Introduction to Samantha Part 2
Hey guys. I think I fucked up.
Last week I submitted my first erotica story after years of contemplation. I expressed some of my fantasies and one I mentioned...quite vividly...was being mind-controlled by our neighbor Mike. Now, I knew by posting an erotic story online would open me up to potential from a wide variety of readers. But I didn’t expect to get some of the responses I did. Some were extremely complimentary and I’m extremely grateful for those people that took the time to say such kind words to me. But there was one email I got that was...much more. That email was short and to the point. Clearly they had enjoyed my writing but that wasn’t the point this person wanted to make.
The email read: “Your fantasy isn’t so far-fetched, Samantha. Would you like to find out what it’s like to live it?” It was signed “Your devoted reader, Paul.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just re-reading those few lines over and over again. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I all but asked for this by expressing my mind-control fantasies to the public. I certainly couldn’t be mad at this Paul guy for saying such a thing. All I had to do was delete the email and move on with my day. It was that simple. But it wasn’t. As I kept reading that same email over and over....and honestly, as I got wetter and wetter thinking about his words; I came to the realization that I HAD to respond. Sure, it was all bullshit and it’s not like he could really make my mind-control fantasies come true. But....what if there was just that one small sliver of chance that somehow, someway one man DID have those kind of powers—and could I live with myself without ever finding out? A week ago I had no intentions of ever having this kind of conversation with a reader. I do love my husband and would never cheat on him in real life, and I certainly wasn’t about to start emailing some pervert on the regular....but I had to know for sure.
So with my heart racing and knowing that I was potentially opening up a pandora’s box, I hit the reply button and began typing.
“Paul,” I began, trying to sound cool and collected despite my trembling fingers, “I can’t say I’m not intrigued. But you can’t really expect me to believe someone really has such powers.” As i continued i knew that the next sentence i typed would be the one that potentially would cross the line. “But...I’d like to see you prove it... until next time, Samantha”. I then hit send and took a deep breath, knowing this was already going too far.
I kept trying to reason it out. It’s not like I was agreeing to anything. Right? Just a little back and forth between a writer and a devoted fan. That’s all it could be. Heck, in many ways, just masturbaing like crazy in my first story submission was arguably more unfaithful than this. Right? Even if my husband found out, it’s not like I’m actually cheating on him at all. Right?
But as the hours ticked by and my inbox remained eerily silent, I became more and more impatient and strangely sexually frustrated that I wasn’t getting the email response I wanted. This Paul asshole decides to send an email that he knows would tease me and then can’t even follow up with a timely response when I’m clearly showing that I’m interested.
So, what’s a woman to do when she’s feeling horny and neglected by email inbox? Well, I turned to the one person I could always rely on to give it to me—my unsuspecting husband. That night, I practically attacked him when he got home from work. He was tired and didn’t seem to be in the mood at first, but not fucking me was not going to be an option today.
He stumbled back, surprised by my sudden aggression, but I didn’t care. I needed release, and he was going to be the one to give it to me, whether he knew it or not. With more hunger than our love life had seen in quite some time, I pushed him onto the living room floor and began to strip his pants off, all while my mind was racing with the words of that email. “Your devoted reader, Paul,” echoed in my thoughts as I straddled my husband, my pussy aching for relief. I couldn’t help but imagine being mind controlled into fucking some cock that I would.normally be disgusted by. Every thrust my husband gave me, every moan that escaped my lips, felt like it was being dictated by this stranger’s will. And fuck, it was hot. I rode him like a bitch in heat, my tits bouncing in his face, my eyes glazed over with lust, all while the thought of being under someone else’s control had me on the brink of insanity.
In the heat of the moment, I leaned down and whispered into his ear, “Tell me what to do.” It was a simple request, but I desperately needed to hear him take charge. I needed to feel like I was being used, like a good little mind-controlled slut should be. But instead of the authoritative commands I craved, he just looked at me with confusion in his eyes, his dick still pumping in and out of me like he was on autopilot. “What do you mean?” he panted.
I wanted him to talk dirty to me sooooo bad, to order me around like I was his personal toy. But instead of speaking my truth, I just...gave up. “Nevermind,” I gasped, closing my eyes tight and doing my best to get lost in that world again as my husband came inside me minutes later. I did my best to compliment him and show him the normal affection afterwards, but deep inside, my heart just wasn’t in it. I needed more. I needed something...different. Something....impossible? And before we climbed into bed that night, I checked my email one final time only to find an empty inbox yet again.
I woke up the next day mad at myself. I was letting a random stranger’s email completely affect my mood, my mindset, and most importantly—my affection for my own husband. With a renewed determination to focus on reality, I made him a full breakfast before he had to head to work. Eggs, sausage, and biscuits, all laid out on the kitchen table with a side of gravy; filling the house with a warm, homey aroma that seemed to ground me. It was a simple, mundane task but it felt surprisingly satisfying. Plus, watching him scarf down the food with a smile on his face was worth the effort. “Thanks, babe,” he said, smacking a kiss on my cheek. “You’re the best.” We exchanged the mushy “I love you’s” before he headed out the door, and for a brief moment, I felt a pang of guilt for the thoughts I’d been having. This silly.fetish of mine was something to get off to, not to act on.
And with my husband off to work and a renwed mindset, I sat down and checked my email for the first time that morning. And there it was. My inbox had a dozen or so messages but one stood out more than any other. It was from Paul. I hesitated to even open it but I knew I had to.
“Samantha. Because you responded to my email, you are now under my control. Today, just to give you a small sample.of my power, you will wear something that makes you feel sexy, but also a bit exposed. Find the shortest skirt and wear no panties at all. You must go to the grocery store and bend over three times to get something off the bottom shelf while another man is in the same isle. You can change back into normal clothing a half hour before your husband arrives home from work. Email me tonight about your day and I’ll decide from there what you will do next. Have fun! Paul”
Have you ever wanted something so bad you convinced yourself it was possible? Like watching Superman fly? Like watching the Nordic tracker for Santa Claus? In my mind, I knew this couldn’t be real but even as I told myself that, I found myself walking to my closet.
I picked out the shortest skirt I owned, one that barely covered my ass even when I wasn’t trying to show it off. It was a skirt I had bought for a wild phase that had never really happened. But today, it was going to get some use. And as I slipped it on, I felt a weird sense of...excitement? Nervousness? Fuck, what was I doing? WHY was I doing it? I could stop this at any time. Couldn’t I?? It’s not like he REALLY has this power.....as I pulled the skirt up over my plumper-than-a-white-girl-should-have ass.
As I looked in the mirror, I realized I was becoming a character in one of my many favorite mind control stories. And with that realization, I felt a thrill rush through me like never before. And besides, this “request” of Paul’s—while certainly depraved—wasn’t so crazy that I couldn’t rationalize it as my own desire to be a little exhibitionist today. This doesn’t prove anything about him actually having mind control power. Right?
So, with a deep breath and my heart racing, I headed to the store. The skirt hugged my ass like a second skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, and my pussy was already soaking wet from the mere thought of what was to come. The anticipation was driving me wild. Would anyone even notice? Would anyone care? Or would I just be another middle-aged woman wearing an inappropriate skirt for a trip to the grocery store?
So going by Paul’s orders, I bent down to pick a loaf of bread up. My skirt wasted no time in riding up my ass even further. My knees slightly spread to give a peek at my bare pussy. Just to my left, a man in his early thirties, had his eyes go wide as saucers. But I played it cool, like I hadn’t done anything at all abnormal.
By the time I got to a fruits and vegetables section and spotted a new man to expose myself to, my pussy was practically begging for attention. As I selected the ripest cantaloupe, I made sure to bend over just right so that my ass was clearly poking out from under my skirt. The man, who couldn’t have been more than five feet away, glanced over and I could see the hunger in his eyes as he took in the sight of my bare cheeks. I felt a thrill of power as I straightened up, knowing he was left with the image of my exposed pussy burned into his mind. I couldn’t help but smile as I placed the melon into my cart and casually strolled away, my legs slightly shaking from the rush of adrenaline.
For the third and final “task”, I picked the most crowded aisle I could find over In the freezer section. But as I crouched down to grab a pack of frozen peas, I saw him—Mike, our neighbor. The one that I had been using for all my perverted mind control fantasies over the past few months. Of all the fucking people to run into in the store, it’s the one that actually lives directly beside me. But thinking about Paul’s command, and convincing (?) myself that I had no choice, I bent over, giving Mike the best view of probably his entire life, with my pussy glistening and begging to be seen. He went red instantly but he sure didn’t turn away—taking in a sight he had probably fantasized about for years. I let him take in the visual of me bending over, wondering what he would do with me in this position, before finally standing back up 30 seconds later, giving him a wink....why the fuck did I give him a wink?....and heading to the check-out isle.
My pussy was soaking wet and I couldn’t do the self-checkout fast enough to get back to the car. Not because of embarrassment but because I was as turned on as I’ve ever been. I threw my groceries into the trunk and slammed it shut, my heart racing in my chest. Before I could even start the car, I slid into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. I was in such a frenzy that I barely noticed the other shoppers ing by, their eyes glancing curiously in my direction. But who cared? This was for me, no one else. I had finally had someone—at least attempt—to mind-control me and I convinced myself that I did this entire trip completely helpless to my own mind. With that, I reached under my skirt, my fingers sliding through my wetness, and started to rub my clit in a furiously fast, deliberate circle.
The sensation was heavenly, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body, but it was the thought of Mike’s eyes on me that really pushed me over the edge. I pictured him jerking off to the sight of me, his sad little dick in his hand, as he watched me leave the store. And here I was, about to make myself cum in the parking lot of the supermarket, like the slutty protagonist of my own twisted tale. I couldn’t resist the urge anymore, so with one hand on my clit, I used the other to start pumping two fingers in and out of my dripping wet pussy. Much like my last chapter, even trying to write about it to you readers is making me incredibly wet all over again.
Within minutes, my body was ten, and I could feel the orgasm building deep within me. It was like a volcano ready to erupt, and there was no way to stop it. My breath came in short, sharp gasps, and my eyes rolled back in my head. And just like that, I was cumming like crazy, my juices gushing out of me and soaking the car seat. I dare say I had never had a solo session this intense in my entire life. It was messy and wanton, and I didn’t give a single fuck who saw or heard. The pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming to care about anything else.
But as the waves of pleasure subsided and my breathing began to return to normal, I slowly opened my eyes and saw him. Mike was standing outside my car, his own eyes wide with shock and arousal, his hand shaking slightly as he held his hand up and waved. He had seen everything. He had watched me, his neighbor and crush, cumming in my car like a cheap porn star. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
I hastily pulled my skirt down and started the engine, hoping to make a quick getaway. But as I looked over at him, I saw the smug smirk spreading across his face, and something in me snapped. Without thinking, I rolled down the window and shouted, “You liked that, didn’t you, you fucking pervert?!” The words echoed through the parking lot, and a few people turned to stare. Mike’s smirk grew wider as I drove away.
That night after my husband had gone to bed, I composed my email to Paul, detailing every steamy second of my trip to the grocery store. I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill as I wrote about Mike watching me masturbate, his eyes glued to the show I had unknowingly put on for him. I had never felt so exposed, so...used, and it was intoxicating. As I hit send, I was already eagerly anticipating what Paul’s next command would be. What kind of sick, twisted scenario would he dream up for me now? Would it be something even more depraved, something that would push me further out of my comfort zone? I lay in bed, my mind racing with the possibilities. And besides, if Paul makes a request too ridiculous, I just won’t do it.
Right?