The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’d chosen a pretty decent place, if I said so myself. It was upscale, but cozy, a blend of wooden, cushioned chairs and long, padded couches, a warm white electric candle decorating every table. A dining experience for the whole family, with good food and only slightly exorbitant prices.

The only hitch in my plan was the seemingly insurmountable challenge of starting a conversation.

“Well.”

My date—Stella was my date!—blinked slowly at me and replied in kind, “Well.”

She was dazzling tonight, resplendent in a floral-patterned blouse in reds and pinks to match her long, frizzy hair; a flowing silk skirt, tall leather boots, and earrings that seemed to pick up the soft light of the restaurant and make her glow.

By comparison, I felt like a penguin, all suit and tie and no flair.

“...Here we are then,” I completed, lamely.

She couldn’t hide the smirk that spread over her features.

“Sorry,” I winced, “I just never thought I’d actually be… here, with you. Having dinner. It all kind of feels like a dream.”

“A dream?” That infuriating, captivating smile was still there. “Best enjoy it while it lasts, then.”

“True!” I raised my glass, clinking it softly against hers. “I guess it’s redundant to ask you what you do for work?”

She snorted, “Is this how I find out that you don’t pay any attention to the other departments?”

“I pay plenty of attention!” I objected playfully, “I know that Marie is finally going on long service leave, and HR is seriously considering hiring two covers for her.”

A thought struck me, “I hope HR is okay with us being, you know…”

“...on a date?” she completed, grinning. “I’ve talked to them about it, and they’re fine as long as we keep it professional in the building.”

“Good! I’d hate for this evening to get tangled up in Sandra’s red tape.”

Stella pulled out an imaginary clipboard, and began taking notes on it. “How would you say your performance over this date has reflected your commitment to the company’s values?”

I groaned, and tried not to think about it anymore. Letting my anxieties go in a haze of wine and pleasant conversation.

Frankly, it didn’t matter what HR thought. Or if they made me fill out a questionnaire at the end of this date and any others in the future. The fact remained that when Stella smiled at me across the table, sparkling with warmth and humour, I was in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

(Previously)

“So, Will,” Dr. Stephanie Thorpe leaned forward, “would you like to talk about what, in your opinion, brought you here today?”

I’d discovered Dr. Stephanie, as she liked to be called, through a pin on the company noticeboard. I desperately needed someone to talk to, and though I was hesitant to trust random business cards on noticeboards, the reviews suggested she might be the real deal.

And she did bulk billing. Couldn’t say fairer than that.

I shifted a little on the couch, “I do, but I don’t at the same time. It’s… uncomfortable.”

“It’s alright,” she soothed. “Take your time. There is no judgment here.”

I shook my head, “I’m being stupid, I know. It’s not even that big a deal.”

“Often it doesn’t matter how trivial something is,” Dr. Stephanie said airily, “the conscious mind struggles with it anyway.”

“How do I tell my conscious mind to shut up?” I retorted bitterly.

Dr. Stephanie regarded me, a small smile gracing her lips. She stood up and retrieved a metronome from one of her shelves before setting it to one side in the space between us.

“Try closing your eyes and focusing on this while you talk,” she instructed. “It may be difficult at first, you may feel a little distracted, but the words will ultimately come easier when you don’t think about them. Does that make sense?”

I nodded, leaning back and closing my eyes. Focus on the metronome, don’t focus on what I’m saying. Easy peasy.

She set it in motion, and a surprisingly gentle ticking noise filled the room.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Now just relax,” she murmured, “and when you feel comfortable enough, you can tell me what’s bothering you.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“It’s… about my coworker,” I replied hazily. Tick. Tock. “I… her name is Stella, and she…” Tick. Tock. The noise was really distracting.

“It’s alright,” Dr. Stephanie coaxed, “you’re doing well, just take your time.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“She’s not what I imagined my ideal partner to be like,” I pressed on, letting the tick, tock drown out the noise from my brain that told me I should find talking about this shameful. “Well, I mean, there are some things I like about her, but…”

“There are other things you don’t?” Dr. Stephanie completed.

Tick. Tock.

“She’s… she’s too fat,” I sighed, and it was like letting a huge weight lift from my shoulders. It was blunt, rude, and I would have preferred to say it any other way, but who was I kidding? It was what I thought, and how I thought it.

“I have no problem with her as a person,” I clarified, “but as a sexual or romantic partner, I just never imagined someone like that doing it for me.”

“You’re saying that in the past tense,” she noted, and I heard the rapid scratching of pen on paper. “Did something happen to change your mind?”

Tick. Tock.

“There was… a Christmas party,” I said hazily, reaching back through the fog of my memory. “The office organises one every year. The venue that hosted us had mistletoe over the bar, and…”

“Ahh, mistletoe,” Dr. Stephanie smiled, filling the space as I faltered, unsure how to say the next bit. “Can I assume the venue set it up deliberately to encourage… connection between patrons?”

“You could say that, yeah…” I drifted off again. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“And? Did something happen?”

“I didn’t even realise I was standing under it,” I blurted, “but Stella, well she was laughing, I was having a good time, I figured we could just play it off as harmless fun. So I let her.”

“Understandable,” Dr. Stephanie said. “And how did that go?”

“Well, it was…” Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. “...one of the best kisses I’d ever had,” I confessed, fighting the urge to curl up in embarrassment. “I think I lost track of time, and it ended up going on for a lot longer than I thought it would.”

“So if I understand correctly, you stood there and let her kiss you, and it felt so enjoyable that you didn’t want to stop?”

Tick. Tock.

“Yeah.”

“Did it feel something like this?”

I knew what was about to happen a split second before it did… because it had happened before. Dr. Stephanie’s soft, sexy lips pressed to mine, and I was transported back to that surprising yet welcome fog of pure bliss. Any thoughts I had about unprofessional conduct were out there somewhere, beyond my reach.

Dr. Stephanie pulled back, and murmured something I didn’t quite catch, before kissing me again. But somehow I knew she was right, I was already so relaxed from the tick, tock of the metronome. Just like I was with Stella. So open, and obedient, I just wanted to…

“Sleep,” Dr. Stephanie commanded gently. Before I could even think to protest, she swept me up in another kiss, her tongue playing lightly and soothingly against my own.

I relaxed, and allowed her to guide me as everything around me grew fuzzy, replaced by a pleasant, sexy dream…

Oh, you sweet thing, you made it far too easy. Now tell me exactly what happened after Stella kissed you.

(Now)

“How would you feel,” Stella smiled slyly over the rim of her wine glass, “if I told you I’d planned this entire night out?”

I let my amusement show in the narrowing of my eyes. “How far thought out are we talking? 7:00, arrive at the restaurant? 7:05, a waiter gives us our menus? 7:09, we get our drinks? 7:12, a waitress gives us a basket of bread?”

I’d seen her approaching out of the corner of my eye. Just as I finished speaking, the waitress—Cloe, going by her name badge—arrived at our table and carefully laid a basket in front of us that still had a glorious fresh-from-the-oven smell wafting from it.

I gasped in mock horror, “Dear God, you’ve thought of everything!”

This made Stella giggle, which in turn made my stomach flutter with warmth. I could listen to that sound all evening.

“You’re funny, Will,” she teased. “Why do you never show that side of yourself at work?”

“Ah, well, you know,” I shrugged, “work is work. I go into business mode.”

She smirked, one eyebrow raised questioningly. I got the distinct impression that she was calling bullshit, and somehow that felt… comfortable. Like she was seeing me in a way that I hadn’t been seen for a long time, but really wanted to be.

“I guess I also don’t feel comfortable making jokes around them,” I said carefully. “Some people can be a little much.”

“You get talked over a lot, don’t you?” Her perceptiveness was sharp, but her voice was gentle and reassuring. Like she knew how it felt.

“Yeah,” I itted. “It’s only some people, but yeah.”

Stella nodded, and I could see behind her eyes that she knew exactly the people I was thinking of.

“Well,” she said, “I think work would be a much nicer place with you making jokes in it.”

It was the kindest thing anyone had said about me on a personal level in almost six years. I allowed myself to bask in it, to soak up this feeling I’d been missing of someone just wanting me to be around.

And more than that, I knew exactly what I wanted to say next, not because it was polite, but because I realised how much Stella needed someone to see her as well.

“What do you think you’d be like, if you could be more yourself at work?”

Stella blinked, and her gaze lingered on the basket of bread for a long moment as she took a piece.

“...Baking,” she said eventually. “I think, every once in a while, I’d like to bake something, cookies or scones or whatever, and bring it into the office for everyone to share.”

Why don’t you? The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I held it back. I could guess why Stella wouldn’t want to be the coworker everyone associated with food.

“I would love to try your baking, sometime,” was what came out instead.

Stella’s eyes shone at that moment, with something approaching tears. But not sad tears.

“Well, now I definitely want to,” she replied, something like hope in her voice.

“Let’s at least give this restaurant a chance first, though,” I said, as a waiter approached our table.

We laughed, and there was a brief lull in the conversation as we ordered our food.

“To answer your earlier question,” I said, after the menus were gone, “I think if you told me that this entire night was going according to your plan, I’d be shocked that I occupied so much of your thoughts.”

Her eyes widened, surprised at my response, “What do you mean?”

I cupped my hands over my face, and sighed into them.

“My last serious relationship was a long time ago,” I explained, “and I guess I felt just as overshadowed then as I do at work. I kind of made my entire life about her.”

Stella nodded sympathetically.

“So, if you actually did have some kind of surprise in store for me,” I continued, “I would be flattered to think I meant that much to you.”

Stella’s eyes travelled over me, her gaze soft and vulnerable.

“It means a lot to me that you’re here,” she murmured. “It’s been a while since my last relationship, too.”

I extended my hand across the table. She entwined her fingers with mine, and I squeezed gently, reassuringly. She didn’t seem to want to let go, and neither did I, so I drew out the moment by leaning forward to kiss her hand like an old-fashioned gentleman.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “but I’m here now, and for what it’s worth I’m really enjoying myself.”

Her eyes looked a little watery as I said it, but her smile was like the sun parting the clouds on her face.

“So am I,” she husked, and pulled our hands back across the table so that she could return the favour, pressing her full, sensuous lips softly against my knuckles.

Something stirred in my memory.

(Previously)

“Before we start today, Will,” Dr. Stephanie said, “I must apologise for a security breach that has affected your confidentiality. A certain individual decided to plant a hidden camera in my office and record every session I conducted for a whole week, unfortunately including yours.”

“Huh, shit,” I rubbed my chin anxiously. “Were they targeting someone in particular?”

“I have reason to believe I was the target,” she replied somberly, “but please be assured I have taken every possible measure to ensure the contents of your session do not escape any further.”

I huffed in exasperation. What an asshole. This was supposed to be a place I could open up freely.

“No worries, doctor. Thank you for telling me.”

“I appreciate your understanding,” she smiled. “Now, if you are ready, how are things with you?”

“Not a whole lot better, if I’m honest,” I itted weakly.

“Hrmmm”, her mouth twisted. “If I recall correctly, last time you said you were having strange dreams about your coworker, Stella, and you believed that it had something to do with her kissing you under the mistletoe?”

“Yeah,” I continued, “they’re very intense, and because it’s so weird for me to find her attractive, it feels like a nightmare every time.” I didn’t exactly when the subject of my dreams had come up last session, but I definitely ed talking about them.

“And, just to clarify, we are talking about attraction in a physical sense, rather than in of personality?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds shallow—”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing to find a potential partner physically attractive,” Dr. Stephanie soothed, “but I would like to explore the aspect where this seems weird or uncomfortable to you. Could you tell me more about that?”

“Well, it’s just—” I spluttered, unsure how I could say it again without just repeating myself, “It’s not me to be attracted to a larger body shape. It’s never happened before.”

“I see,” she mused. “And because it’s never happened before, that means that it can’t happen, ever?”

“Well, I guess not, but I just wonder, why now? Why her? I don’t have these sorts of dreams about anyone else, and I’ve rarely ever had them before now. And yet.”

“If I understand correctly, you have continued to experience these dreams in which you are sexually attracted to Stella, since our last session?”

“Every night,” I said, trying not to sound miserable… and trying not to sound desperately aroused. “Worse than before, even.”

Her eyebrow raised, “Worse?”

“More intense,” I corrected myself.

“How do you actually feel about your dreams in the moment?”

“Ashamed,” I itted, “a sort of feeling of ‘oh god, it happened again’.”

“What about while you’re actually having them?”

“I—” my words caught in my throat. I knew what the answer was, I just couldn’t say it. Not out loud.

“It’s okay if you were turned on by them,” she said matter-of-factly. “You can trust me.”

I relaxed. Of course, it was perfectly normal to talk to my therapist about this.

“Yeah, turned on as hell,” I mumbled quietly. “Maybe more than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“Interesting,” she said, briefly taking down some notes on her clipboard. “Why was it different after you woke up? Why the shame?”

I didn’t have an answer for her. I simply shrugged my shoulders.

“Are you enjoying them?”

I shook my head.

“If they disappeared tomorrow, would you miss them?”

I paused, considered the question, and slowly nodded my head.

“It feels like… a torment, at times,” I confessed. “Like I’m being shown something that can never happen.”

“Because you’re ashamed of your attraction to her?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s something we can work on, if you sleep for my lips.”

Before I could ask what that meant, she leaned forward and kissed me, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I wanted to understand what was happening, but my eyes were suddenly so heavy, my body relaxing against the couch like I was cooling down after long, tiring day.

Sleep for her lips. Sleep... Sleep…

(Now)

“You’re staring at my lips.”

I saw them curve upwards into a sly grin, before I snapped out of it a little guiltily.

“Sorry,” I blurted, “I was just thinking it’s a bit funny how this all started. Did you ever think, when you approached me under the mistletoe…?”

Stella actually blushed, and looked away, “Maybe a little bit.”

My brain, completely unable to process compliments, could only supply “...Huh.”

Stella giggled, “You’re adorable, Will. You’re handsome, and funny, and sweet, and I hadn’t kissed anyone for a while. How could I resist?”

“Stop, Stella” I groaned theatrically, “I’m drowning in praise.”

Stella smiled, but she looked thoughtful. “I guess I don’t know if I was expecting you to ask me out.”

“I’m sorry it took me a while,” I replied, raising my palms in contrition, “but truth be told, I’ve been unable to forget about it since it happened.”

A mischievous smirk spread across Stella’s face.

“Really?” she teased, but I thought I detected genuine surprise underneath it somewhere.

“Yeah,” I shook my head, flustered. “I know it was just a kiss, and a spur of the moment thing, but… just couldn’t get it out of my head. Is that weird? I’m sorry if it’s weird.”

“It’s not weird at all,” Stella murmured softly, and just for a moment, her expression was unreadable.

She gestured to the empty space next to me, “Can I come round there?”

“Sure!”

Stella had graciously allowed me to sit on one of the long couches while she took the chair on the opposite side—as long as I was enough of a gentleman to pull it out for her first, of course. Now, she took a seat on the couch anyway, and was not shy about leaning in close to me. I might have felt embarrassed that we were embracing so publicly, but all I could think about was how soft, and warm, and cuddly she was. God, I really had it bad for this woman.

“I guess there’s no point telling you that I don’t kiss on the first date?” Stella grinned.

“I… I guess not,” I husked in reply, my throat suddenly dry as I realised where she might be going with this. “We’ve already kissed, after all.”

“So you wouldn’t judge me if I said, maybe, kissing didn’t have to wait until the end of the date?”

I swallowed, trying frantically to maintain my ability to speak. Oh god, don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up.

“I think that should be entirely cool and reasonable,” I said, trying not to cringe at the words as they came out of my mouth in what felt like the wrong order, with the wrong inflection, and mispronounced.

“Good,” she sighed. “Because I’m tired of waiting to receive the slightest affection.”

“That’s fair,” I mumbled.

Stella’s mood dropped then, and I wondered what her thought process was. How she must be feeling. Maybe if it were me—and in the past, it had often been me hanging out for affection I never received—I would be a little bit trapped in my own head right now.

“But!” I said, holding up one finger sternly, “holding hands will have to wait until after marriage.”

Somehow, my lame attempt at humour worked. Stella snorted with laughter, burying her face in my shoulder.

“We already held hands just a few minutes ago!” she pointed out.

“Oh, shit, we did!” I realised. “Argh, there’s no going back, I’m committed now!”

We laughed, and found ourselves snuggling closer together. It felt surprisingly natural to slip one of my arms around her shoulders, allowing her head to rest against mine. At the same time, one of her hands found my waist, not low enough to be indecent in public, but certainly closer than I had been to someone in a long time.

Our eyes met. Our faces were very, very close.

“Stella?” I murmured.

“Yes, Will?”

“If we’ve already had a head start on the kissing part of dating… should we, maybe…”

“Keep it going?” Stella whispered. “Yes.”

I wasn’t sure who closed the gap first, but her lips were on mine. I was overcome by a heady mix of ion and, strangely, nostalgia. Hazily, it occurred to me that this was exactly how it had felt before, completely unable to stop… unable to think…

Even so, we were still in the middle of a restaurant, and there was only so long we could embrace before the staff, for one, would get upset by it. But no matter how I tried to say it, to stop this before it got out of hand, Stella was kissing me so softly yet insistently that I could barely get a word out.

“Um… uh… wah…I—”

“Shhhhh,” Stella murmured. “Nobody’s looking. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

She pursed her lips against mine in rapid smooches that sent pleasant tingles through my whole body, dissolving whatever thoughts were forming in my brain. I gave in, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her back. It never occurred to me to doubt her word. Of course nobody was looking. Why would they be? I could just relax and let her kiss me, drifting in a sea of pleasure and soothing, seductive whispers in my ear…

When Stella finally pulled away, grinning at me cheekily, I blinked my eyes open muzzily to see that our food had arrived without me noticing. And the waitress, Cloe, was still standing there, looking at us with an all-too amused expression on her face.

“I… I’m sorry,” I blurted, nearly having to shake myself awake, “I didn’t see you arrive. With the food! Thank you!”

“Not a problem sir,” Cloe smiled with all her teeth. “Just wanted to check that these are for you? One pasta, one steak with salad?”

I should have been embarrassed that we’d been caught canoodling in the restaurant, but since she didn’t seem bothered by it, I wasn’t either. In fact, when I thought about it, she was shielding us from view of the other patrons. Better one of her than a dozen or so others, maybe?

“I… yes, that’s us, thank you,” I replied, as Stella slipped gracefully out of my seat and back into her own. “Er, how long were you standing there?”

“Oh, not long at all, sir,” Cloe beamed, but there was a twinkle in her eye that definitely suggested ‘long enough’, or perhaps even more.

“Thank you, Cloe,” Stella inclined her head. “This looks delicious.”

“Let me know if you need anything!” Cloe said.

She retreated from our table, but I caught her winking at Stella as she did. What did that mean? Was she… had she been blocking other people’s view intentionally? To give us more privacy?

“I definitely don’t regret jumping the gun,” Stella murmured, and even off-balance, I could tell it wasn’t entirely the food causing the hungry look in her eyes.

“Hoo yeah,” I agreed immediately, letting out a rush of air I hadn’t realised I’d been holding back.

“That good, huh?” she teased.

“Incredible,” I said honestly.

Stella’s eyes sparkled. “Well,” she said slowly, “we might have to find time to do that again, then. After dinner.”

I sat back and ired her as we tucked into our food. It seemed like a little of her earlier shyness had leeched out of her somewhere along the way. She was more confident. More in control. And I felt privileged to see this side of her.

I had chosen this restaurant for its ambience. Not just the lighting, and the decor, and the comfort of the sofas, but because on nights such as this one, they hosted a live jazz quartet. By incorporating the ‘show’ part of ‘dinner and a show’ into the dinner itself, I’d been hoping we would have more time for, say, a walk along the beach, or any number of romantic activities we’d both been missing out on.

I thought it was a good plan. The conversation was flowing, the music was enjoyable without being too in-your-face, and the food was delicious, even the over-expensive dessert. At one point, Stella even slipped off her heels, trailing one, then both of her stockinged feet up the inside of my legs. It was impossible to hide the way my dick snapped to attention, but even as she gazed at me with darkened, teasing eyes, there was a hint of soothing to her motions as well. Like she was simply enjoying the connection, and didn’t want to let go.

“I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, as she withdrew her feet, slipped her shoes back on, and stood up from her chair.

I stood with her, intending simply to be a gentleman, but as she left the table, I couldn’t seem to make myself sit back down. And even as I wanted to appreciate the jazz pianist who was performing what was, in his genre, a killer solo, my eyes were drawn to Stella’s retreating form as she moved through the restaurant, into the shadows of the corridor where the toilets were. It was the most mundane thing, and I could barely even see her properly, but her very presence in the room was captivating. Why would I look at anyone else?

Then, to my amazement, she turned back to look directly at me, and extended a hand, beckoning me to her.

My mouth watered, suddenly dying of thirst for a drink that the restaurant definitely wouldn’t serve me. I had to taste Stella, right now, and somehow I thought she knew. That she was calling me over with exactly that in mind. I tried not to look like a zombie as I stumbled after her through the restaurant.

She caught me in her arms and dragged me further into the shadows, out of sight. Everyone was watching the jazz performance anyway.

“Are you crazy?!” I murmured, even as excitement coursed through my veins. “We might get caught!”

“Everyone went before the show started,” Stella whispered in reply. “We have the bathrooms all to ourselves.”

“You really wanna risk that?”

“Shhhh,” Stella kissed me softly, “Don’t worry about it. Let’s live a little.”

Live a little. Yeah, I could do that.

I allowed Stella to kiss me again, and felt her push me back against the bathroom door until we were stumbling through it together. My ass hit the sink counter, and I paused only for a second to check the geometry of our newfound situation, before I picked Stella up and whirled her around.

“Oh!” she gasped as she found herself sitting at my eye level.

“Please,” I rumbled, burying my face in her neck and resisting the urge to move further down. “Please can I taste you?”

“Well,” she purred, “since we’re already here, and you asked so nicely… I think I can be quiet.”

Now I did trail my tongue down her neck, as she sighed so agonisingly that my knees gave out, and I landed on the bathroom floor in front of her. I trailed my hands up her legs, underneath her skirt, as I gazed almost pleadingly up at her. She nodded frantically, and I gently hooked my fingers underneath her panties, easing them down, seeing for the first time that they were pink and floral. Somehow, that suited her.

Stella threw her legs open, and I couldn’t even wait to get her skirt out of the way before burying my face in her pussy.

“Fffffuck,” she hissed, “I’ve wanted this for so long. Lick me, please.”

I obeyed, swirling my tongue indulgently around her pussy as I revelled in my first taste of her. To my pleasant surprise, she tasted like honey. I knew that didn’t quite make sense, but at the same time, it was my only point of comparison. Sweet, and heady, and decadent.

I realised very quickly that I would beg her for a chance to do this again. Maybe not in a public bathroom, but what the hell. I was living a little. And god help me, it was exciting. I’d never got to do anything like this before, and I was yearning to make up for lost time.

So I drew it out, made it last. My tongue slowed down, caressing her gently… gently… before flicking just barely against her clit. The skirt was around my head, obscuring my vision of all but her gorgeous wet pussy, but I heard Stella take a deep, shuddering breath. Her hand found the back of my head through the silk, guiding me where she wanted me. Her other hand, I could only assume, was covering her mouth, trying to remain as quiet as possible.

I took the hint, and went a little faster, delved a little deeper with my tongue. Her twitches and barely-suppressed moans when my nose inadvertently brushed against her clit told me she was ready to cum, so I grabbed her thighs with both hands and sealed my mouth against her pussy as if I was french-kissing it.

I felt the hand on my head wrench away, frantically working the taps of the sink next to us until it was running water at full blast. It wasn’t incredibly loud, but it might just be loud enough to cover Stella’s orgasm.

I wanted to test that theory. With Stella grinding her pussy against my face, I dragged my face north, to her clit, and kissed gently around it, building her up until I finally pressed my lips to her clit and hummed low.

She keened softly as she gave herself over to the pleasure, and I licked like a man possessed, aching to taste more of her, to hear the lovely sounds of Stella cumming on my mouth.

One last worshipful french kiss against her clit, and I felt her draw back, exhausted but satisfied. As I pulled my head out from under her skirt, I realised with a grin that I felt satisfied too.

“Hhhaaaaah,” Stella sighed as the aftershocks ran through her body. “Wow.”

I staggered to my feet, and reached past her to turn the tap off. “That was… I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Me neither,” she murmured, her eyes drifting around the bathroom—which was just as empty as when we’d barged in. “It’s a miracle nobody—”

And she really shouldn’t have said that, because at that exact moment, someone tapped politely on the door to the bathroom.

Stella and I locked eyes with each other, suddenly frozen in anticipation. Nobody knocked on a public bathroom door before entering. They knew exactly what we’d been doing.

“Are you done in there?” came a quiet but unmistakably mischievous voice.

We gathered ourselves up and tried our best to look presentable, which was a token effort at best. There was no hiding the flush of exertion on Stella’s face, nor the mess my hair was in after being trapped between her glorious thighs.

Stella opened the door to reveal Cloe, smiling brightly, dressed now in a pair of waterproof trackpants and a bright yellow raincoat.

“Sorry to disturb you,” she said quietly, still in that practiced customer service cadence, “but we’ve had to close this bathroom for cleaning. I’ll have to ask you to leave as soon as you’re… finished.”

“I am so sorry—” I began, but Cloe waved me off.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, “this was the only way I could think of to keep everyone out of your hair.”

Stella frowned. “You’re… you’re not going to dob us in?”

“And ruin your night?” Cloe fluttered her eyelashes meaningfully, “I would never. Besides,” she winked at me, “it sounded like you were having a very good time, and I respect that.”

I felt myself unclench. “Thank you, ah, Cloe,” I babbled, “you really didn’t have to.”

Stella nudged my shoulder meaningfully, “Yes, we really owe you one.”

Ah, yes. I got what she was driving at.

“The least I could do is give you a tip, for your service,” I offered, a little awkwardly.

Cloe smirked at me. I got the sense that she wouldn’t exactly push me, but she still technically had me over a barrel here, and was thoroughly enjoying herself about it.

“I suppose,” she said with a sly drawl to her voice, “if you really felt like it, I would find it hard to refuse.”

I parted with the modest amount of cash in my wallet without a second thought.

“Hope you enjoy your evening!” she chirped, letting us out discreetly before closing the door behind us, apparently to actually clean the bathroom. Thinking about it, that was probably sensible.

“Oh. my. god.” Stella wheezed quietly as we got back to our table. “Maybe that was a little too impulsive.”

“I can’t believe we did that!” I said, my face redder than it had ever been.

“I’m sorry we got caught.”

“It’s fine,” I waved a hand casually, “we got away with it, no harm done.”

“Well,” she murmured, blushing slightly, “that, and it didn’t really give us any time for, well… you.”

Oh. OH! Huh. I suddenly realised that that hadn’t even occurred to me once, and even now that I thought about it, I was hardly bothered by it. It was simply that I enjoyed pleasing her.

“Oh! Don’t worry about it,” I said hurriedly, “I liked doing that for you. A lot, actually.”

“Really?” Her eyes glinted as she rested her chin on her hands. “Does that mean I could look forward to… more of it?”

“Oh yeah,” I whispered throatily, the hunger in my voice impossible to hide.

“Well,” she grinned, raising her glass to toast with me, “I can’t wait.”

(Before)

“That’s it, gooood boy,” Dr. Stephanie purred. I was naked from the waist down, and she was stroking my cock as I lay on her lap, my face smothered underneath her breasts. I was throbbing, and twitching, but no matter how desperately I ached for release, Dr. Stephanie always stopped just one stroke short of sending me over the edge.

“You can’t cum,” she whispered. “You know that, right? Say yes for me.”

I could only groan incoherently, but she took it as affirmative.

“That’s right, you can only cum for your dreams about Stella. More powerfully, more explosively every time. And it will keep on that way until you ask her out. Say you understand.”

“Yemmphhhhh.”

“Are you thinking at all about Stella’s flaws?”

“Nnnnnnnn.”

“Are you certain? Search your mind, let the pleasure chase all negative thoughts away… that’s it… are they all gone?”

“Ymmmmphhh.”

“Do you feel ready to ask her out?”

“Ymph! Yemph! Yes!” I cried, my mouth finally working its way out from under her breasts just to make my answer unmistakable.

Her hand stopped stroking. I felt myself drifting, dizzy with pleasure and aching for release, but no longer being tortured with that out-of-reach orgasm.

“That’s very, very good,” she cooed. “Only then, the dreams will stop. And your mind will no longer be tortured by possibility, but calm and peaceful, open and accepting. Relax… relax… the rules…”

I blinked. Dr. Stephanie was sitting opposite me, and I knew we’d had a productive session, and that I was ready for the next step. Even if I didn’t the finer details.

I sighed and sank back into the couch. “I feel like I’ve wasted your time, Stephanie. All these sessions, and I should have just asked her out when she kissed me.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Dr. Stephanie smiled indulgently. “We all need someone to talk to sometimes.”

“But it’s such a small thing,” I protested.

“Well, only if you view it as purely being about asking someone on a date,” she said, a knowing look in her eye. And I thought I understood. A lot of personal growth had gone into this.

“And then, somehow, my dreams will stop?” I ventured.

Dr. Stephanie steepled her fingers over her mouth, amused by something. “Somewhere along the way, you started seeing Stella in a romantic and sexual light. The dreams were just a way for your subconscious mind to process that while you were consciously trying to deny it. If you have something real to focus on, you’ll stop pushing it to the back of your mind.”

“Yeah,” I nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that makes sense. Thank you, doctor.”

The park was beautiful at night: old-style metal streetlamps lit our way through the trees, bleaching the fallen jacaranda petals to a washed-out lilac. I didn’t care. They could be vibrant and purple some other time. The ambiance right now was perfect, and just for us.

“I asked you how you’d feel if I planned this entire night out,” Stella murmured, turning to look at me. There was something like nervous optimism in her eyes.

“Yeah, I ,” I smiled.

She took a deep breath. “Well… I did.”

I raised my eyebrows, silently asking her to elaborate.

She eased herself closer to me. I could only appreciate how natural it felt to hold her in my arms for a precious few seconds before her lips pressed to mine, chasing my thoughts away.

“I hypnotised you,” she whispered against my mouth, “to dream about me, and to want to date me.”

“Huh, cool,” I replied hazily.

She pulled away, her gaze travelling over me with amusement. It took my brain a second to catch up.

“Wait, for real?” I blurted.

“I’m worried I might have overdone it, actually,” she deadpanned, but a burst of laughter found its way through her composure. “I even set you up with a therapist by leaving her card on the noticeboard, right where you’d see it. She didn’t fry your brain completely, did she?”

I wanted to pull into myself and actually think about this—it seemed like it might be an important revelation—but Stella’s hands were stroking up and down my arms so soothingly, I couldn’t get my brain into gear. I latched onto the first thing that came to mind.

“My therapist? She’s been hypnotising me too?”

“She’s actually the expert on hypnosis,” Stella grinned. “When I realised my suggestion to dream about me had worked, I figured she would point you in the right direction.”

“What direction was that?”

Stella fluttered her eyelashes, “Why, to fall hopelessly in love with me, of course.” She feigned a dramatic swoon, collapsing into my arms. As I caught her, she used her newfound leverage to pull my head down, pressing a warm, ionate kiss to my lips that almost made my knees buckle.

“Well, it’s working,” I muttered blearily as I heaved her off me.

“Oh, Will, look at you!” Stella laughed. “You’re completely gone!” Her expression softened. “You don’t feel… betrayed? Hoodwinked?”

“Should I?” My brain wasn’t fully back in gear yet, clearly. But it felt like a valid question. “This has been the best date I’ve been on in years. Maybe ever, if you don’t count already being in a relationship.”

“Why?” Stella, unlike me, was having no trouble keeping her wits sharp. “Because I kissed you?”

“Well, yeah, that,” I itted, “but it’s more in the way of… if you put it all together, the kissing, the planning, the therapist, even. How did you pull that off??”

“Dumb luck,” she itted with a shrug. “Looking back, I probably should have just told you to make the appointment when I had you hypnotised, but we got interrupted. So I slipped you her card instead.”

I ed. We’d jumped apart awkwardly at the sound of Marc, laughing raucously at us from across the bar. I ed parsing his alcohol-fuelled thoughts—equal parts congratulatory, that I was scoring with a chick, and judgemental, that in his opinion, I was scoring with an ugly chick. If I really tried, I also ed the shape of the missing time in my memory. How long had Stella been hypnotising me by that point? How much further could she have gotten if Marc hadn’t intervened? Maybe if he’d known what he’d interrupted, he’d have seen it as rescuing me.

Well, fuck him. I didn’t want to be rescued from this, and certainly not by people like Marc.

“The point is,” I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present, “the kissing is, well, it’s only part of the thing. You’ve made me feel wanted. Desired. Worth pursuing. And I think you can relate to that.”

Stella’s eyes were very round, and full. She took my hands in hers.

“My weight will always be part of me, Will,” she said softly, “I just want someone who can look past it, see all of me, and tell me I’m good enough.”

“You are,” I insisted, for once taking the initiative to kiss her on the forehead. “You’re more than good enough. I know I didn’t always think that, but thank you for giving me a chance to change my mind.”

We embraced then, no kisses, no hypnosis, no secrets, just two people holding each other in what felt like the eye of the storm.

“The waitress,” I murmured as a sudden thought occurred to me, “was she in on it too?”

I felt Stella smile into my shoulder. “I didn’t tell her directly, but that definitely wasn’t the first time she saw a woman hypnotizing her boyfriend on a date. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

I nodded, “Does that mean I’m your boyfriend, then?”

“You really want to be?” Stella asked. “Even though I hypnotised you into it?”

“As long as you promise to only use your powers for evil sometimes,” I replied, smirking.

“Well I’m not planning on making you rob a bank. What counts as evil?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged, “fun and profit?”

Stella bit her lip in thought, taking my hands and guiding them to her ass.

“I like to be touched, Will,” she whispered. “I want that to be okay.”

“It’s very okay,” I replied, taking her invitation to run my hands over her curves.

“And I like lying around for hours doing nothing during my time off,” she added.

“Ideal girlfriend material,” I said.

She giggled, then hoisted herself up onto her toes, kissing me again.

“Imagine eating me out,” she whispered, “while I relax and play video games.”

And all of a sudden, I was imagining it. A lazy Sunday, warm and comfortable with not a care in the world, just the taste of her on my lips and the sound of her distracted moans, trying half-heartedly to concentrate on the gameplay but slowly losing herself to the pleasure, as I licked and licked and licked…

“Wow,” Stella said, eyes sparkling with mirth as I shook myself back into the present, “that really got to you, huh?”

“I want it,” I gasped raggedly. “I want you. Whatever that looks like. Girlfriend and boyfriend. M…mistress and slave. I don’t mind, I just want to try, with you.”

Stella leaned up and kissed me again, slowly, as if lost in thought.

“You don’t like ‘Mistress’, do you?” she murmured against my lips. “What do you really call me, in your head?”

“My Queen.” The answer came to me automatically, like a reflex. And yet, it felt right.

“Yes, I like that,” Stella laid her head against my chest, listening for my heartbeat. “I’m definitely keeping you.”

“I think I’m going to like being kept,” I chuckled.

And we swayed together under the moonlight, for a moment that felt like an eternity. Like a whole new life beginning.