to be the one who had the privilege of sucking this cock, of making love to this perfect body.

He soon fell into a delicious rhythm, bobbing his head up and down on the glorious prick, both wanting to bring his lover to the best and strongest climax ever, and yet also hoping that he’d never reach it, so that he could continue blowing him forever, just allowing the feel and taste of this perfect man fill every sense, as he sucked deeper and deeper, his whole body moving in a perfect, beautiful rhythm that would never end, ever.

“David, hey—David. I think you spaced out on me.”

David shook his head, lightly, trying to clear the cobwebs that seemed to have taken up residence there. Still, there was a warm, heavy feeling that seemed to permeate every limb that he didn’t want to get rid of. It took him a while to realize where he was; at Brian’s party, talking with Brian’s devastatingly handsome older neighbor.

“Whoa, Sorry, Eric,” he said feeling his face flush. He realized that his drink was finished. How long had he dozed off for?

Eric just smiled. “I must have bored you right to sleep,” he said, though there was something in his tone that made David feel better: he obviously hadn’t minded that David had drifted off. “I’ll try not to do the same Tuesday night.”

“Tuesday?” echoed David, confused.

“Tuesday.” Eric repeated, as he might to a slow child. He reached over to David’s shirt pocket and tapped a white card there. David didn’t remember Eric giving it to him. “You’re my new pro bono case,” Eric continued. “After you Con Law final, you can come over here, and I can start working with you to see if we can’t do something about your insomnia. You deserve a good night’s sleep,” he said. “And I intend to see you get one.”

David smiled, in response. Talk about a lucky break. Not that he wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to spend more time with this guy, but just chatting with him had already seemed to relax him so much—who knew how good he’d feel after a real ‘session’ with the Doctor. “I look forward to it, then,” he said. “Tuesday.” He slipped back and stood on the fire escape, preparing to climb back in the window. “But I’ve never had any kind of therapy before,” David admitted. “I hope that I respond well to it,” he half-grinned, sliding out through the window.

Eric watched the young man leave with a very satisfied smile indeed. “Oh, I think you’ll respond quite well,” he murmured, to the night air. “Quite well, indeed.”