The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My orgasmic release on Sunday after being edged for almost three days, was intense and in my note to Master Alan, I told him so. Of course, he wanted all of the intimate details, which I was somewhat reluctant to give him. In his notes, he kept referring to me as a slave, or Slave Heather, but that term kept putting me off. I may be exploring my submissive side, but I was still a professional woman, saw myself as one; I was not a slave and certainly not his slave.

Monday was a holiday in the U.S., Labor Day, but I had repairmen coming to the condo as I was home and they were not taking the holiday off. Of course, this ruined the Master’s plans for me as I refused to adorn myself with body jewelry, dress in a provocative way, or be sexual in any way with repairmen in the house. He of course wanted me to push the limits and be somewhat on display while they were in the house. He also wanted to know the intimate details of my Saturday night dinner with my friends: had I been horny (he loves that term as if arousal is a switch), was I lubricated during dinner, did I want to take one of my friends home with me etc…I answered the best I could and also told him that I had a date the upcoming weekend with a doctor from the Medical Center. As soon as I told hi, I wondered if it was a mistake given the flood of questions that announcement might generate.

On Tuesday, when I got home from work, the package I ordered at Master’s direction had arrived. In it were a few items that I was not comfortable purchasing in a store, if I could even find a store from which to buy them. There was a package of three graduated size anal plugs, leather cuffs for both ankles and wrists, an enema kit and a small leather collar. I put them to the side as actually I was not interested at the moment. I also had emails from Master specifically targeting my date on the upcoming weekend. He actually asked me if I intended to have sex with my partner given it was my third date with the same guy. I responded that it was none of his business and I would act as the moment and my feelings dictated.

His next email surprised me by including embedded links of two dresses he thought I might find daring but attractive and asked if I would consider wearing them on the date. I looked at them in amusement and quickly answered “no.” I am more of a Nordstrom’s woman and what he sent was clearly a product of his own male fantasy. He tended to gravitate the slutty side. I would not embarrass myself with what he selected. I was raised to select quality over quantity and invested in good pieces that I could use over and over.

It was then that I sent him a note outlining what needed to change in our exchanges if we were to move forward….he seemed to need a lesson in how to deal with a professional woman who was exploring submission. I specifically told him that his language, and how he referred to me, needed to change. He needed to understand how a woman really responded in a sexual response cycle and get out of the fantasy world, and finally realize I was looking for something based in reality, not his male dreams. I wanted a virtual experience that would assist with sharpening my real world writing. When I hit send, I was unsure of his ability to give me what I needed.

Saturday came and I had to get ready for my date. As I said, it was our third time out and I had previously found him charming, professional, extremely funny and good looking. He had the most captivating eyes and mannerisms. I looked forward to the evening.

As I got up to get ready, I grew upset with myself as I knew the questions Master Alan asked about my actions were still rattling around in my head. Even as I started to get dressed, I took extra care with my selections of dress. I was thinking about how I would be viewed and what impression I would make. Was I actually trying to seduce? Would seduction please or displease Master Alan? I slipped on a thong that he had me purchase the previous week and I could clearly see my labia as I stood in front of the mirror given my recent waxing. I again felt arousal….Master was inside my head. I did not need this at the moment, I was soon thinking about would my date touch me or would I even let him. Would the evening make me grow horny….there, I used the word….as Master Alan said?

My date was wonderful, but spoiler alert; there was no hot sex to end the night. There was a warm and deep kiss and a promise of more nights to come, but nothing more. He went his way and I went mine. As I lay in bed that night, I wondered if my date (his name was Mark) was sexually frustrated and masturbating? I wondered if Master Alan was doing the same thinking that I might be in bed with another? As these thoughts ran through my mind, I started at some point to touch myself. It was only when I felt a jolt of arousal that I snapped out of the moment and stopped. What was wrong with me?

I heard nothing back from Master……for days.

Then I got an email saying he read my story and emails and was working on a reply, but was delayed due to some issue he was having with the IRS. Given he was a CPA, I wished him luck not knowing if it was a personal issue or one between the IRS and a client. He also quizzed me about my date wanting to know the following: Did I come home alone or did I bring my date home? If I came home alone, did I immediately get naked and wear the body jewelry? Have I tried the anal plugs? If I did not have sex with my date, did I masturbate when I got back from the date? Of course, he wanted details— intimate details. Master Alan loves details and seems to take pleasure in having me get as graphic as possible. I think it turns him on as he becomes a virtual voyeur. However, what does that make me, a virtual exhibitionist?

Instead of answering his questions, I just wished him well with the IRS, and told him the rest were none of his business. I knew that would frustrate him. I then reminded him that I needed a response to the previous note I sent outlining the conditions to be met if we were moving forward.

I received silence. I was ok with that. If he wanted to be a virtual Master, he would have to meet my conditions or I was not going to waste my time.

As a new week started, I was pleasantly surprised by a note from a fellow writer and friend Betsy Leohtar. Betsy was my fantasy virtual pet and a character in many of my stories. She was also a wonderful writer of erotic fiction and I think she knew that there was some reality behind what I recently published. She liked it, which pleased me greatly. Betsy’s welcomed intrusion took my mind off of Master Alan. Hearing from her was always exciting as she had an effect on me both mentally and physically as no other. She promised to send me the draft of a new story that she had written where the main character was Heather.

That evening, while sipping a glass of wine and wrapped in a light robe, I received and opened Betsy’s latest story. It was a fairly quick ready and dealt with control, hypnotism and a Mistress. Like always, I was able to picture Betsy’s words and actions visually in my mind; she was an exceptional storyteller and quickly drew me into the words on the page. The current story held me in suspense. It was only when I finished the story that I realized my robe had fallen open and one of my hands was slowly caressing the bare lips of my sex. My mind was shocked at how unaware I was concerning the movement of my hands and fingers. Was my reaction triggered by the excitement of hearing from Betsy, or was it a residual from Master Alan where he wanted me nude and edging all the time? Seriously, I did not know.

Now I faced one of life’s little dilemmas, should I stop the unintended pleasure, or should I continue for at least a little while longer? I looked at the clock and smiled. There was time to continue for a little longer.

I reclined, checked the blinds to insure my privacy, finished my wine and shutting my eyes, let my mind and fingers wander. My body was quickly electric. As I touched, I could feel my nipples harden and it was not caused by the air conditioned air. I tweaked my nipples enjoying the sensations as my body grew even wetter. I imagined Betsy’s lips between my thighs and my finger quickly became her tongue. I heard a soft moan. My mind was in high gear and the thought ‘Betsy, what you do to me,’ was not far from my lips.

Then, I touched my clit and Master Alan invaded my thoughts. I did not want him there, but he just showed up uninvited. The words from his emails telling me to touch and circle my clit and imagine his lips there flooded my mind. I grew wetter. I ached and felt somehow he was aware, he was watching, and he knew what was happening. I know the thought was irrational, but at that moment it was real to me.

I was ready to cum. I was going to explode. Then I stopped, just like that….I stopped.

My brain interfered with my pleasure. It rationalized if my orgasm on that Sunday was so good after being put in denial by Master Alan for days, why not repeat the process. Sacrifice now for greater pleasure later?

Holy shit, what is happening to me? I never lay around fingering myself fantasizing about folks I have only met by my writings. Now not only was I doing that, but was repeating actions guided by old emails and instructions from a man I was unsure of. How is he still in my head?

I went to bed and slept naked. I saw the anal plugs still in their wrapping by the nightstand and had to resist trying one for the first time. How bad could it be? I resisted. I was over Alan…..right? Still, I wondered how it would feel.

I woke on Thursday knowing I had to go into the office. What a lousy day. It was still dark outside yet I could hear the rain hitting the windows. I lay there for a minute remembering last night and my touching episode. I wondered if I was still wet and allowed my fingers to drift between my thighs.

I was.

I was slick.

I immediately regretted touching as thoughts of Alan rushed into my head. He had told me that I would become a ‘horny little slut’ under his control and here I was acting like something I argued I would not become.

I tried to divert my thoughts to something else and checked my daily schedule. I looked at the weekend knowing I had another date with Mark for dinner at Husk in the historic district. I wondered how he got a table at a prime reservation time. I had never eaten there, but heard wonderful things. However, my thoughts came back to my body and edging. Why had Alan started this with me?

What if I edged before work and at night up until my Saturday night date? How would I feel with Mark? Is this what Master Alan wanted? At this point, a little after 6am, none of my thoughts were coherent or rational. I wished that I had pool time today so I could just work out my frustrations. I felt my nipples harden and blamed it on the air conditioning, but I could not use the same excuse for the growing wetness between my legs. I was determined not to be a prisoner to my body. I was professional and much stronger than the way I was feeling.

Stronger….I was not so sure of that as I made my way to the bathroom for my morning shower. I turned on the water to my large walk-in shower and spray bars and stood in front of the mirror as I waited for the water to warm. Why had I ever let Master Alan talk me into getting a Brazilian Wax? I was so much more aware of my labia and looks now. God, my nipples really were so hard. I touched them for a moment enjoying the direct connection between their tips and my clit. If men only knew how nipple play could turn a woman on…..or at least turn me on.

The water was warm as I stepped into the shower and as I stood there adjusting the temperature, the pulsing water jets from the spray bars shocked me as they hit just right simultaneously striking my pelvis/clit and the very tips of my nipples. God, it felt so good, but I was too sensitive and quickly turned sideways to the spray. I wondered why I had not noticed that effect before and wrote it off to posture as I bent forward to adjust the temperature.

I took my time to luxuriate in the spray before I washed my body. When I soaped my breasts, I played with the nipples and on a whim, pinched them tightly. It was electric. My clit throbbed. I knew I was aroused. I could feel it and I had to go to work. I fought with myself over stopping or just turning into the spray. I could just let pulsing water take me over the edge, but I was on the edge and isn’t that where I wanted to be for the next day or so.

Opening my lingerie drawer, I selected one of the thongs that Alan had me buy. Before his request, I never wore these things. Now, waxed, they seemed to look good on me. Finding the right bra and a business dress, I was quickly dressed, hair blown out, makeup applied and searching for something to eat before heading out the door. I checked myself in the mirror as I left and everything was in place. I was still aroused, but believed work would quell the feelings I had.

I was wrong, the thong felt invisible and I had the sensation of being naked under my dress. Of course I wasn’t and my rational mind knew that fact, but I still felt that way and that felt somehow wrong. It was as if I had a secret and no one else would know.

While getting coffee, I received a IM from Mark. This was a surgery day for him and he just wanted to say hi, have a great day and he was looking forward to Saturday night. He brought a smile to my face. I was glad he did not know how I was feeling at the moment.

Luckily, my day was full and I was soon immersed in pending litigation and research. When I got up for coffee mid-morning and walked down the hall, I again realized just how wet I remained. I did a quick calculation in my head and determined I was close to ovulation in my monthly cycle and that would account for some of the heavy lubrication. My heightened feeling of arousal could also be pinned on hormones, or so I rationalized. Maybe Master Alan was not as deep inside my head as I originally thought.

Over lunch, I made a Saturday afternoon appointment for a manicure and pedicure. I would do a swim workout in the late morning and then head to my spa for the treatment. I wondered what color Mark would like, but quickly corrected myself; it was all about what color I would like.

To Be Continued