The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I knew something was wrong when I found myself making pancakes.

I had woken up craving them. The craving did not dissipate as I got out of bed, put on clothes, brushed my teeth and otherwise got ready. Quite the opposite, it had grown; thoughts of pancakes filled my head until it felt like all other thoughts were just hangers-on, desperately clinging onto the humpback whale that was pancakes, hoping not to be shaken off. This was the reason why I was currently ladling batter into a hot pan, flipping the result after a few minutes, and stacking it all onto a plate.

Robert, my boyfriend, stumbled into the kitchen, not quite as much of a morning person as me. He had been scratching his beard absentmindedly, but stopped abruptly when he entered the kitchen.

He gave me a confused look, then made a show of pulling up the calendar on his phone and checking something. “Phew, yeah. My birthday is next month. I didn’t misremember.”

“I know,” I said, rolling my eyes at his ‘humor’. “I just felt like pancakes.”

He placed his hand on his chest in a show of mock-surprise. “Jacqueline,” he said. “You hate pancakes.“

This was, of course, true. I have a general aversion to sweet breakfast food, and there is something to fluffiness of a pancake that raises it to another level for me. Robert loved them, so I know how to make them, and apparently I’m pretty good at it. In fact, he’d said so yesterday. That wasn’t why I’d made them though. I’d just craved pancakes.

“I know,” I said. “I...” I sighed. “I can’t explain it either.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asked.

“Robert!” I said.

He made a calming gesture with his hands. “I’m joking,” he said before sitting down at the table. “Not complaining either. Just confused.”

I sat down across from him and we began our breakfast. I enjoyed the taste of my pancakes, but the experience was somewhat tainted by the extreme confusion I felt at that.

“Thank you for these,” Robert said. “Any other changes in taste you feel coming up?” he added. The corner of his mouth was curling up again.

I smiled back at him. “Not particularly, no,” I said. “Why? Were you hoping for something?”

“I mean I certainly wouldn’t complain if you woke up and suddenly enjoyed wearing that one dress,” he said. He smiled as he swallowed the last of his pancake. He reached for another one, and pretended to be looking at the plate, but I knew he was looking at me from the corner of his eye, watching for my reaction.

I rolled my eyes. Any further reaction would probably just encourage him. The eye-roll alone would probably do that, too. But I just couldn’t help myself. “You wish,” I said.

I bought the dress in question back in college, more or less on a dare, but never dared to wear it in public. I just didn’t have the body confidence for it. Robert had found it in the closet a couple of days ago, and I’d put it on for him. He’d spared no words telling me how hot I looked in it. I’d believed him, but I just couldn’t see it that way myself. Robert hadn’t pushed me to wear it more. He’d said I looked hot in it, but that he wanted me to be comfortable, and I knew he’d meant it. He was a goof, not a dick.

He did not break his grin. “Indeed,” he said. “I wish. That’s what I was saying.”

I gave him a small, playful, but probably still painful kick under the table.

He flinched, but within seconds was smiling at me triumphantly. Unbelievable. He then glanced past me at the clock that hung on our wall. His expression turned to one of worry, and he started eating noticeably faster. “Scratch that,” he said. “My wish is not to be late for work, and I don’t think the universe is going to grant it.” He finished the last of his food and stood up from the table.

I looked at the clock myself. It was indeed later than I’d expected—making pancakes takes longer than just putting cornflakes in a bowl. However, since my job started later than Robert’s, there was no reason for me to hurry yet. So, I stayed at the table. For some reason, I imagined myself in that dress as I ate the last of my pancakes.

Robert came out of the bedroom, now dressed in his work clothes. He grabbed his keys and came over to me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, honey,” he said. “Have fun working at NASA.”

I looked into his face, which confirmed what I already suspected. “I work for the European Space Agency, honey,” I said. He was clearly in a hurry. How did he have time for this?

“Does it matter?” he asked. He gave me a mischievous look. “Just promise me you’ll tell me when the aliens contact us, ok?” He stood up and went to the door before I could reply.

“...as a mechanic,” I said.

He had already gone most of the way through the door, but stuck his head back in. “Ok, honey,” he said. “I understand you have to maintain appearances. It’s great to see how much you’ve got that cover story down. Didn’t even hesitate this time.”

I blew him a raspberry.

He grinned at me, but then his face relaxed. “Bye, honey,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said.

He closed the door behind himself.

It was Robert’s turn to cook this evening. I hadn’t figured out what he was making, but a strong smell of rosemary was already filling the house. It was even beginning to get into the bedroom, seeping around the edge of the door. I inhaled deeply. The scent briefly distracted me from my nervousness.

I looked back in the mirror.

The dress was shiny, black, and formfitting, with deep cleavage and a basically non-existent back. The skirt was long, reaching the ground, but was cut into multiple parts, so that you could see my entire leg when I walked. It really showed off my body. My eyes instinctively went to the parts of it I didn’t like: my cheekbones were too wide; my breasts were too small, and not even the same size, and I could never get my belly to be flat. For some reason, I hadn’t been able to get the dress out of my head all day, and this was always the image I’d seen in my mind.

Now, however, I’d found my view shifting. Things I usually dismissed caught my attention. For example, my hair was a lovely shade of chestnut brown. It was still a bit crumpled up from having spent the day in my work ponytail, but still framed my face nicely. It also paired well with my brown eyes. Robert occasionally mentioned how much he liked them. I’d always laugh it off. 80% of the human race has brown eyes. It’s definitionally the most boring color. Now, I found myself seeing them differently. Maybe he hadn’t been goofing around when he’d told me they reminded him of “a forest at golden hour.”

In fact, I noticed in general that I was... cute. I somehow managed to look past the things that usually bothered me. They either didn’t matter—It struck me that you couldn’t even tell about my breasts in this dress. I just saw it cause I knew.—or actually aided the effect, like my cheekbones. Was this how Robert saw me? He’d always said I was cute, and I’d appreciated it, but I’d never really managed to believe him.

I smiled at my reflection, and turned to the door.

Robert didn’t see me as I stepped out of the bedroom. Him cooking meant he stood facing the stove, with his back to me. I hadn’t considered this, so I didn’t know what to do. I stood around fidgeting for a while, hoping he might turn around. He didn’t. So, eventually I straightened myself up and called out to him: “Honey?”

“Yes, hone—” he started replying, but his mouth got stuck in a gape when he saw me.

I blushed and looked down instinctively, but somehow still found the energy to do a little twirl, presenting myself to him from all sides. However, when I finished my turn and looked at him again, he didn’t look elated or happy, as I had expected. He looked worried.

“Honey, is everything ok?” he asked.

I was startled for a moment. “Yes, of course,” I said.

“But you’re wearing that dress,” he said.

I blinked. “Yes?” I said, confused about the turn of this conversation.

He nervously started rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just... I thought you didn’t like wearing that dress,” he said. “You only wear it for special occasions, for me. Did I do something to make you think you had to? I know I joked about wanting you to this morning, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you if you don’t. I just—“

I walked over and laid a finger on his mouth, shutting him up. “I wanted to wear it,” I said.

“But I thought you didn’t like it?” he asked.

“I changed my mind,” I said, smiling.

He still looked unsure. In fact, he looked like he was about to ask me a whole slew of questions. I decided to preempt him.

“So, do you like it?” I asked.

“Huh?” he said, his train of thought obviously derailed. “Do I like what?”

I gave him a big smile. “How hot your girlfriend is, of course.” I said. To emphasise my point, I twirled around again, and on returning, folded my hands behind my back and stuck out my chest a little.

This time, when I turned back around, he looked more like I’d been expecting. His entire face had somewhat of a dreamy expression. His cheeks had reddened a bit, and he’d dropped his arms. The ladle he’d been holding hung loose in his hand, about to fall down. He could barely keep eye contact with me. He tried, but his eyes kept drifting down, clearly drawn to my chest, or waist, or legs, before he pulled them back up. “Yeah,” he said, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a content smile. “I do.”

“Marvellous,” I said as I pulled him in for a kiss. It turned into a long one. He laid a hand on my back and pulled me tighter. I brought up one leg and curled it around him. He reciprocated by laying his free hand on my bare tight and caressing it.

I would have gladly continued doing this for quite a while, and it felt like Robert would have as well. However, at that moment the burned smell coming from the stove finally reached our noses.

In the end, the food was only slightly burned, and I decided not to tease him for it, as I definitely bore my share of the responsibility, having distracted him.

In fact, it was quite clear that I was still distracting him from the food. He kept glancing over at me, usually not at my eye line. It gave me a noticeable confidence boost. Whatever had compelled me to put on the dress tonight, it had clearly been a good idea.

“Are you actually happy about me ogling you?” Robert asked with a glint in his eyes. I must have been smiling.

“You are my long-term boyfriend,” I said, “So, yes. You’re the one person I want doing that.”

He looked me over again; this time distinctly too long to count as glancing. “What excellent news,” he said in the dreamiest voice he could muster.

I blushed.

“I have to say,” he said. “Between the pancakes for breakfast and the show for dinner, you are quickly becoming the perfect girlfriend.”

“Meaning I was not before?” I asked.

Robert did not skip a beat. “Nah, I was just with you for your money.”

I leaned over the table, bringing my face closer to his. “Fitting,” I said. “I was just dating you because of your cute ass.”

“Sounds like a successful business exchange then,” Robert said. He leaned in as well and kissed me.

“No but really, thank you,” he said, after the kiss was over. “Today was really nice, even if I don’t know what the occasion was, or is.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “And there’s no occasion. I just felt like doing those things, for myself. And even if I didn’t, I don’t really need a reason to spoil you occasionally, right?”

“Of course not,” Robert said. “I’m not complaining. I’m just—”

“What’s something else you’d like me to do?” I asked. The words had left my mouth before the thought had finished processing in my brain. It had just struck me and I’d blurted it out. However, now that I’d said it, I realized I did want to know.

“Honey, no,” Robert said. He pressed his hands together in a praying motion. “Please don’t put such a burden on me.”

My mood fell. “What’s wrong?” I asked. For some reason, I felt a bit of panic creep up on me. “Was it wrong to ask?”

“Dear god, no,” he said. He reached over and cupped my hand in his, obviously concerned about my vehement reaction. “You’ve just done so much today already. Please wait for me to pay you back for it before you do more. All I’ve done so far is burn dinner.”

My spirits lifted a bit. “Honey, there’s no debts in a relationship,” I said. “You don’t have to repay me if I do something nice for you.”

He looked a bit unsure. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But still, I don’t want the relationship to turn one-sided. It would just feel like I’m taking advantage of you somehow.”

“Ok...” I said. It made sense, and I felt like I should agree with it, but for some reason, I didn’t. It chafed at me somehow.

Robert was looking at me dreamily. “How did I ever get so lucky as to be with you?”

“I’m lucky to be with you!” I protested. I wasn’t really prepared for the compliment and threw it back at him on instinct.

He turned a delightful shade of pink. “Do you really think so?” He poked a bit at the pile of burnt bits he’d sorted onto the rim of his plate.

“I do,” I said. “As would 95% of women in my position. The rest are gay.”

He managed to blush even more somehow, before a slight smirk began to show on his face. “Unlucky wretches,” he muttered.

“Dare I ask?” I said, already mentally steeling myself for the ‘joke’.

“They have to pine after you, forever knowing they cannot have you.”

I rolled my eyes, but I did kiss him after he’d stopped laughing. The weird sense of panic from before was forgotten.

I woke up early again the next day. I gently wiggled out of Robert’s embrace and snuck out. After quickly finishing my morning routine, I went into the kitchen. I put the leftovers from yesterday into Tupperware, planning on taking them to work for lunch. Robert hadn’t seemed very enthusiastic about the prospect of eating it, but I kinda felt like having some more. I craved pancakes again, so I began making batter.

Robert came out of the bedroom not long after, earlier than I would have expected. He also wore his work suit already.

“Morning!” he said, sounding chipper, though he gave me a confused look when he saw me making pancakes again. His eyes quickly fell on the Tupperware though. “Great, thanks,” he said, before putting them in his bag.

“Hey, my lunch!” I said.

“Oh sorry,” he said. “I figured I’d take it. I burnt it after all. You usually eat at your work cafeteria. Did you want it?”

I suddenly recalled the bitter aftertaste the burnt bits had had. “No thanks. You want some pancakes?”

“No,” he said.

I suddenly felt an intense feeling of emptiness, like I was starving, or dying of thirst. I needed something. “Do you want me to make something else?” I asked. Robert had been about to say something, but I interrupted him.

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Honey, there’s no time. I have to leave. Today’s the big presentation, remember?”

“Well what about tonight?” I asked. “What do you want for dinner.” I was starting to get frantic, closing in on him.

He took a step backwards. He looked a bit uncomfortable. “Just make something you want.”

“Just tell me!” I said.

He grabbed my shoulders. “Honey, you’re acting weird. You’ve done quite enough for me already. I have to go now.” He kissed my forehead and went to the door.

“Robert!” I yelled.

He’d already had his hand on the door nob, but turned around.

“You have to tell me what you want!”

There was pain written on his face. “We’ll talk about this tonight, ok? Love you.” He went out and closed the door behind himself.

I was left alone in the apartment. It was only then that I noticed the smell of the last pancake burning.

I called in sick for the day. It wasn’t even a lie. I felt sick. I was confused and hurt from what had happened with Robert. What had he not wanted to tell me? And why had it been so important to know? I had just felt this need to know, as if it was something I needed to survive, like air or water.

I paced the apartment, restless. I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. It felt tainted. Besides, my stomach felt like it had been tied into a knot.

I tried to distract myself by watching videos on my phone, but couldn’t even focus on something that basic. My thoughts kept spiraling to that one question: What did Robert want?

I didn’t know why. It didn’t seem like me not knowing had caused what had happened. In fact, quite the opposite. I just for some reason had no motivation to do anything but try to find out. I kept pacing the apartment, but that just made the feeling worse. I forced myself to stop, but then I had nothing to distract me. Finally, I broke down and sent Robert a message. I stared at the app for several minutes, waiting for a response, until I realized what I was doing. I put my phone down.

Thinking I should at least try to get some remote work done, I sat down in front of my laptop and booted it up. I was immediately struck by an overwhelming feeling of lethargy. The mere thought of doing work was exhausting. It struck me that maybe there was something wrong with me. I picked up my phone to call a friend, but was again struck by that feeling of lethargy. Maybe it’s better to talk to Robert first, I thought. I’d feel silly if it all resolves itself with one conversation. I put down the phone, happy to have resolved this issue, but then immediately picked it back up again to check my messages. Nothing. It hadn’t even been marked as read yet. I groaned, put the phone down, and laid my head on my arms.

When I looked back up, I noticed something: Robert’s laptop lay on the other side of the table. An idea formed in my head. I tried to resist, but the thought just grew and grew until I finally just grabbed the laptop and set it in front of me. Robert wasn’t a particularly tech-savvy person. His password was easy to guess.

I went poking through his files first. I had no idea what I was looking for and it very much felt like I was doing something wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself. None of his folders yielded anything interesting, so I opened his browser and checked the history, again without knowing why. I just had a compulsion to do so. At first, it seemed equally banal—social media, streaming, mundane google searches. After a while though, I struck on a set of sites that seemed more interesting. Sites I didn’t recognize, which he seemed to visit mostly late at night. He also seemed to have some of them bookmarked. I clicked on one of the links.

They were fetish sites. Image after image of women in erotic maid costumes, or harem outfits, or faux slave garb. Some wore nothing but a collar with a leash. All were in submissive poses: kneeling, bowing, serving men tea, presenting them their bodies.

I was shocked. Robert had never shown an interest in things like this to me. He’d never mentioned it, and he’d always done his best to make sure our relationship was on equal footing. He did his share of the chores and never seemed jealous or resentful of the fact that I earned more than him.

I opened another site. This one had captions with the image, supposed messages from the women to the reader. They called him “sir”, “master”, or similar names. They spoke of submission as “true place of a woman”, and generally seemed to rejoice in their position.

Was this what Robert wanted? I kept scrolling.

To my surprise I began to be turned on. I wasn’t attracted to women, but I imagined how these images must look to Robert. As I kept looking at the images, I found myself imagining what it would be like to be in these women’s places. I imagined wearing their clothes, imagined kneeling in front of Robert. I couldn’t remember having an inclination to do anything remotely similar, but suddenly the thought seemed appealing.

The next caption I read out loud. I wasn’t happy with my delivery, but it still caused a pleasant tingle to spread through my body. I tried again, trying to sound more role-appropriate. Another tingle. I moved to another caption, and another. I searched around on the site for a while, looking for images of women that looked like me. At some point I had slipped my left hand in my pants. I continued reading and speaking.

I found a caption that I liked and repeated it over and over again as I rubbed myself. I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of my voice. That’s what turned me on the most: hearing myself speak in that submissive tone. I didn’t need the image. Instead I imagined Robert in front of me, imagined myself saying these things to him.

An idea struck me. I turned off Robert’s laptop and ran over to my own. I opened up my audio recording program and read out the caption. I repeated it a few times until I had a take I was happy with, before putting on my headphones and setting it on a loop.

“Master,” I heard my own voice saying. Instantly, I was horny again. I slipped my hand back into my pants.

“Master,” I heard again as the recording came around for another loop. An image of Robert popped into my head. I buckled against my hand.

I continued stimulating myself as the recording went around and around. The image of Robert in my head became clearer and clearer.

“Master,” I heard again.

I moaned.

“Master.”

“Yeees,” I groaned.

I was close now. There was just something missing. I didn’t know what. I just couldn’t quite get there. On impulse, I pushed back the chair and dropped to my knees. It felt better that way.

The moment I said “master” again, I came. Instantly and violently. So hard I fell on my side, popping the cable of my headphones out of the audio jack.

I lay there for a while as the aftershocks rolled over me. Then I slowly pushed myself up. I could still hear the recording, now coming from my laptop’s speakers. It immediately turned me on again, but I turned it off. It was almost noon, and I had preparations to make.

Robert came home in the evening. He was clearly exhausted from work and on autopilot, not aware of his surroundings. He put down his suitcase, took off his shoes and loosened his tie, before stepping into the apartment proper. He froze in his tracks.

I had cleaned everything to gleaming perfection. The lights were dimmed and a candle was burning on the dinner table.

Robert looked around wearily, taking it all in. He reached up and touched the top of one of the cupboards. When he brought his hand back down, it was perfectly clean. Not a single trace of dust. He stared at it for a moment, seemingly in disbelief.

I stepped out of the kitchen.

He gasped.

I wore nothing but a white nightgown through which my black underwear was clearly visible. A long leash hung from a collar around my neck, almost reaching the ground.

“Welcome home, master,” I said.

He had been about to say something, but now instead just sucked in a deep breath. His cheeks had become flush with arousal, and I could tell from the bulge in his pants that he was erect.

“Won’t you come and sit down?” I asked as I gestured at the kitchen table.

He just stood there for a moment as his eyes roamed over my body. It looked as if some internal struggle was going on. After a while, it seemed to have resolved, as he stepped forward and sat down, still staring at me.

I went into the kitchen and came out carrying his plate. I had prepared a large steak, which I set it before him before going to stand behind him. I laid my hands on his shoulders.

He tensed up at first, but slowly relaxed as I began to massage him. He cut off a piece of meat and ate it. A small moan escaped his lips. “Thank you,” he said.

“Of course, master,” I said.

He moaned again, but I could also feel his shoulders tensing up a bit again. He ate another piece, but didn’t react nearly as joyously this time. Instead, he just chewed on it for a while.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” he asked, finally.

“Of course not, master,” I replied. “It would be improper for a slave to eat with her master, would it not?”

He got very warm, but didn’t say anything for a long time, just staring into the distance.

“Master?” I asked.

He put down his fork and knife. “No,” he said. “No, this is wrong.” He pushed back his chair and stood up.

I hastily let go of his shoulders. “Master?” I asked. “What’s wrong? Am I not pleasing to you?”

He turned around, seemingly to say something, but stopped when he saw me. I had folded my hands behind my back, which pushed out my breasts and gave him an unobstructed view of my body. He hungrily drank in the sight.

I perked up. “Are you perhaps not hungry, master? Would you like me to service you in some other way?”

He had been somewhat erect before, but got significantly more so as I spoke. Still, he didn’t say anything, seemingly unable to.

“Would you, master?” I asked again. I took a step forward and gently laid a hand on the bulge in his pants.

He shuddered, took a stumbling step backwards and fell back into his chair. By now he was beet red.

I kneeled before him and continued caressing his bulge. I could hear his breathing quicken. Suddenly, I felt his hand on my head. He only caressed my hair, but the weight of his arm still pushed my head forward. I gave in to the push and laid my head on his thigh. I scooted forward a bit more and kissed his bulge. A shudder went through his body. I took away my hand and continued caressing him with my mouth. The fabric of his pants felt rough on my tongue, but I was soon rewarded when Robert moaned long and hard. A tingle went through me. I wanted more.

I unfastened his belt. Robert wordlessly scooted up a bit and pulled down his pants. His penis was even closer now. An intense feeling of joy overcame me. I kissed it a few times through his underwear, then pulled that down too. Finally, I had unrestricted access to the object of my desire. I wrapped my hand around it. Gently, as if it were a relic. The feeling of joy became almost ecstatic. How wonderful, I thought. To be allowed to do this. A small tear rolled down my right cheek.

I looked up at Robert. “Thank you, master,” I said.

I could feel his erection stiffen in my hand, but his face contorted in pain. All of a sudden, he pulled up his pants and stood up. He began pacing the room. “No,” he muttered to himself. “No, I don’t want this.”

Instantly, I forgot why I had been acting the way I had. I couldn’t even recall the feeling of wanting it. I remembered what I’d done that day, but it all felt absurd now, as if it wasn’t a memory of my own actions but of some incoherent movie I’d watched. The piece of my brain that had wanted this was just gone, knocked away. I collapsed onto my haunches, overwhelmed.

Robert ran over to me immediately. “Honey?” he asked. “Is everything ok?” He took my head in his hands and wiped away the tear I had shed earlier.

Instantly, I felt better. I wrapped my arms around him.

He stiffened up at first, but eventually reciprocated the hug. “Honey?” he asked. “Is it you again?”

I let go of him. “I think so,” I said. Suddenly I felt how cold I was in this outfit. “Yes, definitely,” I said as I ran to the couch to wrap myself in a blanket.

Robert gingerly sat down next to me. “What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Whenever I notice you want something, I suddenly want it too.”

“Then I won’t say what I want anymore,” Robert said.

“No!” I said, forcefully. “That’s what got us into this mess. If you don’t tell me, I start guessing, making things up. I nearly went crazy this morning—I suppose I did actually.” I looked at Robert. Pain was written into his face. “Please,” I pleaded. “You have to tell me what you want. What you really want.”

I entered the apartment to find it smelling wonderfully of home-cooked food. I hastened to take off my jacket and work shoes, and excitedly stepped into the living room.

The table had been set for dinner. The light in the living room had been dimmed slightly, which drew more attention to the candles burning on the table. The effect was somewhat broken by the bright light still shining from the kitchen.

Robert stuck his head out of the door. He was wearing an apron. “Welcome home, honey,” he said. “Did you have a fun day building rockets?”

I shot him a look. “You know I work in the rover department,” I said.

He grinned in a way that indicated he did, but enjoyed getting a rise out of me.

I rolled my eyes, but could not stay annoyed for very long. “That smells good,” I said.

His grin turned into a beaming smile. “Thanks,” he said. “Dinner is basically ready. I only have to taste for seasoning. You can sit down if you want. I’ll be over in a minute.” He disappeared back into the kitchen before I could reply.

I sat down at the table, grateful for the opportunity after a day of walking around the workplace and a ride on the crowded subway. I took the pin out of my hair and shook it free. This, sadly, brought attention to how tight my shoulder were. I brought up a hand and started rubbing them.

Robert set down a pot of delicious looking stew on the table. He took off his oven mittens and placed his now freed hands on my shoulders, quickly massaging the bulk of the tension from them with a few skilled motions. I groaned from relief and let my head hang forward to give him better access. He continued, more gently now.

“Thank you,” I said, after a while. “For all of this. The food looks really good.”

He laughed. “I know, right?” he said. “It smells good; it looks good. Wait till you get it in your mouth. Turns out it actually tastes nice as well. Who would have thought?”

It was dumb, but I couldn’t help but laugh along. His merriness was infectious.

“Thank you,” I said again, once we’d finished.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

I brought a hand up to my shoulder and laid it on his, to stop him from continuing. I turned my head back slightly and asked: “Should I shower first?”

“Only if you want,” he said, before gently placing a kiss on the top of my head. “You’re lovely as you are.”

I nodded. “Then after,” I said. “Shall we eat?”

I stepped out of the bathroom, grateful to be out of my work clothes. I had dried my hair, but still held a towel wrapped around myself. Barefoot, I tiptoed over to the bedroom, trying to be silent, so as to increase the surprise. Finally, I opened the bedroom door and entered.

Robert sat in bed, propped up on a pillow with his lower half covered by a blanket. He had been reading, but put the book down as soon as he saw me enter.

I waited for a moment, then dropped the towel as dramatically as I could, revealing the lace teddy I wore underneath. It was form-fitting, augmenting and complementing my curves very nicely. The burgundy red color also went very nicely with my chestnut hair. The package had actually arrived some days ago, but I felt like tonight was a good moment to reveal it.

I had expected some sort of gasp or other expression of surprise, but Robert remained remarkably still. However, the wide grin spreading on his face did show that the lingerie was having its intended effect.

I gave a short bow and twirled around once. “Do I look pleasing?” I asked, smiling.

“Well, why don’t you check for yourself?” he asked, before flipping the covers aside. This revealed two things: first, he was naked, and second, he was very hard.

I lost my composure a little. “You were expecting me,” I said, astonished.

He gave me a sheepish look. “I did,” he said, “but I still wanted the untainted experience.”

“How?” I asked. “Did you find the package?”

The corners of his mouth started to curl back up again. “I have my ways,” he said.

I took a few steps towards the bed and tried to put on what I hoped was a ‘sexy strict’ look. “I hid it very well,” I said, hoping to sound severe.

Robert dropped back into his pillow a little, but the grin continuing to spread on his face revealed he’d caught onto the game. “I have my ways,” he repeated.

I now stood next to the bed, looming over him, as much as that was possible with the size difference between us. “You will tell me,” I said.

Robert now lay flat on his back. “Never,” he said.

I lowered my torso so I hung over him, placing my hands on the bed at either side of him. “Never?” I asked.

“Never,” Robert said. He was obviously trying to play defiant, but was grinning far too much for that. I could still tell what he was going for though.

“Very well then,” I said as I brought my legs up on the bed, placing my knees at either side of him as well. “I shall have to bribe you.” I lowered my head and kissed him, long and sensually. We were both slightly out of breath by the time I broke off.

“Very well,” he said. “You accidentally ordered with my account. I got the confirmation email.”

I dropped the act and sat down on his hip. “You are very easy to bribe,” I said.

“I think you may be underestimating the value of your bribes,” he said.

“That may very well be true,” I said as I pulled my arms around his neck, dropping down so that I lay on top of him. I kissed him, and pressed myself against his torso. He shuddered, and would have gasped if I had not had my lips on his. I could feel his penis twitch against my butt.

I released the kiss and sat up again. “Now look what I’ve done,” I said, as I scooted back so that his penis was now in front of me. I gingerly stroked it a few times, causing him to shudder a little again.

“I’d better fix this,” I said, and began to lower my head.

Robert placed a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “Honey, wait,” he said. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

I gave him a loving look. “You know how much I love to do this, master.”

He nodded and let go of my shoulder, before leaning back into his pillow.

I went down on him.