The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I felt terrible, trying to seduce Doctor Bradford. I felt awful attempting to force my son’s teacher to make love to me for an ulterior motive, so that he wouldn’t flunk Walt out of college.

I wasn’t myself. This wasn’t me, sashaying across the parquet floor to where Doctor Bradford sat behind his desk, aware that the way I was swaying towards him was irresistible, my pussy already moist, the hot slick between my legs already sending out the wrong signals.

I admired Walt’s teacher. I looked up to him. He was a good man. In fact, a noble man, an eminent professor and role model for his students. I respected the fact that when he looked me up and down he saw more than just ‘a nice rack’ or ‘a bootylicious butt’, he saw only a mother worried sick about her son.

I wasn’t even sure what I was doing, or why I was doing it, standing next to him where he was sitting at his desk, leaning closer, leaning over him to have a closer look at Walt’s flunked exam papers spread out on his desk, my full, curvaceous breast yearning to rub against his arm.

I’d felt the click in my brain again. The warm light in my head was tingling outwards through my eyes, bathing Professor Bradford’s office in its lustrous glow. The hot clicks were turning to delicious shivers rippling up my spine from my quaking pussy towards where my heart was beating. The mellow, float-y sensation was already overwhelming my whole body… but that was no excuse for doing what I was doing…

I murmured:

“Can I see? Can I see Walt’s papers…?”

He grunted:

“Yes. Certainly. If you want.”

I’d never seduced a man in my whole life. Taking a stalker’s cock up my butt, sucking a stranger’s monster penis at the glory-hole wasn’t seducing. My ex husband never needed seducing. Walt’s sleazy father jumped me in the kitchen, in the utility room, in the back seat of his Mustang, whenever he felt like it. Nineteen years, and I’d never once behaved like this.

I looked down at shining rosewood and empty paper. Sheet after sheet. Walt’s exam papers had no writing on them at all, no answers to the exam questions, just the occasional mocking doodle. I leaned closer, to have a better look at the mess my son was making of his life.

“… Oh…!”

Professor Bradford frowned:

“A complete mess. Unbelievable.”

Hanging down full and free under my T-shirt, my breast grazed his bicep. My sumptuous softness pressed itself against his upper arm. For a middle-aged teacher Doctor Bradford had a nice firm bicep. I rubbed my jelly-soft tit against it.

His body stiffened. He was a good man. He didn’t want this to happen either.

I purred:

“… I don’t know what’s got into Walt…”

It was Doctor Bradford’s decency and honesty that I admired. He wasn’t like other men. His wife died in a car accident just after they were married and he hadn’t had a girlfriend since, let alone remarried. He’d dedicated himself to his students’ well-being ever since with a passion that was even stronger than married love.

My winged hip rubbed against the side of his powerful body, let him feel the luscious heat pulsing from slashed denim all the way up my slim, toned leg, the pulse growing hotter and more urgent the closer it got to my already melting pussy.

I felt awful. I murmured:

“… Are you sure there’s nothing can be done…?”

He drew himself upright. His packed bicep flinched beneath the red and yellow checks of his flannel shirt. I knew that he liked me as a decent, upstanding Mom. I was aware that Doctor Bradford respected the years of self-denying love I’d dedicated to my son’s upbringing. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what my words were suggesting.

My knee touched his leg, felt it stiffen. I was only wearing my old, round-the-house jeans, but they were skin-tight, the slashes in the packed denim packed with silky heat.

He frowned:

“Yes. Quite sure, Mrs Morel. There’s nothing can be done.” He nodded at the sheets of empty paper littering his desk. “I’m afraid your son’s blown his chances of getting the education he deserves.”

He despised me. He’d already decided I was a slut. He put me down with all the other sleazy women, divorcees and faculty cougars, who’d attempted to drag him down to their level.

My face burned. I was making a fool of myself. I wasn’t the only ‘nice rack’ in town. I wasn’t the only ‘bootylicious butt’ on campus. Dozens of other women, as ‘smoking hot’ as me had attempted to make this good, decent man violate his moral principals without even one of them ever succeeding. All I was doing was making the only man I’d ever really respected decide he’d been wrong about me. I was just another needy MILF.

I draped my arm around his shoulder, felt the muscles in his shoulder stir, wanting to shake me off.

“… I… I can’t believe it’s really happening… my son’s being flunked out of college…?”

His lips pursed:

“Yes. I’m afraid so, Mrs Morel.”

The stinging sensation in my butt was growing sharper and hotter where the biker shoved his cock’s swollen tip, and the gold ring in his foreskin, into my tight ring. Somewhere in the back of my throat I could still taste my stalker’s semen when I sucked his monster cock and its gypsy earring at the glory-hole. I was exactly the sort of woman Doctor Bradford despised most, a dirty slut, an insatiable cougar, a horny MILF prepared to use her body to get what she wanted.

The light grew brighter in my head. The mellow feeling surged through my helpless limbs.

“… You sure there’s nothing can be done…?”

I tousled his hair. His short, grizzled hair felt wonderfully brisk and wiry.

He muttered:

“Please, Mrs Morel. Stop it.”

It was wrong. I felt awful. I didn’t know the meaning of ‘Stop it!’ I was unstoppable. I was hotter than the hottest cougar. I was more insatiable than the dirtiest slut in town. I was a smoking hot animal prowling for her meat. The light in my head melted all resistance. The mellow feeling throbbed in my drenched pussy.

I pouted:

“You think I’m a bad girl!” Girl? I was thirty-seven years old! “You don’t like me?”

My full tits jellied in my T-shirt. My taut, tight nipples pronged white cotton. I rubbed my sumptuous softness against the side of his face. My big luscious breast massaged his cheekbone through yearning cotton.

“You don’t like me any more?”

Any more? He’d never said he liked me in the first place. I was just a distressed mother he was helping out in his kindness and solicitude for his students.

He murmured:

“I never said that, Mrs Morel.”

I breathed my hot tit into his mouth. His head swiveled helplessly. His cheek became his broad, generous mouth, his strong lips closing over my succulent softness, taking my luscious breast deeper and deeper into his mouth, his warm tongue stroking my aching nipple through soaking cotton.

I moaned out loud.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmm…”

I’d never had a man take my tit in his mouth so gently and so rapturously. My stalker bit and raked and devoured. The guy with the gold ring in his foreskin ate me alive, but this was something else altogether.

“… Oh… oh… oh God…”

I hoped Doctor Bradford wasn’t too devout a Christian, that he wouldn’t think I was taking the Lord’s name in vain.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

My breast was too big. He couldn’t get it all in his mouth. Luscious spasms in the back of his throat massaged my pulsing nipple deeper and hotter into his hungry mouth. My toned, curvaceous tits had never felt so good, not even when I was suckling Walt.

My fingers picked at the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoned buttons frantically, distractedly, terrified that he didn’t like my taste, he abhorred my luscious heat, that he’d draw his mouth away, that his lips would turn from their voluptuous massage to mouthing angry judgments.

“… Oh… oh… oh-hhhhhhh…”

The hairs on his chest were softer and more tangle-y than the grizzled spikes on his head. For a man in his mid forties his pecs were well developed. I sieved my fingers through virile chest hair, feeding my heartbeat hot and wet into his hungry mouth.

“… Oh-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

This wasn’t me. I wasn’t doing this. I valued Doctor Bradford’s respect for me more than I’d ever valued anything in my life. His goodwill was worth more to me than even Walt staying in college.

I took a dreadful risk. I was crazy. This was dangerous. I felt certain that the second he stopped sucking— the sucking motion of his powerful jaws was growing more and more urgent— he’d loathe me. Doctor Bradford would thrust me away. He’d never want to see my face again.

I pulled my drenched tit out of his mouth.

He stared amazed at the big wet patch hammering on my white T-shirt.

Before he could think, or know what was happening, I straddled him where he sat in his swivel chair. I plonked down in his lap face to face.

The chair swung wildly.

I offered him the other tit.

He didn’t take it. My lips were plastering his lips with luscious moisture. His mouth was battening on my mouth, our tongues twining and grappling, his strong tongue wrestling ecstatically with my sopping mouth-meat.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

My arms were around his neck, hanging on tight, my legs mounting the arms of his chair, my pussy pulsing in his lap, my sumptuous gash yearning on the heavy throb I could feel stiffening in his pants. He liked me. Walt’s teacher thought I was nice. I was special. I was different. My eyes were filling with lustrous light as we kissed. I rubbed the lovely mellow feeling into the big thing slowly uncoiling in his pants.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…!”

I groaned:

“… I love you…”

I meant it. It wasn’t a lie. The words just came out my mouth like that, but I meant every one of them. Doctor Bradford was decent and noble and generous. He lived on a higher plane than other men. He was the most decent, noble, generous man I’d ever met, the only decent, noble generous male in my whole existence.

“… Look… Mrs Morel…”

We kissed again, long and slow and sweet, our tongues wrestling in slippery delight, my hot gash grinding helpless wetness into the big thing stiffening between his legs.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

He tried to draw his mouth away.

“…”

I didn’t let him speak.

I let go of his neck. I let go deep inside me.

I was slithering down his body, down his manly chest, down his fit belly. I was sliding down between his legs onto my knees on the floor. His gray eyes went wide with shock. I appalled him. The thing we were doing shocked him to his core. He’d refuse me. He was going to thrust me away.

I unzipped his pants.

He let me unzip his pants.

He allowed me to unfasten his belt!

Doctor Bradford gave me permission to draw his long, slim cock, already springy and twitching in my hand, out of his trousers and put it in my mouth!

“… Argh… argh…”

I tasted his human goodness. I savored the goodness of his heart. His decency’s tang drenched my taste buds. I sucked and gobbled on the loving power uncoiling in my mouth.

“… Argh… argh… argh-llllllllllllll…”

My stalker’s cock was a predatory prong punishing my mouth with cold gold and heartless stabs. My ex husband’s sleazy penis thought only of itself. It was no wonder my heart was filling with love and gratitude. Doctor Bradford’s powerful cock was as wonderful as the rest of him.

“… Glurg… gla-aaaaaaarg…”

I feasted on his potent tang. I lavished loving saliva on his throbbing manhood. His penis was strong and powerful and delicious, and it hadn’t known another woman’s mouth, beside his dead wife’s, in all his years of guiding and teaching the young.

“… Mm-mmmmmmm…”

His long slim thing grew heavier in my mouth. Doctor Bradford’s breath-taking cock was stiffening too big and tall for me to get it all in. I clasped his swollen tip in a luscious moue. My plump lips massaged loving moisture into his throbbing spear-head.

“… Look… Christie…”

He knew my first name. I’d never told him I was Mrs Christie Morel. Divorced. Free. Unentangled. Smoking hot. He’d called me Christie! He’d found out my first name from somewhere!

“… Argh… argh…”

I nipped the packed ridge where his swollen spear-head took off from his long, willowy shaft. I clasped his swollen tip between my teeth and lavished loving spittle on his throbbing piss-slit. Even the place where he urinated—and pumped rapturous semen into his dead wife’s pussy— tasted delicious.

“… Argh… argh… argh-lllllllllllllllllllll…”

He groaned:

“… Look, Christie…”

His fingers were in my hair. His fingertips stroked the lustrous softness of my wavy blonde hair. My silky mane ran between his strong fingers. His fingertips found the delicious places pulsing in the warmth of my scalp. His strong fingers massaged every pore on my head, gently pushed my mouth down deeper and hotter onto his rock-hard cock. I choked on his tall, delicious prong.

“… Glu-uuurg… gla-aaaaaaaaarg…”

I gargled his swollen tip in sweet throat honey. He was only saying ‘… Look, Christie…’, because he loved me, because he was falling in love with me from my hot mouth down to the pounding of my heart.

I stopped breathing. I no longer cared if I could breathe or not. I loved him. I loved him with all my heart. I loved Doctor Bradford as much as I loved my errant son.

“… Argh… argh…”

I choked on his swollen spear-head. His tall shaft slipped and slithered in voluptuous throat honey. I clamped his full length between my teeth, way down deep. My teeth sank in. I clamped his throbbing cock in a sumptuous love-bite and raked slowly up his tall shaft, feasting on the helpless spasms my loving bite was releasing.

“… Argh… argh… argh-lllllllllllllllllllll…”

I drew my mouth away. He was ready. His stiff cock stood tall and glistening and rock-hard, its swollen tip chained to my luscious lips by strings of gag and spittle.

I looked into his eyes.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to speak.

I gazed ‘… pleeeeeeeeeease…’ into the depths of Professor Bradford’s beautiful hazel eyes. I was irresistible.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to answer.

He reached down. He massaged my slippery tits in both hands.

He murmured:

“God, you’re beautiful!”

I felt beautiful. I could feel how toned and voluptuous my breasts were for him, my sumptuous softness delighting his strong grasp, my taut, tight nipples suckling his warm palms.

This time I whispered it out loud:

“… Ple-eeeeeeeeease…”

It wasn’t the light in my head pleading for his big cock, it wasn’t the clicks turning to an ecstatic shimmer up my spine that were begging for his throbbing spear-head, it wasn’t the mellow feeling engulfing my voluptuous limbs that was asking him to give me what I wanted, what I needed most in the all the world, it was me, myself, my whole being, my innermost core that asked him to give me his love.

I rose to my feet. I felt like Venus emerging from the sea. I stood before him.

He unzipped my jeans. He peeled slashed denim down over my toned butt, a celebrant at a sacred ritual unveiling his goddess, his raw shaft glistening between his legs. I’d never realized before that a man could look at a woman so rapturously.

He tugged my jeans down. I trod slashed denim into the floor. I was glad I’d put on a pair of sensible white panties, not the fuck-me thong I wore at the glory-hole or on the back of the motorbike. I valued his good opinion above anything in the world.

He slipped my panties off.

He murmured:

“Fuck, you’re lovely.”

I whispered:

“… I love you so much…”

It was a naff thing to say. I’d only met him yesterday, but it wasn’t the mellow feeling speaking, or the light in my head. I meant it with all my heart.

There was a moment’s acute embarrassment.

Where were we going to fuck? This was his professorial office, the place where Doctor Bradford taught his students.

The parquet floor was beautiful and shiny, but our love was too sacred for him to take me on the floor. His rock-hard cock was too beautiful, glistening with my gag and saliva, for him to shaft me like some bimbo on a hardwood floor.

The armchairs and couches were comfortable looking, but their plump leather upholstery was for students to sit in during tutorials, not for my pulsing pussy to learn the voluptuous lesson it needed most of all.

He blushed. The faint reddening of his weathered, mid-forties tan stopped my heart from beating.

He looked at his desk. I looked at his desk.

I slid my bottom up onto shiny rosewood. Walt’s exam papers crinkled under my toned ass-cheeks. I lay down on my back. Sheets of empty paper and hideous doodles rustled under my shoulder-blades. I spread my legs.

Doctor Bradford reared above me, his huge erection throbbing for my wet cunt, his rock-hard spear-head stunned by my succulent wetness.

My back arched. My curvaceous butt lifted. Sheets of exam paper stuck to my quaking softness. My luscious fuck-hole searched for his big prong.

“… Yes… yes…”

I’d always thought fucking was rough and violent. I’d only ever known brute animal lust. Walt’s father climbing on top of me with whiskey on his breath. The dude in the glory-hole pumping his semen down my throat, not caring if I breathed or not. The stalker’s pounding piston ramming chunky gold into my ass-hole, not caring whether he hurt me or not.

Doctor Bradford’s drumming spear-head grazed my luscious entrance. A single touch and my pussy went into meltdown. My splayed gash rutted on a single skin-deep graze. One throbbing touch of tight piss-slit, slippery with pre-cum, and my cunt went into helpless spasm. My back arched. My tail-bone kicked. My butt lifted off the desk, helplessly skewered on a millimeter of voluptuous ecstasy.

“… Yes… ye-eeeeeeeees…”

He was inside me. Doctor Bradford’s big cock was deep inside me so suddenly and urgently, pulsing so powerfully, I must have blacked out with sheer delight at the moment when he impaled me. He was fathomlessly deep inside me, not gouging and stabbing like Walt’s father gouged and stabbed, not shoving and tearing like my stalker shoved and tore, simply taking me, his strong shaft soaking up the ecstasy from my helpless orgasm after orgasm.

“… Yes… yes… please… oh ple-eeeeeeeeeeeeeease…”

He filled me so full, he satisfied me so utterly, what the hell was ‘… ple-eeeeeeeeeeeeeese…’? What on earth was I pleading for?

The pulsing tremor was my cervix melting, opening, yearning for his throbbing semen.

When the stab came it shuddered the very core of my being. His pounding spear-head slammed deep into my aching center.

“… Oh… oh… oh fuck…”

‘Fuck’ was a sacred syllable. ‘Fuck’ was a word of power.

Walt’s exam papers clung to my ass-cheeks. Sheets of paper adhered to my toned butt with the hot juice streaming from my pussy. He felt it. His loving rhythm picked up pace. His big cock gathered up all the years of self-restraint, all the hours of dedication, and slammed them full force into my sopping surrender.

“… Fuck… fu-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…!”

I wasn’t protected. I wasn’t on the pill. I hadn’t taken any contraception in nineteen years. My only pleasure in nineteen years had been a mouthful of cum in a glory-hole, and a spunk-drowned gold ring shoving up my ass. I was thirty-seven years old and fertile as a teenage virgin. I wanted his hot semen in my womb more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.

“… Yes… yes… ye-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees…!”

His butt jerked. His stallion tail-bone kicked. He throbbed surge after surge of pulsing cum in where I wanted it most. Doctor Bradford’s hot spunk drenched my aching depths. His luscious semen pounded through my quaking cervix like a power jet through a molten valve.

It was over.

He lay on top of me for a long time.

I put my arms around him. We kissed.

He was heavily built but somehow his weight had a dream-like ease on top of me.

His cock took took a long time to relax. My satisfied pussy spent ages releasing him from between its spasming lips.

We kissed long and slow and sweet. We were in love. Both of us knew it. We were head over heels already. The light still tingled in my brain. The clicks still shivered up my spine. The lovely mellow feeling was as lovely and mellow as before, but our union was on a different plane completely. Our love was untouched by whatever this brainwashed feeling was.

I ached when he pulled out.

A torrent of juice and semen streamed down my silky ass-cheeks and flooded Walt’s exam papers.

We climbed down from his desk, both of us bewildered. The walls of books wavered like a mirage in a learned oasis.

Doctor Bradford hunted in a cupboard and found a packet of tissues. It was a very small packet, like you’d carry in a handbag if you had a cold.

I dabbed between my legs. I was so sticky it felt like I’d been swimming in a sea of cum and pussy juice.

We were both of us a bit shell-shocked. Doctor Bradford hesitated:

“Would you like to shower? You can shower back at my place.”

I don’t know why he sounded so embarrassed. We both knew I’d be spending a lot of time at his place from now on.

Doctor Bradford was a world-famous scientist and renowned teacher. I suppose it was natural that he should live in a big house, a dressed-stone mansion with mullioned windows like he had in his office and a loggia like you see in photos of Venice.

His house was old fashioned but his power shower was state of the art.

I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, my whole body purring. The light still tingled in my head, I could still feel the clicks in my spine, the mellow feeling was still in full flow, but my body was purring on a wholly different level, with the purring of love.

Luckily my practical panties hadn’t got too sticky. The damp patches on the front of my T-shirt had dried out.

I got changed in his bedroom. We both understood that I’d be spending a lot of time in his bedroom now.

There were plenty of delicious ingredients in his fridge, fresh and expensive, but not much sign of any cordon bleu cooking. I knocked up a nicoise salad—my years of specialist cooking for my son were going to come in handy—and Greg opened a bottle of Chablis.

We sat across the kitchen table from each other, enjoying the fact that neither of us was under an obligation to talk. Our silences said far more than our words.

Everything was perfect except…

… The tingling light in my head was pushing me to do something…

… The clicks running up my spine were insisting I raise a subject I’d forgotten all about…

… The mellow feeling focused to an urgent command that I…

… Speak to him about Walt’s exam results.

Ask my new lover to reverse the failed grades he’d given my son.

Use his influence to prevent my no-good son from being kicked out of college.

It was the only reason I’d come to see Doctor Bradford in the first place. It was the only reason I’d fucked him.

He looked into my eyes:

“You’re still worrying about Walt.”

I gulped.

“… Yes… yes… I guess I am…”

Walt was getting himself into trouble, he had gambling debts, he was running with a gang of low-lifes, but he was still my son.

My new man shook his head.

“I don’t understand it. He’s such a nice boy. Walt’s brilliant. Six months ago he was top of his class.”

I murmured:

“… Do you think something’s eating at him… you said you thought something might be eating at him…?”

The concern Doctor Bradford showed for my son took my breath away. It went far beyond any duty of care his position placed him under.

He shook his head.

“There must be. But God knows what. He’s got such a good life. He’s handsome. Walt’s academically brilliant… he’s got the perfect mother…”

I could feel myself blushing to the roots of my hair.

The perfect mother? I’d done my best. I’d raised Walt on my own, but I wasn’t too sure about ‘perfect’.

I felt it again, stronger than before…

… The tingling light in my head still pushing me…

… The clicks running up my spine still insisting…

… The mellow feeling focusing…

… Commanding me…

… Demanding that I speak to Greg about my son’s exam result, that I make him give Walt straight A-s. I was Doctor Bradford’s lover now. He’d do whatever I asked him. He’d make sure Walt wasn’t kicked out of college…

… I couldn’t do it…

… It was impossible…

… The very thought horrified me…

Greg would move heaven and earth to help Walt if I asked him. I was Doctor Bradford’s girlfriend now, soon to be his wife, if this warm, loving feeling was anything to go by. Greg was an honest, decent man, straight up and down in everything he did. He was the most noble person I’d ever met but he’d bend the rules if I asked him. He’d cheat on Walt’s behalf if I only said the word. He was in a position to change all Walt’s failed papers to straight A-s. And he’d do it. We were in love. He’d do it for me. I only had to ask him…

… And I couldn’t…

… I refused…

… Something deep inside me rebelled…

I shrugged:

“… Oh well… it’ll be alright… Walt will just have to take responsibility for his own actions for once in his life…”

The tingle instantly stopped tingling. In a flash, the light went off in my head. Suddenly the mellow feeling was gone. My brain ached. My mind reeled in pitch blackness.

“Chloe! Are you alright?”

The clicks froze in my spine, buckled me over. The mellow feeling had turned to a poisonous sting in my guts.

I shook my head.

I didn’t know where I was. I was in a strange kitchen with a strange man.

No. Not strange. Walt’s teacher. Doctor Bradford. I’d only met him on one previous occasion. What was I doing sitting at his kitchen table in this swirling darkness?

His brow was creased with worry:

“Chloe! What is it? Darling, are you okay?”

Darling? Why did he call me ‘darling’?

The darkness passed. Like a spell evaporating into inky vapor the confusion passed from my mind and I remembered…

… I loved this beautiful man in the checked flannel shirt… and he loved me… we were lovers… we’d just made love in his office, on his desk… the most rapturous love I’d ever known… and he’d brought me home to his place because we were going to stay together for the rest of our lives, no matter what became of Walt…

I mumbled:

“… Yes… yes… I’m okay…” I shook my head. I shook the inky vapor away. “… I’m quite alright… I just… I was just…”

Doctor Bradford was looking at me hard, with the piercing scrutiny of deep love. His brow furrowed:

“Are you under some sort of mind control, Christie? These are all the symptoms of a thorough brainwashing!” He gazed at my palpitating body. He stared into my dazed eyes. “I know. I’ve studied the subject. These symptoms you’re exhibiting are the exact symptoms of a brainwashed mind! Of some sort of long distance mind control! It’s a subject I’ve done some research in.”

I mumbled:

“… Maybe…” I shrugged. “… I don’t know…”

I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to say.

His eyes filled with a deep anxiety, unstinting concern. He asked me straight out:

“Has Walt been studying subjects he shouldn’t be? Has Walt been reading stuff he shouldn’t be reading? Is that why he’s flunked out of college? He’s been doing some research of his own? Is that the reason Walt failed all his exams?”

“… Well… I… erm…”

I didn’t want to tell him. I was reluctant to talk about the things I’d seen on Walt’s computer, even to the man I loved. Walt would be angry if I revealed the subjects he’d been dedicating himself to instead of his college curriculum.

I looked into Greg’s eyes. There could be no secrets between him and me:

“… Well actually… there’s these books and websites I found on Walt’s computer… Perhaps Walt’s been…”

I told him everything. The things I’d seen on my son’s computer were etched in detail in my mind. I gave him the names of the books and websites Walt had been consulting:

‘Mind Control, an A to Z of Brainwashing Techniques.’

‘Mind Break’ by Professor Stanislaus Wyszinski of Harvard University.’

‘Radio Wavelengths and Neural Receptivity’

‘The CIA Guide to Long Distance Mind Control’

The longer the list went on the more concerned Greg’s face became.

I confessed how I’d wondered if perhaps my son was brainwashing me. How I’d pushed the thought from my mind as too horrible to entertain.

Doctor Bradford reached across the table and took my hand.

“You really think Walt’s been playing games with your mind?”

Oh God!

My body went hot all over.

I loved him. He loved me. There could be no secrets between us. But that meant confessing the things I’d done when Walt brainwashed me!

I was going to have to admit that, yes, I believed I’d been brainwashed by my son on at least three occasions. The first when I bought a load of sexy clothes online. The second when I knelt at a glory-hole and sucked a stranger’s cock. The third when I climbed up on the back of my stalker’s motorbike and took his big cock, foreskin ring and all, up my ass.

I couldn’t do it. I felt too ashamed. There could be no secrets between us, but telling the man I loved the things I’d done with my stalker wasn’t an option. I’d rather die than have Doctor Bradford know what I’d done in my brainwashed state. He might stop loving me. His love might turn to loathing. I decided to tell him later.

His gray eyes grew thoughtful:

“Those books. Those websites. I know them. I’ve studied the theory of mind control myself. I know a bit about how the CIA brainwash people. The subliminal radio signals. The neural reconfiguration techniques used to control victims’ minds…”

Victims? Was I really a victim? Of my own son?

The thoughtfulness turned to a look of brightening vigor:

“Whatever’s going on I’m going to stop it, Christie! I’m not letting some bastard, even if it’s Walt, brainwash the woman I love! I’ll get to work straight away! I have the lab at my disposal. I should be able to find out who’s doing this to you, and how they’re doing it. I have the necessary instruments at my disposal to block the signals. I can set up a neural firewall around your mind so you’re not at this bastard’s mercy ever again!”

He went into detail. There was a lot that I didn’t understand, about Theta brainwaves and sonic signaling and the cutting edge developments in radio and phone technology, but by the time Greg had finished I was convinced— yes, both of us were convinced— that my son had been exerting some sort of control over my mind, and not just my mind, over my actions, over my body too, over everything I did.

Greg frowned:

“Walt made you come and see me so you could seduce me?” My heart stopped beating. I cringed. I wanted to curl up and die. “So I’d change his exam results and let him stay on at college?”

I swallowed:

“… Yes…”

He gazed into my eyes:

“And you seduced me?”

“… Yes…”

It wasn’t just that I was beautiful and smoking hot. Something about the brainwashed state made me irresistible.

He smiled:

“And you haven’t even mentioned Walt’s exam results?”

“… No…”

His smile was unbearably beautiful:

“You didn’t ask me to let him stay on at college?”

I mumbled:

“… I couldn’t…”

“Come here!”

I rushed into his arms. I kissed him. Our mouths battened hungrily. My plump lips lavished luscious moisture on his broad strong lips. Our tongues grappled helplessly in his mouth, in mine.

I still hadn’t mentioned the glory-hole or the biker. I loved Greg with all my heart, but I’d failed to be fully honest with him. I knew he’d never reject me now, but somehow I still hadn’t managed to confess about the monster cock with the gold foreskin ring, or how I’d knelt and sucked it at the glory-hole and taken it up the ass on a cliff-top beauty spot and that it was the same faceless cock that was stalking me.

When I got home I could see at once that Walt was in a bad mood.

He scowled:

“Where’ ve you been?”

It was none of his business, but I gladly confessed:

“With Greg. At Doctor Bradford’s place.”

My son’s eyes, formerly so lustrously trusting, turned sharp and beady:

“And?”

I shrugged.

“And what?”

He’d planted the command for me to fuck Doctor Bradford and make Doctor Bradford give him straight A-s directly into my brainwashed mind. He’d never actually asked me out loud to go and seduce his teacher for the sake of his college career. He couldn’t very well ask me now whether I’d succeeded or not, whether I had actually seduced Doctor Bradford—he knew very well that I had— if I’d made his college career secure, when he knew that I hadn’t.

He pouted.

“And… did you speak to him?” Walt already knew I’d done more than ‘speak to him’. “Did you get him to change his mind, let me stay on at college?”

I shrugged:

“… Oh… well… I tried… but… you know… Doctor Bradford’s a very straight up and down sort of guy…”

Walt’s eyes went all hot and sulky:

“You can’t have tried very hard.”

The look in his eyes turned dangerous. He’d been there with me in Doctor Bradford’s kitchen, watching my every move, watching me and Greg eating lunch, listening to every word we spoke. How or why he’d been there, trying to maintain his control over my brainwashed mind, I had no idea, but my son had been present when I refused to hassle Greg about his exam results. That was why he’d snapped me out of my brainwashed state so violently. That was the reason the tingle had stopped tingling and the light had gone out in my head so abruptly and my mind had been plunged in pitch blackness. It was Walt who froze the clicks in my spine and buckled me over, the mellow feeling turning to a poisonous stinging churning in my guts.

I held my son’s eye. I took a deep breath. It was time to confront him, to demand to know what was going on.

Was it really true he could brainwash me and make me do terrible things whenever he wanted? The glory-hole. The seat on the back of the motorbike. Who was this guy with the monster cock and foreskin ring who was stalking me? Was it Werner? Could it be the guy Walt owed money to? Was my son making me do unspeakable things with the guy he owed three thousand dollars to? To pay off his debt? Was Walt brainwashing me and turning me into a slut so I could pay off his gambling debts by servicing Werner? Or was my stalker someone even shadier than Werner? Was my stalker Walt himself?

No.

Never.

That couldn’t be.

I thrust the thought from my mind.

No way.

Walt was my son. I was his mother, the Mom who’d raised him up from a child.

It was impossible.

My son stared back at me.

I needed to confront him, ask him what was going on. Demand to know.

I couldn’t. I didn’t dare. Walt stared at me. His eyes were too hot and dark and dangerous for me to even speak.

Later in the afternoon Walt went out.

As soon as my son had left the house I called Greg.

“Are you alright?”

I was trembling, but I managed to mumble:

“… Yes… yes… I think so…”

How could I tell him that I was becoming more and more frightened of my own son?

Even just down the phone Greg’s voice was comforting:

“I’ve been looking at those books and sites you told me about. I’ve been matching them up with some of the theta brainwave theory Walt’s mastered on my course. I’m sure I’ll be able to hack Walt’s phone and stop the brainwashing, but it’s a long process, Christie. It’ll take some time. Are you sure you’re alright?”

I felt ashamed of the way I was mumbling:

“… Yes… yes… I guess so…”

Even down the telephone line Doctor Bradford’s voice was reassuring. I still couldn’t believe that I’d won the love of such a beautiful man.

“Why don’t you come over to my place?” My heart leapt. “You can stay here tonight.” I felt safer already. “We can spend every night together from now on.”

My anxieties dropped away. My heart burst with joy and love:

“… Yes… okay… alright… I’ll be right over…”

The thought of Greg’s strong arms around me, holding me tight, of his loving kisses, nestling into the wise power of his beautiful body through the long hours of the night, I felt stronger and more alive already.

I hurried into my bedroom to grab a few things to take to Doctor Bradford’s house…

… A click in my brain…

Oh God!

Walt knew what I was doing!

Walt, on his phone, could see where I was going!

No! This mustn’t happen!

… A tingling light in my head, the tingling somehow more powerful, the light somehow stronger than it was before…

… Voluptuous clicks rippling up my spine…

Knowing what was happening was horrible. Being fully aware of what I was undergoing was awful. I was entering the brainwashed state! My own son was controlling my mind… and my body… and I couldn’t stop it...!

… The lovely mellow feeling, stronger than I’d ever felt it before, engulfing me from head to toe…

I pouted.

I smiled to myself.

I sucked my bottom lip judiciously:

“… Mm-mmm… let’s see…!”

I rummaged in the bottom of my wardrobe.

“… Mm-mmmmmmm… yes…!”

Red leather hotpants.

I couldn’t remember buying them. They must have been one of my online purchases.

Red leather hotpants with a crotch zip!

How interesting!

Skin-tight.

It was an effort wiggling into them.

Whoever would have thought? A zip between my legs from my tailbone all the way under and around to the low-rise silver button under my navel. I must have noticed them in some online catalog. The waistband so low-rise miles of silky hip rose from the glued-on feel of red leather.

Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. They felt sensational.

And to go with them…?

… Let’s see…

A bikini top would be nice. I was feeling adventurous tonight. But not just any bikini top… the BDSM look…

… Stiff red-leather cups…

God it felt good squeezing my big tits’ sumptuous softness into the rigid cups, plenty squeezing out at the top.

I had to breathe in to fasten it at the back.

… Mm-mmmmmmm… yes…

… Red leather cups armored with chrome studs, bristling on the contours of my voluptuous breasts. I must have had a sixth sense when it came to shopping on my phone, the bikini top fitted perfectly.

I looked in the mirror.

Sensational.

My jelly-soft tits pouring out at the top. The hotpants so tight the red leather molded my voluptuous mound to perfection, the zip digging in where my hot slit was.

I guess I wasn’t going to Doctor Bradford’s place after all. I loved Greg with all my heart but it’d give Doctor Bradford a heart attack turning up as hot and irresistible as this.

I needed to go out. Of course I did. A girl doesn’t look as stunning as this to hang around at home. There must be a nice bar somewhere or a nightclub where my appeal would be appreciated.

A ring at the doorbell.

I decided not to answer it.

Who dared ring at my door when I was just getting ready to go out?

The doorbell rang again, more insistently.

I made up my mind to let them ring. They’d soon get fed up and go away. I could head on out after they were gone.

The bell just wouldn’t stop ringing.

“For heaven’s sake!”

I couldn’t stand it. I sashayed to the front door, enjoying the feel of tight, red leather straining at my shaved mound, zip teeth sinking into my succulent pussy. I opened the door.

“Oh?”

Some guys stood on the doorstep.

One two three four five… six of them!

The one with the broken nose said:

“Hi, Mrs Morel. My name’s Werner.”

His nose was squashed flat. There was something wrong with his eye. A scar all the way up his cheek pushed his beady black eye up at an angle. He said:

“There’s something we need to talk to you about. Can we come in?”

I gulped:

“… Well… erm…”

He wore a gray tracksuit, the red Miami Dolphins flash on the chest chapped and shiny, the sweat pants crotch hanging low, packed with plenty of weight.

I mumbled:

“… Erm… I was just going out…”

Werner looked at my hotpants, my overflowing bikini top. He grinned and pushed past me into the hallway.

The other guys followed him in.

A short fat dude with a shiny shaved head.

A lean, stringy guy in tan chinos.

An Asian guy with an army crewcut.

A big black guy.

A shirtless body builder in cammo boardshorts.

I followed them into the living room. In the living room Werner turned and smiled. His smile was as lopsided as the rest of his face:

“We’re friends of Walt’s, Mrs Morel.”

“… Oh…”

I didn’t like the way Werner was looking at me. I was sexy. I was hot. I was flashing plenty of skin, but not for heavy dudes like these guys.

“Your son owes us money n he’s takin’ his time repayin’ what he owes us.”

My voice came out all wobbly:

“… Owes you…?”

“Three thousand dollars, Mrs Morel. It’s a lot of money.”

“… Three thousand…?”

I didn’t have that sort of money available.

The fat guy leered:

“Walt’s a nice boy, but he’s a dead loss at poker.”

The stringy guy grinned:

“Super intelligent but a total dumb fuck when it comes to a game of cards.”

I could tell from the way he said it that these ruffians had cheated Walt. My son was intelligent. They’d bamboozled him somehow or other.

Werner came up close in front of me. He breathed garlic and Southern Comfort in my face. One hand cupped the big lump where his tacksuit sagged:

“Pity, aint it? Smokin’ hot Mom like you, n a dumb cunt like Walt, won’t pay us back our money.”

I managed to say:

“… Please… leave… get out of my house…”

The black guy laughed:

“Oo. She asks so nicely! Aint never heard a hot bitch ask as nice as that before!”

“The thing is,” said the Asian guy. “Walt aint got no money.” It was true. Walt’s college scholarship wasn’t much. I couldn’t afford to give him much pocket money. “So how we gonna get paid?”

They were touching me!

A big rough hand—I think it was the black guy’s—was cupping my butt, touching the place where the red leather dug into my curvaceous softness. An arm slid round my waist.

“… Get off me…!”

Werner grinned. His deformed eye shone:

“Let’s call it a family debt. There’s lots of ways a family can repay an outstanding debt.”

He wasn’t just cupping the lump in his sweat pants. He was massaging his cock. He was fingering his big cock through the grubby fleece!

“Specially when the family’s got such a gorgeous Mom.”

I mumbled:

“… Stop it…!… get off me…!”

The zip cut into a sudden yearning wetness between my legs. My pussy pulsed under red leather. I swayed between their brute bodies.

The fat guy leered:

“You sure dress nice, Mrs Morel. You always look as nice as this?”

Greasy fingers grasped the toggle of my zip. Tugged. Drew the zip open between my legs. I felt moist zip teeth unknit in my wet cunt.

“Walt’s Mom sure is hot.”

A finger slid inside me.

“… Oh… oh…”

“Wet too.”

I groaned:

“… Look…!”

I didn’t try to get the finger out from inside of me. I didn’t attempt to push the fat guy’s wrist away. His fingertip was finding delicious melting places in my throbbing pussy. My molten pussy lips spasmed on his hairy knuckle.

“… Oh… oh fuck…”

I undulated helplessly. The hand around my waist slid up to my breasts, slipped a voluptuous tit out of its stiff leather cup. His strong hand massaged my jellying softness, pinched my taut, tight nipple. My aching nipple was already yearning for his beery mouth.

“… Oh fuck… fu-uuuuuuuuuck…”

Werner was kissing me. His cock was fully erect inside his sweat pants rubbing against my open zip, grinding his rock-hard shaft into my juicy surrender. His tongue slid between my lips.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

I jerked my head away:

“… Get off me… what do you think you’re doing…?”

The Asian guy leered:

“What do we think we’re doin’?” Like I’d just asked a stupid question. He was fingering my clit, that’s what he was doing. He was churning my taut tight trigger in a mess of slippery sweetness. “We’re paying a pretty lady the respect she deserves.”

“… No… I said no…!… get off me…!”

Werner’s eyes were suddenly cold and hard and serious.

“We’ll get off you alright, Mrs Morel.”

He wet his lips with his tongue.

“I got a proposition, but.”

A proposition? What was he talking about a proposition?

He grinned:

“A high class whore like you’s five hundred bucks a night.”

Five hundred? Five hundred bucks? For a night? Five hundred bucks was nothing! For even a short time, with heavy dudes like this, for studs with the sort of things these guys had in mind!

He leered:

“There’s six of us. Five hundred bucks each. A full night, mind you. That’s three thousand dollars, Mrs Morel. The three thousand dollars your darling Walt owes us.”

A dreadful certainty took hold of me. Walt had sent them. My son had arranged for these monsters to come and make their ‘proposition’! When he knew I’d be ‘smoking hot’. When Walt knew I’d be dressed in the my filthiest fuck-me outfit yet! When I was brainwashed and totally at his command! My son was willing to whore me out to his mates! And I was ready to be sold! My brainwashed pussy was already yearning for Werner’s big cock!

A hot blur overwhelmed my mind. The room swayed. My body swayed in time to the room’s voluptuous lurching.

Doctor Bradford.

Greg.

The man I loved.

The man I loved with all of my heart and all of my body.

He was far away. He was just a distant thought, an apparition moving rapidly away from me.

I held onto him. I held on tight to the mere thought of the man I loved.

I screamed:

“Stop it! No! Get off me!”

I thrust them away.

Werner shrugged. He tucked his cock back in his sweat pants.

“Alright, Mrs Morel. We’ll stop. We’ll get off you, but why don’t you think about it, ey? Three thousand dollars and your darling Walt’ll be free.” His eyes hardened. “If we don’t get paid, well…” He shrugged. “… You wouldn’t want anything to happen to Walt, would you?”

They headed for the door. I heard the front door slam. I was trembling from head to toe.

Even this last, most terrible threat of all, had been arranged by my son.

They were gone. Walt’s low-life gangster friends were gone, but the glare was still tingling in my head, the hot thrills still gripped my spine, the mellow feeling turned burning hot, sweeping over me again and again and again.

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go to Greg’s house dressed like this… and I felt too good in my unzipped hotpants and fuck-me bikini top to even think of getting changed…

Those dudes had certainly been turned on by my hot body. Six big tough guys like that and their tongues had been hanging out for my luscious cunt. They knew a good fuck when they saw one. A minute or two more and they’d have ganged me as sure as God made little apples.

I slumped down on the couch and masturbated.

One. Two. Three… four times I brought myself off, my knuckles slithering between wet zip teeth, remembering the fat guy’s thick, hairy finger stabbing inside me finding the delicious melting place in my wet fuck-hole.

“… Oh… oh… oh fuck…!”

Nothing worked. The more times I climaxed… the harder I came… the more I needed to up the ecstasy to an even higher level…

“… Fu-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…!”

I needed to go out. I had to get out of the house. If I stayed in the house a single second longer I was going to explode.

I locked up and jumped in my car.

I couldn’t go to Greg’s house, not dressed like this, and the skin-tight leather felt too good to even think of peeling off. There was no way I was going to get changed now. I yearned with all my heart and body to hurry quick as I could to Doctor Bradford’s house, to throw myself into his arms, feel his strong, honest arms around me, protecting me from these terrible urges, but the urges were too strong.

I drove around for a long time, not knowing where I was going.

I needed to get fucked. I was frantic for a big cock to take my helpless pussy. I should have let Walt’s friends gang me. I could barely remember who Greg was.

I pulled in to the curb.

I was parked outside a three-storey house with an elegant, marble fascia. A Gothic-arched entrance encased plate glass doors.

A neon sign above the entrance said MAXIM’S GENTLEMEN’S CLUB in gold copperplate letters.

Gentlemen? It was exactly what I needed. MAXIM’S GENTLEMEN’S CLUB was precisely what I’d been driving around looking for for so long.

I slipped out of the car. I locked the car and hurried across the sidewalk. There weren’t too many people around to take any particular notice of a smoking hot chick in split-crotch hotpants—at least I’d zipped them up!— and a leather bikini top slipping into a ‘gentleman’s club’. A frisson of excitement thrilled through my hot curves and toned, voluptuous softness. Yep. Werner had wanted to fuck me alright. All six of them had been desperate to fuck me stupid. I was irresistible.

A man in top hat and great coat behind the reception counter looked me up and down.

I knew my lines straight out. I said:

“I’ve been booked. A gentleman has booked me.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what ‘booked’ meant, or which exact ‘gentleman’ I was talking about, but the receptionist didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Go right through, madame.” He called me ‘madame’! “The gentleman’s waiting for you.”

I passed through several doors into a murmur of conversation, refined but raunchy music playing, men standing round drinking and chatting to scantily clad party girls, many of them more scantily clad than me!

The men were naked except for leather thongs and weight-lifters’ belts and heavy chains tangling their pierced nipples.

MAXIM’S was discreet indeed.

Every man in the room was wearing a full-face leather mask with pointy ears, a leather dog’s snout and narrow wolfish eye-slits. Not a single male face was offered up to the semi-naked chicks they were chatting to.

My date was stepping towards me, his eye-slits glinting, his leather snout already sniffing my wet heat, his monster cock dangling down, a gold ring, like a gypsy’s earring, twitching in his foreskin.