The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Can I Fix Your Phone?

I heard a sharp crack as my phone hit the floor. Everyone in the class was staring at me, and I tried not to make eye contact with anyone as I reached under the desk, searched around for it with my hand, and picked it up. I confirmed what I expected when I felt the screen, there was a spiderweb of fissures all over the screen. Great, I wasn’t even supposed to have it in class, and I couldn’t exactly afford a new one.

I’m Adria. I have dark brown eyes, curly black hair, pale skin, and little dots of acne all across my forehead. I’m short, about 5′1″, I’m skinny. Aside from that I don’t have much going for me, with the possible exception of my breasts. I don’t know a lot about what makes some boobs good and others bad, but mine are pretty large, which is nice.

When the teacher was finished assigning the homework and class ended, a scrawny blond-haired kid wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a monkey and “Maybe manager wanna write godd@mn login page himself” walked up to me. I knew him because he sat next to me, but I didn’t really talk to him.

“I’m Quinn. Could I see your phone?” I had already inspected it, and it wasn’t working, all it would do was show the lock screen and nothing else. I figured I didn’t have anything to lose because it was broken anyway, so I sighed and handed it over. After turning it on and seeing that the ‘slide to unlock’ screen wasn’t doing anything, he began systematically poking the screen, looking for a portion that was still working. He seemed disappointed in the results.

“What do you think,” I asked.

“Well if it’s just the glass it should be easy to fix, I have everything I need to at home.” It would save a lot of money if it worked, but what was in it for him? “If it’s not the glass and the screen is actually broken I don’t think I’ll be able to help you. Want me to look and see?” I didn’t really have anything to loose, so why not? Maybe he only wanted to see if he could do it.

“Yeah, that’d be really nice of you actually. I don’t have anything to pay you though...”

“No, don’t worry about it. It shouldn’t be too hard. I can probably get it done tonight, or tomorrow night depending on how much homework I get.”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you! Thanks, man.”

“Haha, no problem” he said, walking away. The remaining hour of school went quickly and mostly uneventfully, although it felt a little weird not to be texting Ashley or any of my other friends. I tried to do my homework on the bus ride home, but I had no idea how to do any of it past the 3rd problem. I read the relevant sections from the textbook but couldn’t understand what it was saying, and even after I got off the bus and worked for a while, taking periodic breaks to joke with my brother of course, I hadn’t made any progress. I eventually just gave up and watched Sword Art Online for a few hours, and other non-productive things.

The next day at lunchtime, when I was in the “chicken” nugget line, Quinn came up to me with a bit of swagger in his step.

“Oh hello,” I said.

“I got it,” he said as he lifted up my phone, sans crack. He adjusted his glasses and handed it to me with a proud smile.

“Thanks so much!” I said, as I turned it on and fiddled with it for a little bit.

“No problem.” He ran back to his table, and I got my mostly-cooked chicken nuggets. I went to the emptiest table I could find, popped my earbuds in and began to listen. Immediately, I was unable to move, my focus transfixed on the song, unable to really think about anything else. And the entire time, I was hearing “YOU WILL DO WHAT THE PERSON WHO FIXED YOUR PHONE SAYS TO DO”, although I was unsure why exactly I was thinking that, when it just sounded like my normal song. I decided not to think about it, I didn’t like thinking about it, thinking about it was bad. After the two minutes of the song were over, I pulled my earbuds out of my head and glanced around. Quinn was staring at me, but he quickly looked away. I ate the rest of my chicken, feeling shivers about the song. Should I listen to it again, to see if it would happen like that? No, it was too creepy. Maybe later today at home.

Several hours later, I was scribbling notes as fast as I could about solving quartic functions with tangents embedded in them. I felt a tapping on my right shoulder, but didn’t stop writing. He whispered “Could you stop writing?” but I ignored him. “Adria, stop writing.” God, what was he doing? Couldn’t he see I needed to focus? I only wrote faster, but I glanced at him. He seemed genuinely confused at my continued writing. He seemed to have a thought, and said “tap your nose.” Without even thinking about it, I rose the hand I was writing with and bopped myself on the nose. That was odd. I began writing again, and the rest of class seemed to go without incident. When the bell rang, I got my stuff together and started toward the door. But before I got there, Quinn stopped me and handed me a slip of paper that had a locker number on it and whispered “meet me here when school gets out.” Yeah right, like that was going to happen. I threw the paper in the recycle bin and walked to my last class.

About an hour later I was hanging out at locker 310, unable to move my legs. All my stuff was still in my locker, too. I supposed I might as well meet Quinn here, considering he fixed my phone and all, even though he was being kind of rude in math class. I saw him turn the corner and walk up to me, similarly lacking in school materials. He opened up the locker, took out a coat and put a couple books in, and shut the door. I was expecting him to say something, but he didn’t.

“So, what did you want to meet me here for?” Maybe he’d tell me so I could go back to my locker, not that he was preventing me from doing that or anything.

“You’ll see. Come with me.” He walked away, toward the door. My legs, without asking me first, began to follow him. Why was I following him? I didn’t even have my coat, and all I was wearing was a (black) t-shirt and (red) skirt. Still, my goosebumps didn’t seem to be very important to my legs as they just kept following him, no matter how much I protested mentally. Without looking at me, he got into the driver’s seat of a sleek blue car, and I got into the passenger seat.

“Buckle your seatbelt.” Without thinking about it, my arms reached down to put on my buckle. What the heck? I wasn’t going anywhere with him.

“Sorry,” I said, “I was only doing this because you fixed my phone. I’m not going to just ride away with you.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door.

“Don’t leave.” I didn’t care what he said, I opened the door started stepping out. “Wait, no, stay in the car. And be silent,” he said to me. I froze in place, then got back in the car and closed the door. We drove in complete silence to his house, a large brick thing in the center of town. He stepped out, motioning to follow him. My lips were stuck together, but inside I was screaming at myself. Why was I following him! He lead me through the large oak doors to his house, and said “My parents are gone for the week. You can talk, but at a conversational volume.”

Fine. I would talk, then go home. “Why do you want me here?”

“Because I need a maid while my parents are away. And get me a glass of water, would you?” A maid, what the fuck? I opened each door of his kitchen cupboard until I found the one with the glassware, not even bothering to close them, filled him a cup and handed it to him. He was fiddling with the door, but he turned to me and set the cup on the counter. “Now stand on one foot.” My left leg rose into the air. “Haha, you can stop that now.” It fell back down.

I just glared at him. “Come with me into the living room,” he said, gesturing to follow. I walked behind him, aware that something fishy was going on. Why was I standing on one leg? I was reminded of the song I’d listened to earlier for some reason, but I couldn’t remember much about it. I was distracted though, it would probably come back to me.

The living room had a large flat-screen TV on the wall opposite of the entrance. There was a couch facing it, and a little dresser off to the side. “Strip and dust the room,” then he gestured to the little dresser and said “the cleaning stuff is in there.”

You’d need scientific notation to figure out what day that was going to happen. Or, alternatively, you could just say ‘never’. I pulled down my skirt, and stepped out of it. Wait, what? I started unbuttoning my shirt, and I realized that no matter how hard I tried to not unbutton it, it was getting unbuttoned just the same.

I took a step forward to smack Quinn, but my legs took a step in the wrong direction and started walking over to the dresser. I took out the spray bottle and rag and set it on the top with my right hand. My left hand worked out of my button-up shirt and started unclasping my bra, where it was soon joined by my right hand. My shirt and bra fell to the floor at the same time, and my titties were on display for Quinn to see. I covered them up with one hand, and used the other to pull down my panties. After stepping out of those I pulled my socks off with my feet. I tried to keep covering my boobs and pussy, but there wasn’t anything I could do as my hands reached out and grabbed the cleaning supplies off the little dresser. I began spraying various things and wiping them off with the rag, trying my best not to give Quinn too good a view of my ass as he watched in silence. My face burned, and I didn’t dare to let myself speak. I saw that Quinn was digging my phone out of my shirt pocket, and I feebly made some protest as he unlocked it and began swiping around. After the room was clean, I walked over to where he was sitting on the couch.

“Your parents think you’re at a friend’s house.”

That bastard. “You sent a text from my phone!”

He just laughed and said “Don’t resist. You can stop cleaning.” He stood up and reached forward, as if to grab my boob, a grin across his face. After freezing for a moment, I realized that I was fully able to move for some reason, and kicked him in the stomach as hard as I could. I jumped on him (practically shoving my boobs in his face, ironically), clapped one hand over his mouth and grabbed my phone with the other. I unlocked it and tried to start typing a message as fast as I could, but he pushed me off and I landed on the floor. He picked up my phone and dropped it in his pocket.

“Damnit! Freeze. And I can’t believe I forgot that I can’t tell you not to do something.” I was frozen stiff, unable to even adjust my position so my arm wasn’t behind be awkwardly. “Stand up, and be still and silent. I want to establish some rules. First of all, if you try to attack me or hurt me, instead drop whatever you’re holding and put your hands behind your back.” Then, as an afterthought, he added “And call me ‘Master’.“

He walked over to where I was standing, still and silent as a statue, and squeezed one of my boobs. Then the other. He jiggled them around a bit, and seemed to get a kick out of it. He walked around me and pinched my ass. He grabbed my boobs again, pinching the nipples this time, with a wide grin. He slowly ran a finger between my legs, and I realized I was wet. “Wow, you’re enjoying this. I still can’t believe you attacked me. I think you need a little punishment.” He sat down on the couch, pointing towards the TV. “Get on your hands and knees, and face left.” My body reacted, getting on the floor. What was he going to do? He stuck his feet out, and to my surprise, he rested them on my back.

“You know, there’s something that’s just so satisfying about having a naked hot girl be your footrest.” He turned on the TV and played a gross song on the chomecast, a montage of anime girls tripping with the camera placed at a convenient angle to see up their skirts, and somebody was singing “I can see your underwear, from down here!“

Once the video was over he made me jump up and down so he could watch my boobs bounce, and even gave one of my nipples a tentative lick. I tried as hard as I could to cover myself up, to push him away, to get some clothes on besides my panties, but my body was stuck with my hands behind my back and my legs slightly apart. After a few minutes of torment, groping my boobs, pinching my ass, and periodically rubbing a finger up the front of my (embarrassingly wet) panties. Eventually he allowed me to speak “with a conversational volume,” a rather odd phrasing but required because he couldn’t just tell me to not yell, and told me I could move and to follow him upstairs.

As I was walking up the grand stairway behind him I actually tried to punch him in the back of his blond head, but just like he said they would, my hands just opened as if to drop something and set themselves at my back.

“Listen, pet,” he said and I was forced to pay close attention to what he was about to say even though I knew he probably didn’t mean it like that, “I’m going to get on my computer and change the commands I’ve given you. I want to be able to make you not do things.“

So his strange control over me had something to do with his computer. It seemed that once he was able to just tell me “don’t prevent me from doing whatever I want to do with you” I was doomed, barring things like my brother finding out and beating up Quinn or the effects somehow fading away. If I wanted to do anything that would aid my escape later, or even to escape now, I would have to do it soon. And for that, I needed information. “I figured you’d be getting to that soon. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t earlier, Master.” I cringed at calling him “Master,” but I had to say it whenever I addressed him.

We had turned the corner around the staircase, and he was leading me into his room. It was huge, he had what must have been a queen size bed at least, a huge monitor for his computer and an exercise machine next to his wardrobe. Between his bed and desk were a set of weights. “Once I put the new commands onto your phone, you’re going to be mine.” He said it with a smile, not a sinister one, but like he was really exited. He clicked on an icon of an iPod with the earbuds attached in front of a spiral, and it opened a program called “ScottB’s mental reprogram tool.” Interesting name, I would have to look it up later.

He turned to me and said “I don’t want you watching me, go lay on the bed and play with your boobs.” I immediately jumped onto the bed, and began groping, squeezing, pinching, and kneading my boobs. The angle I was laid at didn’t let me see the screen, and I was tempted to use my legs to pull myself forward so I could see what he was doing, but Quinn wasn’t doing much aside from staring at me and I didn’t want to risk his wrath. He seemed to tear his gaze away from me, but I let out a well-timed moan he started staring at me again. Despite all I had gone through that day, I was blushing so hard at having to play with myself for his entertainment.

“Aaarg, you know what, I want to get this done and you keep distracting me so it’d be best if you started dusting again or something.”

Immediately my body jumped up and carried me downstairs. I left with a “Yes, Master,” boobs bouncing as I dashed down the stairs, unable to believe Quinn made such a huge mistake. I rounded the corner, ran into the living room, and got the spray bottle from the dresser. I sprayed the top of the dresser, wiped it off with my arm, and once I had done that I had technically started cleaning, which was all Quinn told me to do. I put on my bra, shirt, and skirt, then ran to the door they came in through. I turned the knob and pulled. The door didn’t budge. I looked more closely at the door, and realized it was one of the really old ones that had a key hole on the inside, and I didn’t have a key. Quinn must have locked it on his way in. Oh, what to do, what to do? I could probably break the glass, but the window was way too small to climb through. Oh, maybe they had a back door I could get out of! I turned around to run out, and saw Quinn standing in front of me, expression grim. My heart dropped. It’s strange how menacing a bespectacled dweeb could be when he had total control over your actions. Actually, on second thought, it’s not strange at all.

“Er, Master, I was just...”

“Trying to escape? I’m glad I caught you in time.” His eyes were narrow. “You’ve been a very bad slave. What punishment do you think you deserve?”

That was easy. “I don’t think I deserve any punishment, Master.”

“Well, take off your clothes and beg for forgiveness.”

I dropped to my knees and pulled off my shirt. As I pulled my skirt and panties to the floor, I said “Please Master, please forgive me, do anything you want to punish me for acting like such a bad slave. I don’t even deserve to look at you, I—”

“That’s enough,” he said, as I let my bra drop off my shoulders. He looked at me with hungry eyes, and said “Follow me, pet.” God, why was I so wet! I followed him into the living room and stood there, using my hands to keep my pussy from view as he sat down on the couch. He giggled, and said “you’re so cute, trying to cover yourself. Come over here, bend over my knee, hands on the floor below you, and stay in that position.”

Oh god. He was going to spank me. “No,” I tried to yell, but it came out in a normal speaking voice. “Please don’t do this to me, Master!” Even as I said it, my body was moving to get into the pose he described, my ass pointing upward and exposed. “I think it’d be best if you counted the spanks I give you,” he said, squeezing my ass. I didn’t trust my voice to say anything, so I just nodded and whimpered. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I could feel his body move and knew he was lifting up his hand.

SMACK! “Ah, ah, one, Master”

God, that hurt. She lay there whimpering, not trusting herself to speak and not wanting to have to call him Master.

SMACK! “Two, Master.” The pain was bad, but the arousal I got from every smack was worse. I could feel a trail of wetness trickling down my leg, and hoped that Quinn wouldn’t notice it. He seemed preoccupied with squeezing my boobs with his other hand, and I hoped I’d have a brief moment of peace.

SMACK! “Th-three, Master!” I knew it was more than the feeling of his hand near my pussy that was making my wet, but the humiliation of being spanked.

“Wow, you really are a slut, aren’t you. This is turning you on!” To my horror, he began to stick the tip of one of his fingers into my slit. I felt a tear run down my nose.

“No, Master, please don’t, stop, please Master, p—”

SMACK! “Four, Master.” He stuck one of his fingers in me again, I barely had time to register it over the pain.

SMACK! “F-f-five, Master.” A tear hit he floor, and I was surprised to see that I was crying. And I was so horny, horny from the pain and the humiliation. From calling him Master. I didn’t want to accept it, but it seemed to be true. He could make me do anything he wanted, and he soon, if he made me listen to another one of his songs, he would be able to make me think anything he wanted. I had to find a way to break free before that happened, or I really would be his slave.

He spanked me 10 more times, and by the time he finished, there were two wet spots on the floor. One from my juices, and one from my tears.

“Now you’re making me feel bad for doing this to you, but I knew you’d keep trying to escape unless you knew the punishment for going against me.” I couldn’t see his face, I was still bent over his leg with my hands on the ground, and my hair down all around my face, but I could feel him stroking my back. “Oh, get up, and come lie with me,” he said, turning down to lie on the large couch. I laid down next to him, and he pulled me close, wrapping his arm around me. His arm was tucked under my boobs, and I could feel his boner though his pants, and try as I might, I couldn’t make my hands stop shaking.

“There, there, it’s going to be all right,” he said, trying to be affectionate.

I hated him.

I would find some way to get my revenge on him for humiliating me like this. I seemed pretty doomed, but there had to be a way. I just had to do it before he put the new and improved version of the song and made me listen to it, and I was lucky he thought he was enough in control not to have done it yet.

“The next time you try to escape, come find me and tell me.”

Damn, that would make things a lot harder. “Yes, Master” I whispered, and then had a thought. “You know, it’s almost 5, and my parents will be wondering where I am.”

He paused. “I’ll drive you home. But some things, if you try to tell anybody about what what you did with me or my power over you, or say anything that would help you escape or implicate me, your mouth will clamp shut before you can say anything.” He pulled me closer to him. “You will attend school tomorrow, and meet me at my locker once school gets out. Understand?”

I swallowed. “Yes, Master.”

He seemed to pause for a moment. “Is there anything you want to ask me?”

I opened my mouth to say something sassy, like “What exactly do you intend to do with me,” or “What happened to make you such a perverted fuck,” but I quickly thought better of it. Instead, I asked the least alarming thing I could think of that still seemed realistic. “Why did you say ‘do what the who fixed your phone says’ instead of ‘do what Quinn says’ in the song?” I kind of surprised myself with the question, but I guess I knew all along that’s why I was obeying him.

He seemed surprised that I asked that. “It works better if you relate them to something that might be on their mind.” I just nodded.

He got up, and motioned for me to follow. I remained rooted to the couch, though, so he said “follow me”. My legs lifted me up and took me along behind him, and I didn’t even bother to cover myself. What was the point, when he could make me strip and give him a lapdance whenever he wanted? All I would accomplish by covering myself was either angering or amusing him, and I didn’t want to do either. I sat on the kitchen chair with my legs spread and eyes closed, at his request, while he got my clothing and my phone.

He decided to keep my panties, and told me that I would wear an even shorter skirt the next day, and nothing underneath. My skirt was already pretty short so it was inevitable that someone would get an eyeful but at this point I didn’t even care, the only thing I was concerned with was finding a way to exact my revenge on Quinn. I got dressed and we got into his car. After I told him where I lived and he pulled up at the curb, I unbuckled and started to jump out of the car without saying another word, but before I got completely out he said “freeze”, and so I was awkwardly hanging halfway outside his car. “Tonight, masturbate until you come, and while you do imagine me ordering you around, punishing you when you’re bad, having sex with you, that kind of thing. If you try to investigate how I’m controlling you, watch porn instead.”

“Yes, Master.” I still couldn’t move, and just wanted to get out of there.

“And I want you to act like a huge slut when you’re in school tomorrow. Now go!” I ran inside the house, and he drove away. What was he trying to do with the masturbating thing, something he saw in porn? Masturbating to him wouldn’t magically make me submissive. I guess I should be happy with not having to send him a picture of me in the act or something similarly perverted, although I suspected he’d make me do something like that eventually. And I didn’t even want to think about what my body would make me do in school the next day. To make matters worse, he sent me a text that said Wear a sexy bra or something tomorrow, also.

That night, after masturbating to him dominating me, I decided that I still hated him and found the idea of him controlling my mind and body distinctly undesirable. Sexy, sure, but I was not about to give myself to him. I fell asleep to thoughts of Quinn, what I would do to him, and what I hoped he wouldn’t do to me.

The next morning I was hoping that Quinn’s control would have worn off somehow, but no such luck. My body made me put on a a very short pink skirt that couldn’t have been more than 10 inches long and a skimpy black lacy bra. I needed an edge to get free of his control. I decided on sneakily taking my brother Nathan’s phone from his backpack (he can’t have it in his pocket since he’s still in middle school) and hiding it in my bra, because I thought it might come in useful to have a second phone Quinn wouldn’t know about. My backpack was still in my locker which meant I didn’t have any of my homework done, but that seemed small in comparison to what else my controller was making me do. After putting on my favorite long-sleeved white blouse, I decided I looked presentable and not too trashy. If anyone asked I could just say the skirt was for an empowerment movement or something.

I got on the bus and rode to school, careful for whatever might incite the “huge slut” thing I would have to do today. A couple people “accidentally” brushed up against my butt as I was getting off, but I suppose that was to be expected and if that’s as far as things went then I would be grateful. I walked inside the school and went to my locker so I could get the homework I hadn’t done yesterday (hopefully I would be able to do it during lunch and other classes). Kind of silly to be worried about things like that with the matter at hand, but I really didn’t want to have my grades suffer because of him.

My stuff was in my binder, on top of my backpack. At the bottom of my locker. I bent over to pick it up. At the hips. I felt a draft, and a chorus of shouts from behind me.

“Dude, look over there!” “Oooh, Adria,” “Niiice, man,” “Holy shit!” in masculine voices, and a few seconds later I heard a girl say “I can’t believe she shaves!”

I wish I could say I stood bolt upright, but unfortunately, I couldn’t. The best I could do was to pick up my things and slowly stand up, listening to them leer at my ass because that’s what a huge slut would do. I was blushing something awful, but I just tried to ignore them and speedwalk to my first hour. I’m sure that I’d be hearing more of this later. This little pink skirt was so short it just barely covered up my ass, I would have to be careful.

My first hour classroom was arranged with half the desks on one side of the room, and the other half on the other side of the room, facing each other. I sat down in my desk, and waited for the class to fill in, since I was slightly early. I got out some of my homework to try to work on it, but I couldn’t focus. I was two busy imagining horrible things to do to Quinn once I finally broke free from his control. I felt my brother’s phone inside my bra, happy that he only had a little thing with a mechanical keyboard, and it was easily hidden.

Class had started, and was surprisingly entertaining, although not everyone was paying attention. Specifically, the guy who sat opposite to me. It didn’t take me long to follow his gaze. This was the point I realized that I was sitting with my legs wide apart. Of course, trying to close them did no good, and I was forced to open them wider, and pull my skirt up so he could get a better view.

Oh my god, I had never done anything like this before. Being spanked by Quinn was one thing, but here I was giving half of my class a view of my pussy! I could feel my face grow hot, as I watched the “I can’t believe this is happening” look on his face.

I was considering finding where the school kept the gardening tools, finding a spade, and decapitating Quinn next time I saw him. Of course, if I tried to harm him I would just put my hands behind my back and drop whatever I was going to use, so that wouldn’t work. But a girl can dream, can’t she? I knew that if him just saying to become a slut could make me act like a slut, then him just saying for me to become his slave could make me act like his slave. And Quinn was smart, I was certain that he had already thought of that and would do it soon, and the only reason he hadn’t yet is because he liked toying with me and couldn’t see anything I could do to escape. At this point, I couldn’t either.

The kid in front of me was a little bit chubby but not too bad, brown hair and acne. Oh yeah, and a giant grin on his face. Apparently giving a guy 50 minutes to stare at my slit wasn’t quite slutty enough to qualify as being a “huge slut,” and my body began moving my hands again. I didn’t think the teacher would see anything, and everyone except for the kid opposite me seemed to be paying rapt attention to him. So I moved my hand down, and while trying as hard as I could to not do it, I stuck two fingers in my pussy. Pulled them back out, then back in, then back out, then set my hand on my lap, all the while looking at my paper and writing with my other hand. I was basically giving the kid opposite me a free sex show, and I didn’t even know his name! I glanced at him, and he had a boner that was very visible to his pants. Seeing that I had made a guy hard like that, and how much of an exhibitionist I was being was making my pussy drip, just like any huge slut. He opened his eyes wide, patted his friend on the shoulder and pointed at me, and the girl to his left had noticed too but was looking away in disgust. I was breathing deeply, and it was all I could do to keep from moaning.

A few minutes, later, the bell rang, and class was dismissed. I tried to get up and be on my way, wanting to keep as much of my dignity as possible, but that kid who saw me first caught my arm before I left and said I should follow him. Following him seemed like the slutty thing to do so that’s what I did. He led me into the boy’s bathroom, and I knew exactly what he wanted.

“I never knew you were the type to do that, Adri.”

“Oh, I try to put on a good show. You saw a lot, didn’t you?”

“Oh yes, but there’s a little more I’d like to see.” He pulled me into the bathroom stall, and I walked with him. He seemed to have no idea what he was supposed to do now that he was finally in the bathroom stall with a girl, but the slut in me wasn’t about to let him linger. I grabbed his hand, placed it on one of my boobs, and squeezed it through his hand. He got the message, and started playing with them, squeezing them with both hands. I let out a moan. He started to pull up my blouse, and I helped him take it off (putting my phone on the floor), and he started to pull off my bra.

“Wait,” he said, stopping. I tried to look disappointed that he wasn’t groping me. “There’s something I want to do.” He turned me around, picked my blouse up off the bathroom floor (ew), brought my arms up and behind my back, lay the blouse over them and tied the sleeves together, restraining my arms. I pulled against it lightly to see if I could get free, but the way my arms were pointing upwards and with my elbows at my sides hard to get leverage and I didn’t want to pull too hard anyway because I didn’t want to rip my shirt. Also, the huge slut part of me didn’t want to spoil the fun for the kid whose name I didn’t even know.

The bell to start second hour rang. There goes my perfect attendance.

Now, I’m not going to say that having my arms tied wasn’t a little bit hot. It was. But that doesn’t mean I wanted to do it with this seedy kid! I noticed the way my arms were positioned made my breasts lift up, and my body suddenly decided to spin around and strike a pose for him. I arched my back, gave a little smile, and leaned over by his ear is a way I knew would give him a good view of my tits.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re hot,” he said, and he reached up and grabbed my left boob, hard. It hurt, and I winced involuntarily. He stepped back (almost bumping into the toilet), surprised, afraid I would be mad at him. Which I was, that hurt a lot. But my body had other ideas.

“I like it rough,” I said, and wiggled in what I hoped would be an inviting way. He started fondling me again, more lightly this time, occasionally pinching my nipples. Doing this in a bathroom stall, with my hands tied behind my back was making a line of wetness run down my thigh. Inside I was horrified that I was letting some guy molest me, moaning words of encouragement at him, and it was making me horny.

Suddenly, I found myself saying “Mmh, hey, mm, you should OH—” as he pinched my nipples, “you should, pull down my skirt.” He made eye contact, smiled, and bent down. He grabbed the loose edges at the bottom and pulled down, leaving it around my ankles. He proceeded to inspect my slit, and I suspected it was the first time he’d ever seen one. After giving it an experimental poke, he started sticking his finger in, just a little bit. After I let out an encouraging moan, he stuck it in farther, and proceeded to finger fuck me. I pushed back into the wall, yelling for him to go faster, knowing that I really didn’t want anyone to hear but shouting it would be the slutty thing to do. After what seemed to be an eternity, he undid his belt and took his dick out. As if my body was on remote control, I got down on my knees and wrapped my lips around his head. I could taste his precum. I bobbed my head up and down, trying to wrap my tongue around it as well as possible, licking it up and down. It was kind of hard with my hands tied, but I managed. He grabbed my hair and pulled me up and down, and I tried to make eye contact with him. After a few minutes I could hear a shift in the sound he was making, and knew he was going to come. But, like a good little slut I just bobbed faster.

I knew exactly when it was going to happen, dreading every second of it. 3, lick lick. 2, lick, lick. 1, lick, lick. A surprisingly large about of cum came from his dick, and even though I knew it was going to happen it still surprised me. It wasn’t that much, although it felt like a lot in my mouth, and of course I swallowed it all. A couple drops escaped, and my body immediately set out to licking the drops that landed on him as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

Only when I was done licking them off him did I notice that a couple got on the floor. Slowly, my head started to drift downwards and my tongue started to come out. No, no, please don’t make me do this! I was moving so slowly, drawing the movement out, going to lick the floor of the bathroom stall just to get this guy’s cum.

No. My head moved closer to the floor.

No. The floor was surprisingly clean, like it had been mopped recently.

Please don’t make me do this.

My mouth was so very close to the floor now, my tongue outstretched, ready to lick up the tiny drop of cum on the floor.

“What the hell are you doing!” My head bolted upright. The kid was staring at me incredulously. “Were you really going to lick it off the floor?“

“Sorry, it just tastes so good!” He grinned at this, and told me to get up. He pulled me in, and kissed me. He used his tongue excessively, but overall it wasn’t a bad kiss. and of course I grabbed him and pulled him against me, making sure he could feel my hard nipples. He gave my tits a final squeeze, and left the bathroom. I got my arms untied from my shirt, got my clothes back on, cleaned myself up, tucked my phone back into my bra and left. 3rd hour was about to start.

As I was leaving the bathroom, I saw a group of my friends walking past. I tried to hide my face and not attract attention, but I was sure Ashley saw me. This was so embarrassing, but it might be my new life if I didn’t escape Quinn soon. I couldn’t believe that bastard for making me act like a slut in front of the whole school. But how could I escape?

When I was walking to third hour, someone dropped their pencil. As fast as I could, I jumped forward and picked it up for him, by bending at the hips, right in front of them. He patted my ass as he walked away, and I wanted to scream about how apparently anyone could enjoy my body and touch me anywhere they wanted, and I desperately hoped nobody would ask to.

Sometimes a hand would flip up my skirt, not that there was much to flip up, and I always spun to keep my skirt from falling down too quickly and to give them a view from all sides.

While walking to lunch Once someone “accidentally” bumped his crotch up behind me, and I started grinding up against him, until he went a separate way. I never even saw his face.

At lunch, I ate a pickle and a banana. I licked the pickle up and down before I ate it, slowly, and I wrapped my lips around the banana before eating a bite.

In math class Quinn was absent, so I didn’t have to deal with him then, but I couldn’t close my legs the entire day (although I didn’t give anyone quite the peep show I gave them in first hour).

But of course, I had to stop by Quinn’s locker at the end of school (I brought my backpack this time, though). He didn’t care about the fact that I had basketball practice today, he wanted to get his slavegirl fix.

“So, err, how was your day?” he asked, when I got inside his car. Luckily I didn’t have to answer that. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”

Crap. “A bit cold walking to school, Master.”

“Cold? It wasn’t that cold?” He wasn’t driving to his house, for some reason.

“Well, Master, in case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t got a lot of leg coverage.“

“Oh. Right. How’d that go?”

“I’d rather not do it again. Let’s just say a lot of people got a good look.”

“Oh.” He said it with a grin. “Also, I want to find out a bit more about you. What fetishes do you have?”

The words spilled out of my mouth like an avalanche. “Doing it in the shower, doing it with my hands tied to the bed or blindfolded, doing it in the front and the back at once, having a bunch of guys do me one after each other, getting kidnapped, getting stripped in public—”

“That’s enough for now.” Gah! I can’t believe I said all that! My face felt hot, and to my furthered embarrassment I was a little wet. I didn’t even know I had all those fetishes. I shrunk back in my chair. Getting spanked was humiliating, but telling him I was into bukkake was way worse. And where were we going? We stopped at someone’s house who I didn’t recognize. “I want you to agree to everything I say, act as if you’re happy to be there and think everything I say is a great idea, act like you’re in love with me and I don’t have any special control over you, and just generally play along. Oh, and while we’re there, don’t call me ‘Master’“

“Got it. And, could I ask—”

“Oh, don’t speak unless it’s necessary.” My mouth clamped shut. What an ass.

We walked inside the house, and knocked on the door. A guy in his 20s with long brown hair and in need of a shave answered the door. “Oh hey, it’s Quinn! Is this your girlfriend?”

“Yep, it is. Do you have the stuff ready?”

“Yep, come over here,” he said, leading us through the kitchen and into a small room with a couch next to two chairs. “So, what exactly was she getting again?”

“Nipple piercings, and a tattoo on her ass reading ‘fuck toy.’ Just the outline.” What!? He looked at me for confirmation, but I just smiled and nodded my head instead of punching Quinn in the face.

“Heh heh, you two are pretty raunchy, ain’t you?”

“Haha, yeah. Let’s do the piercings first.” I was sat down on a chair and Quinn took my shirt and bra off. It felt weird having my tits out in front of this guy and not having him stare or anything, but he seemed very professional. Of course, I was about to get a freaking nipple piercing, and that’s when I decided death would be too merciful for Quinn. The guy got an ice cube and told me to press it against my left nipple for 10 seconds in order to get it hard. I did with a smile, but I was screaming on the inside for my body to do literally anything else.

The procedure involved one or two seconds of pain, but was surprisingly easy. I winced, it hurt a lot, but once they were in they weren’t too bad at all. Pain wise, at least. They were still freaking nipple piercings. How the hell was I going to explain this to my parents? We did the same thing for the other nipple, and it was over. It had been relatively easy to stash my brother’s phone in my waistband when Quinn wasn’t looking.

“Okay, on to the tattoo,” Quinn said.

“Are you sure you want to get it, little lady? They’re permanent.”

I tried to say “No I most certainly do not I’m not even old enough” but instead I giggled and said “I’m positive.” I was giving him what I knew was a good view up my skirt but, aside from a stolen glance at the beginning, he was professional about it. He had me get on my knees on the chair, and turn around so I was facing the back. He asked me to pull his skirt down, which I obediently did. Quinn left the room, as needles made him queasy, and I put the phone back in my bra. He made a show of changing the needles on the tattoo gun, adjusted the light at my ass and went to work. It was less painful than the piercings, but it was a continuous pain, so it was worse in a way. He was finished quickly, just making the outline of the words. He walked me over to a series of mirrors to where I could see the words (backwards in the mirror) written in bright red ink, in a flowing script.

I pulled my skirt up, and Quinn and I left the house. We rode in silence for a time.

“Does your ass hurt?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Call me Master. What do you think?”

“I think I have no idea how I’m going to explain it to my parents, or anyone else now that I think of it. I won’t even be able to wear a bikini without it being visible, Master.”

“I know, that’s part of the fun.”

“I’m also worried I caught some kind of disease or something, Master.”

“No, Clark knows what he’s doing. He’s the go-to guy for this kind of stuff.”

The pain from the tattoo was getting better. I remembered something I read a long time ago, that you hadn’t actually thought about a problem until you closed your eyes and thought about it for five minutes, by the clock. I couldn’t close my eyes without looking suspicious, but I had realized that I had spent too much time fantasizing about throwing acid on his face to make him into a batman villain and not enough actually trying to solve the problem. Then again, it seemed pretty unsolvable. If I tried to attack him I’d drop what I was holding and putting my hands behind my back, and if I tried to escape I’d find him and tell him about it. There didn’t seem to be many ways to get around those restrictions.

He pulled up at his house, and we walked inside. I set my backpack on the kitchen counter, and he grabbed my phone out of it. He motioned for me to follow him upstairs, and my legs obediently followed. Once we got into his room, he told me to cover my eyes, and to start doing a striptease when the music started. Oh gawd.

A few moments later, I heard a guitar playing and the words “Kelly won’t kiss my friend Cassandra, Jessica won’t play ball.” The music continued, and Quinn just grinned.

I started to pull off my skirt slowly, but left it just a tiny bit down, then ran my fingers up my sides, pulling up my blouse, and running one hand through my hair. I started undoing the buttons of my top one at a time. I reached inside and did what I hope would look like sexily squeezing by titties, but I was actually grabbing my phone out of my bra. I hid it in the waistband of my skirt, and pulled off my bra. I rubbed my hands over my stomach and across my boobs. I started alternating playing with my bra and inching down my skirt, toying with them. I started pulling off my bra, inching it downwards, until I used one hand to undo the strap and used the other to keep my self covered. Moving left and right to the music, I played with my boobs through the bra and eventually let it fall. I started playing with my tits (and their new piercing)with my right hand and working my skirt down with the other. I grabbed my phone from my skirt waistband and pulled it down to just above my knees, exposing my cunt and ass to the cooler air of the room. I twirled around, keeping the phone hidden from his view, pressed my legs together and bent over a little bit, presenting my ass and new tattoo to him. I shook it a little, bent at the waist to pull my skirt down the rest of the way, and tucked the phone inside (my legs were still together so he just saw what looked like me touching my toes). I shook my ass a little bit, stepped out of the skirt and spun around again to face him.

Okay, so I’m not very good at stripteases. But Quinn seemed to enjoy it, so it can’t have been all bad.

“Don’t move, I want to look at you.” I stood there, motionless, as he looked me up and down. He got up to grab my boobs, and I instinctively stepped back. He yelled “Freeze!” and I realized in mid stride that I couldn’t move a muscle. I toppled over like a mannequin, and landed on my side. Ouch.

“Get up and lay on the bed!” he barked. And then more softly, “and stay there.”

I got up and nudged my skirt toward the bed as I was walking, hoping to make it look unintentional. It bounced up against his set of weights, which I noticed this time had a little bit of dust on them. He clearly wasn’t that active. I lay down on the bed, and he got down behind me. He reached up and toyed with my piercings a little. They were still a little tender but it wasn’t too bad. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I had nipple piercings. They kept my nipples hard, and much more sensitive. He squeezed my boobs, and started rubbing my clit. It got me wet, of course, and I tried my best not to moan.

He paused for a moment, and said “That’s it. I’ve had enough trying to phrase things in ways that don’t involve the word ‘don’t’. I’m going to make the updated songs.”

Crap. This is bad. Once he does this, I’ll be his slave, forever. But there was still a chance for me to escape. He got off my side of the bed, I started to protest, but with a slap on my ass he told me to be silent. He got on his computer, typed his password, and started clicking. I wriggled downwards on the bed to get a look at what he was doing. There were many text boxes, graphs that changed when he moved a slider, and lists of items with check marks next to them. He plugged my phone in, and seemed focused on what he was doing. As he was fiddling with the program, and I reached over the bed as silently as possible and took my brother’s phone out of my backpack. I started texting my friend Ashley, the one who had seen me in the hallway. It’s adri, quinn from my math class is making me do things with a weird song file, you have to help me and do not trust him, but before I got halfway through Quinn started saying while turning towards me “You know, while you’re waiting, just rub y- GIVE ME THAT PHONE!”

Crap. I handed it to him, and started rubbing my clit with my other hand. “No, stop rubbing.” He looked angry. Cold. I was only going to ask her to come over, which didn’t technically count as escaping so I didn’t have to tell him. Obviously that wouldn’t matter to him.

“Get on your hands and knees, slave. And make sure I enjoy this.” I flipped over, got on my hands and knees, and arched my back downwards. I was staring at his wall, which wasn’t very sexy, but I had no doubts about what was coming next. “Are you on the pill?”

“Y-yes, Master,” I whimpered.

I heard his belt unbuckle, him step out of his pants, and moments later I felt his prick pressing on my pussy.

No. No. Not like this.

He pushed it inside, and I was surprised at how large it was. Not that I had any frame of reference, since the only dick I’d seen in real life was the one earlier today. He pushed in slowly, and my fingers pulled in on his bedsheets. I let out a moan.

He thrust in and out, and in order to make sure he enjoyed it I did the motions with him. I made sex sounds, and shouted words of encouragement, trying to make him feel like a porn star. And, to be honest, I kind of liked the sensation of being filled, I just wish it wasn’t with Quinn. After a few minutes of this, I heard his moans and grunts change, and I could tell he was about to come. Right as he did, he shouted “COME NOW!”

The orgasm built up inside me, getting stronger and stronger over the course of a couple seconds until I absolutely needed it, like it was all I needed in the world, and then it came. I pulled out of him and flipped over, laying down on my back.

“Wait, don’t move. I want to do this in case I somehow lose control over you.” He took out his phone, pointed it at me, and I heard the shutter sound of a photo being taken. “Now cup your breasts and smile.” I did so, and he took another. I could feel his cum inside of my vagina, and I know he was getting it in his photos. He took a couple close-ups of my face, tits, and had me lift my legs up so he could get my ass tattoo. Great, more problems to solve. If those ever got out it would be the most embarrassing thing in the history of ever. I heard him put his pants back up, but I still couldn’t move.

He sniffed the air a few times, and said “It smells of sex in here. Try to clean it up. I know we’re the only two people in the house but I don’t want to smell it all day,” as he began walking to the door (taking my clothes with him). He took my brother’s phone and left mine plugged in to his computer. I opened my eyes and glanced at his computer. It was still on, he had just turned the monitor off. Without looking back, he said “And if you try to mess with anything on my computer, spank yourself and come tell me how it felt instead.”

There goes that plan. He left the room, after mentioning where he kept his sheets (which he apparently wanted me to change). After changing his sheets, always aware of the cum that was leaking out of my cunt, I made an attempt to get the smell of sex out of the room by breathing really hard. It doesn’t matter what I do as long as I try, right?

I took the rick of turning on his monitor and looking at what it said, although I didn’t dare touch his mouse or keyboard. There was a small window that had the words “You will obey the other person currently in the house,” and a loading bar that was at 76% and had the words “encoding” above it. At the top, it said “ScottB’s mental reprogram tool”

Once it finished, I unplugged it (it was technically not messing with something on his computer). I fiddled with it, trying to make a call, but I wasn’t connected to his wifi and he must have taken out my SIM card because I had no service. Then I had an idea.

I took a pair of headphones he had at the side, plugged them into the phone, and started downstairs. I went to the kitchen, holding my hands with the headphones and phone behind my back in what I hoped would be a submissive position if could could only see the front. I found him in the kitchen, reading on his tablet. Without looking back, he said “Here to tell me about your spanking?”

I had to tell the truth, but that didn’t exactly mean I had to be truthful. I had to answer that. “No.” He started to turn around, confused, but I had my finger over the button to play the song, and I pressed it. I jumped forward, and tried to shove the headphones onto his head without harming him in anyway.

He easily shoved me back, but I did get the headphones to barely cover his left ear, the other half on the side of his head. He reached up to turn it off, a nasty look on his face, the phone laying on the floor, but right as he was about to he froze. His hand was just inches away from the headset. I got off my feet, still buck naked, and adjusted the headphones on his head to be sure they wouldn’t fall off.

As soon as I saw the song ended, I said “Be silent,” very loudly. I was half sure it wouldn’t work, and he would make me fuck the whole school for revenge. What if those dials and settings he was messing with had something important in them that would make it not work on him?

But he looked up at me, rage in his eyes. He opened and closed his mouth once. No sound escaped.

Checkmate, I win!

He jumped up and clapped his hand over my mouth. I tried to shout out, but he was too quick, and even when I said “Stop!” it was too muffled to be understandable. Instinctively I tried to kick him, but all that happened was I opened my palms and put my hands behind my back. He wrestled me to the floor, not that it was hard since he had at least 30 pound on me and he had pinned my hands behind my back. He strained to speak, and I pushed off the ground with my hands and jerked my head to the side. I didn’t have to beat him, just get his hand off my mouth for a second. And, for a brief moment, it did. I shouted for him to stop, and he froze like a statue. I got him off me, and decided to give him a few instructions. “Follow me, don’t try to attack me, and keep your hands behind your back. Speak if and only if I ask a question, and tell me only the answer. And, just for good measure, take off your clothes.”

I admit, it was fun watching him strip while desperately trying to make his hands stay still. When his clothes were a little pile on the floor, I decided to give him a little verbal teasing about the fact that his cock was hard, like what he did to me when I was getting wet.

“So, you’re hard. I bet you like seeing my freshly pierced titties, too bad you can’t touch them.” He just looked away, his lips tight together. “Oh, it’d be best if you got a good long look now, because it might be the last you ever see them.” His head jerked around, and became fixated on my boobs. Whoopsie, didn’t intend for that to be a command. Oh well, I enjoyed bossing him around like he did to me. I stepped closer, with my pussy right next to his face. “That cum right there is yours, you know. That’s going to be leaking out of me for hours” He was pulling his head back, away from my hole. I started walking upstairs, grabbing my phone, and he obediently followed me, hands behind his back, a couple feet away. I knew he was staring at my freshly tattooed ass, but I didn’t mind now. I was in control, and it’s payback time.

I went into his room and motioned for him to sit in the chair, while I sat on the bed. I had my phone on the ground next to his set of weights, and I kept my legs spread, just because I liked to tease him with what he couldn’t have. “So, how can I deprogram myself of your control?”

“You can’t use that, you have to use the deprogramming tool from ScottB’s website.”

“Do I have any other options?”

He grinned. “You could do that, or you could do what I think would be best and keepyourmouthshutandcontinuouslypinchyournipples” My mouth clamped shut like a vice. Neither of us could speak or hurt each other. He had to keep his hands behind his back, and I had to keep pinching my nipples. With the new piercings, they were really sensitive, and the pain felt so good. He just grinned at me.

Wait. He said I had to pinch my nipples (plural) continuously, but he didn’t say I had to use both hands. I tried to use one hand to pinch both nipples, one after the other in quick succession, and it worked, although I found that I had to do it fast enough so neither of them ever stopped hurting.

He got up and ran for the door, apparently realizing that while I said to follow I didn’t say not to run away, and quickly I devised a plan. I threw the phone on the bed, grabbed the twenty pound weight from his weight set using my free hand and chased after him. I’m sure it would have looked hilarious for someone who didn’t know the situation. A naked girl pinching her nipples and carrying a weight chasing a naked boy with his hands behind his back. I caught up to him quickly, with my long legs and because he couldn’t really run with his hands like that. As soon as I got close enough to him so he could see me I turned around, and the “follow me” command kicked in. He turned and went after me, going into his bedroom, and I shut the door behind him. We stared at each other for a moment, when I ran at him, I wrapped the arm carrying the weight around him before he could get away, being careful not to hurt him, turned him around and pushed him onto the bed. It was easy, because he had to follow me, and that’s were I was moving. In order to do it I had to go down on the bed on top of him as my arm was wrapped around him, and we got very close together. My tits weren’t touching him because I had to keep pinching them, which was (literally) a pain, but there was another matter. His cock was was pointing straight forward, and I didn’t have a free hand to adjust it with, so I did what I had to do. In order for my plan to work I had to have something to lean against on the bed, and I couldn’t do that with his dick pointing up at me. I adjusted my body, positioning my vagina right above his cock, and went down, sliding it in. “Oh!” It felt so good to have a dick in me, filling my cunt, especially when I was doing it willingly.

Once he was most of the way in, it was time to continue with my plan. Now that he couldn’t move I took my hand with the weight out from behind his back, grabbed the phone from his bed with that hand (no small feat), and turned it on by pressing the power button against my forehead. I held it up above his head. I could see the confusion registering on his face. He was wondering why I could be holding the phone and the weight above his head, in such an awkward position with both of us partially on the bed and entangled.

Then I could see the realization in his eyes.

He’d said that if I tried to harm him, I’d drop what I was holding and put my hands behind my back. I was holding a twenty pound weight a couple feet above his face.

If I dropped it, he probably wouldn’t die, but I’d definitely break something important.

It was difficult to focus on the task at hand with him in me, and my whole body telling me that I should be fucking him right now instead of just laying on him and pinching my nips, but with two minutes of great concentration I wrote on the phone’s note app “Sayy wat u need to in order to let me speak and no more.” It was typoed to all hell because I was trying to type with a weight in my hand, but I got it done and I hoped it would work. I pointed the phone at him, and he said “You can speak.”

“Stay where you are, and don’t move.” I started to slide off of him, but the stimulation of having me on top of him like that must have been really powerful (it was or me, at least) because he came again. Great. It was dripping out of my pussy, but I didn’t care at this point. I had bigger fish to fry.

I made him let me not pinch my nipples, and had him walk me through downloading the deprogrammer. After I put on the headphones and fired up the program, I pressed start and my body froze, one again. Pretty shapes and colors drifted across my vision, and I felt warm even though I was buck naked. After about a minute of pleasantly sitting there the program finished and I got up. I could tell I was free of his control, and just to prove it I flicked his ear.

I told him he could talk but not to tell anybody about what had happened, about the control he had over me or the control I currently had over him, to never mention the program he used to anyone, and that he didn’t have to follow me but he still couldn’t attack me. I had him take me home after we both got dressed, and I was happy that I had won, against the odds.

Two days later I saw a link on facebook to a site where he with the pictures he’d taken of me. Well, shit.