The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The email arrived by surprise and I initially thought it was spam and should have gone to my email junk folder. However the title of the mail caught my attention. It simply said, “When will you be writing a new story?” I occasionally dabbled in erotic fiction and often posted to online sites, so clearly this was not junk mail. Leaning back into my sofa and pressing a Sunday morning coffee to my lips, I opened the mail.

The note was complimentary and the author was clearly a fan of my works. He simply wanted to know if I was going to continue to publish and when a new story might be coming out. I could not suppress a smile. The signature on the mail also got my attention. It simply said, “Master Alan.” The fact that someone would identify themselves online as a Master intrigued me and I had to know more. I decided to answer.

My reply to Master Alan was simple, there was a new story but I was conflicted on the ending and needed some inspiration. Hitting send, I wondered if I would here from this mysterious admirer again. Putting down my iPad, I moved toward the bedroom where I changed for my Sunday morning lap swim workout quickly dismissing the email from my head.

Monday was going to be pretty hectic as most Monday’s are in a law firm. Looking out my condo window, it was easy to see why I loved Charleston. I might love the city, but I still hated the heat and humidity of the late summer. Dressing for the heat was a constant challenge as lightweight sun dresses were not considered appropriate office attire for the lawyers. In a moment of weakness, I almost yearned for the COVID remote working days when comfort ruled my fashion choices. Finally choosing an outfit, I grabbed my coffee and a bagel and quickly checked my email. I have to admit that I had almost completely forgotten about Master Alan and was ready to shut down the computer when I remembered my mysterious fan. Not seeing an email from him, I sent another quick reply. Typing a single phrase, “And we all know that every good writer needs a good Master in her corner for support, guidance and inspiration,” I hit send and walked out the door.

Master Alan was flushed from my mind when I heard nothing from him. In my mind, I classified him as a player, and not a true Master as a Master would be respectful of time and interest and provide the courtesy of a reply. With this mindset, somewhat shocked when out of the blue, I saw an email from Master Alan on the last day of the month. In it, he answered many of my earlier questions.

Reading the email while sipping a wine, I discovered Master Alan was older, much older, over twice my age. Instead of being turned off, his maturity and way with words interested me and I found myself both intrigued and somewhat excited. The idea of having an older, more experienced partner for my explorations seemed appealing in many ways. He was professional, still working and somewhat tall. It did not take a genius to see that he considered himself as a Dominant in the virtual world. In fact, he clearly stated this in his reply. It was also clear that exploring the submissive side of strong, professional women was of great interest to him.

Over the next few days, Master Alan and I exchanged multiple emails, each more explicit and directing than the previous one. Before the exchange was over, I had agreed to try virtual submissiveness under his direction and tutelage and had received both an initial shopping list and instructions for the upcoming weekend. I agreed that I would follow them, while he agreed that I could use what was about to transpire between them as a blueprint for a new story. It was to be a win—win for everyone.

Sitting at home on Wednesday of the first week, I reflected and was surprised at how much I actually looked forward to replies to my notes from a mature stranger on the other end of a computer. As I reflected, I could literally feel my nipples harden and my pussy moisten and grow wet as we communicated by email. This was the thing of stories and often happened to my characters, but not me. Now, he was making me live the experience. It was then that he addressed me as Slave Heather for the first time.

I did not object in anyway. I was already going down this rabbit hole and he seemed to anticipate what I was thinking before I said anything. My shopping list grew greater and expanded to clip on jewelry for nipples, clit, labia etc, various items of lingerie, and an assortment of anal plugs. I planned to get all of these items on Friday evening after work although the plugs would be ordered online.

Master was well endowed. He had me visualize over and over his cock filling my mouth, pussy and ass. Live anal play was new to me and on Thursday night, he had me penetrate my ass with a lubricated finger for the first time. It was also the last orgasm I would experience until Sunday afternoon. Orgasms were denied over the weekend. Master was also annoying and somewhat offensive to women. I don’t know if this a test or just his personality. Somehow, he believed my sexuality was something that I could turn on/off with a switch and just the thought of him would turn me into a raving sexual maniac. It was almost humorous. He did have an effect on me, but it was not immediately overwhelming. “Men,” I thought, “sometimes they do not understand women at all.”

On Friday, I received multiple emails from Master while I sat in my office. His words created images that kept my nipples hard and my pussy wet. His words were graphic, very graphic. He made me tell him about my body’s reactions and I think he got great pleasure knowing he could keep me aroused with mere words. I have an active mind and keeping me aroused once my mind is working is not hard. Of course, he planned orgasm denial until Sunday afternoon. I agreed and although I could tease and touch, I could not cum.

He kept me naked at home and clamped with the jewelry. I did spend more time in front of a mirror than usual. I enjoyed looking at myself and loved to watch my face as I touched, but I did not cum. I ached. This was remote edging and I was, for the first time, a participant in my own torture.

I had a dinner with friends on Saturday night and was aroused the entire time. I did not go home with anyone, but it would have been so easy to do. As a professional woman, I hate to say that I had an deep desire to fuck that night, but I did. I actually would not have mattered if it was a male or female from my group of friends. It would not have taken me much to get off, but I wanted to see if I could make it to the 2pm Sunday target. I was convinced that I was not a slave to my desires.

When I got home, I had to again get and sleep naked. My thong was wet and went into the hamper. I reattached the jewelry to my nipples, clit and labia and attempted to get some rest. I fell asleep finally still aroused and about as needy as I ever have been in my life.

Sunday morning brought new notes from Master. He was almost teasing me about wanting to touch, how filled I was with need etc. Luckily, I had pool time and a long workout took off some of the edge. By the time I returned to my condo, it was after 12 and I could barely keep my eyes off the clock. 2pm was almost here.

At 2 pm, I stood in front of my full length mirror and removed my jewelry. I ached as blood flowed freely to areas where the jewelry was on my body. My nipples, clit and pussy literally pulsed with desire. I wanted to look at my body as I touched and watched my own orgasm sweep over me and sweep over me it did. The days of denial and teasing had me on edge and minutes after playing with my nipples and pussy, I fingered and penetrated my ass as directed by Master. That was it, I fell over the edge and came in a rush. The intensity of my orgasm surprised me. I was literally quivering as wave after wave of pleasure swept through me. I heard my own voice grunting and speaking inaudible words as I slumped to the floor unable to stand.

I don’t know how long I sat there before my mind refocused on the day. The first thing I did was touch again and then again. I feared Master would soon deny me the pleasures of the body and I was going to get my fill. When I finished, satisfied and content, my body was literally spent. My pussy glistened with fluids released during my, multiple orgasms and I reflected on what I went through.

I wrote to Master after pouring a wine. I was still naked, again adorned with jewelry, but relaxed. The edge was gone and I could face the new week. I had repairmen coming tomorrow and was due in court for two days midweek. I looked back on what’s happened and realized that I learned a lot about myself. I will compose a note to Master telling him if we are to move forward there must be some changes and some assumptions he has about how to deal with professional women are just wrong. If I am to change, he is too. If he does, my writing will become even more first person.