Fucing My Mind

Author's Note.

This is a story about control. Control and manipulation. Control, manipulation, dominance, submission and most importantly it is about relationships. It is also about contrasts and differences in the roles we adopt dependent upon who we are with. Having said that it is not really about BDSM or pain or tying up or spanking or blindfolds or butt plugs or gags. It is more about a man taking control of a woman through his personality and of her welcoming that control and direction.

I am not sure that there is a Literotica category that is really suitable. Yes, of course Mind Control is a consideration, but then so is BDSM and Chain Stories. I guess I will switch around as I publish each part.

At the heart of the story is Guy Bresterton, a university professor and Christina a highly successful investment banker. Her bank sponsors a digital library at Cambridge University and that is how they meet. She is in her late thirties, is divorced and has a very demanding and powerful job where she manages a team of over 150, mainly men. Not believing in marriage or monogamy, Guy is single.

Christina has little time to build relationships of any depth or length and consequently she leads a largely disappointing sex life. Although not in favour of one-night stands, she buys sex. She has a network of escort agencies in the cities she visits most frequently and anonymously they provide her with the men she needs to satisfy her. She has no difficulty at all in intellectualising and reconciling the differences between her beliefs and behaviour

Guy is a sexual adventurer. He is a non-conformist with strong and creative beliefs. He is also an exceedingly bright and intelligent man and that is one of Christina's fetishes: she is far more interested in what a lover has between his ears than between his legs.

The story is quite long so I have broken it down into several parts, each of which should stand alone as a meaningful story. Obviously it would be preferable if the parts were read in a chronological order, but that is up to the reader.

There are two other points of relevance at this stage.

Firstly, Guy fucks Christina the afternoon they meet.

And secondly, I am Christina.

*

I was becoming used to Guy, well in some ways. I was starting to understand how he worked. Nobody got close to him, especially women and, so it seemed, particularly me. Emotionally that is for I certainly was becoming and had been several times now, very close to him physically. I mean can you be closer to a man than have him give you an orgasm when you are fully dressed, simply by turning you round, bending you over and licking your bum hole until you cum? But after that and after other similar instances, him cumming in my mouth and then us kissing and exchanging the cum I hadn't swallowed, for instance. He turned off as if we hardly knew each other. It was as if the physical closeness exhausted him and stopped him being the same emotionally. He never used pet names, babe, luv, darling or honey, he never made any reference to love or affection. Yes, he used compliments but they were always about the physical aspects of the relationship; my body, my tits, my arse and my cunt, yes that's how he always referred to it, he didn't believe in such vanilla terms as pussy, fanny, penis or making love. It was always fucked or shagged, his cock and what he was going to do to me. He didn't mention the future, he never talked about where our relationship might go or what he hoped for. He just didn't open up or let me get emotionally close to him.

But then he didn't believe in love, just as he didn't agree with monogamy, being faithful to another person and being heterosexual; to him everyone was bisexual and that together with polygamy were man's natural states.

He was by an enormous margin, the most intelligent man I had ever met. And I adore intelligence, it does something to me, it turns me on. From the first time I had met him he had aroused me, and he kept me like that every moment I was with him. Between making a date and seeing him, which was usually a very short time, and when travelling to meet him, I was like a bitch in heat.

Although I invited him to my Dockland's apartment, he would never come. We only ever met at his rooms in Cambridge or at his farm a few miles away. I think that was because he would be outside his comfort zone in my home and might not be able to control everything as he could at his places. And I had learned, control was everything to Guy.

He used that. That was his way. He knew the effect he had on me, perhaps that's why he chose me? And he knew what he could do to me. Not sexually, for he would have assumed from the outset with me and with any other woman he selected to have sex with he would do as he wanted, but emotionally. He saw something in me that made him know that he could control me, that he could direct and dominate me, that I would be subservient to him and that I would do as he wished. I had a feeling, though we never discussed it, that because I was the banker, the sponsor of their library, the big wheel behind it, the big boss as he called me and the money for the college he needed to show that he was really more powerful than me. And so far I had, willingly and eagerly gone along with him on that, but still did not understand why.

Before Guy, I had only had two 'one night stands,' not that either lasted the night. One was when I was a teenager in Ibiza with a gorgeous Swedish boy and the other was just after I separated, which was with a guy of my age I met at a party, who had just got divorced. Both were rather silly and came about because of sexual need and opportunity. That was not the case with him. I let Guy fuck me the day we met because of two reasons. One I wanted him to and two he totally seduced me.

On each occasion I suffered guilt afterwards, surprisingly more with the two straightforward earlier shags than the session with Guy, despite that being more intense and, in many ways more concerning. I did things on my first 'date' with him that I had not done with any other man until I had known them for some time and, even now, I am surprised I did them. I was surprised that I undid the halter neck of my dress and standing before him, got my breasts out and caressed myself as he sat naked, smoking a cigar watching and directing me. I was surprised that I didn't object, but instead enjoyed him sucking my breasts so hard that he left red marks, surprised that I enjoyed the pain of his fingernails sinking into the flesh of my bum and surprised that I didn't pull away when he pinched and pulled my nipples harder than they had been pulled before. I was surprised that I didn't try to stop him fucking me for the best part of an hour as he gave me orgasm after orgasm while he did very little. I was also very surprised that when he phoned me as I drove home down the M11 I followed his instructions. They were to pull off the motorway, find a quiet spot, park, undo the halter neck of my dress, roll the skirt up and masturbate.

I wasn't so surprised on our second liaison, as I now thought of them, and not dates, when he bathed me, massaged me on a bed on his outdoors, rooftop balcony and then made love, or it felt like love, several times during the afternoon, night and next morning.

I knew I was under his control, but it took me time to understand why. It was my fascination for this unpredictable, brilliant, arrogant, self-deprecating, humorous, sexually adventurous, ambitious and creative, free thinking man. I wasn't in love, I was fascinated by him. And in its way, that was far more powerful than the love I had experienced in the past.

I was fascinated by his confidence in: stripping off completely whilst I was still dressed, assuming, no knowing, I would do as he said, expressing his views on bisexuality, polygamy, love and marriage, seemingly having strict control over his erection; not for him letting a mere woman make him hard, he chose when that would happen as it, or so it seemed he did with ejaculating! It wasn't just those sort of things either. He was an immensely attractive man. In his late forties, he had long hair that had a wave that continuously flopped down his forehead and piercing blue eyes. He had a way of looking at people that was almost hypnotic, his gaze was so intense. He was slim, had a hairy chest, a good body, a sturdy, attractive uncircumcised dick and a great bum. So for me he was intellectually, emotionally, physically and personality attractive and fascinating.

Visiting those rooms again a few weeks later and finding him in bed, naked with Kali had been a surprise and a shock. The surprise was not just due to seeing another woman in bed with him it was who the woman was. Kali was the HR manager for my group and reported to me, she had introduced me to Guy a few weeks ago although she had known him for several months. I had known her for over fifteen years having joined on the same graduate intake programme when we were both in our early twenties. Of even more surprise and shock was that no more than fifteen minutes after entering his bedroom I was also as good as naked, I was in bed and I was touching Kali's breasts as she touched mine. He had turned us on our sides facing each other and had then pushed our faces together until we kissed. It was a momentous moment that was manipulated and manoeuvred by him, but experienced and enjoyed by all of us.

We were all on the bed, he and Kali were naked I was just wearing my panties; a high fronted, white satin thong that was cut acutely at the legs meaning that close attention to one's bikini line was essential. I had recently taken to trimming my tawny thatch into a neat 'landing strip' of pubic hairs, which clearly exposed my lips, so I was fine.

Kali and I knew we were being manipulated by Guy, but we were powerless to do anything about it. The kiss was was soft and gentle at first; we were exploring and experimenting. We savoured the softness, the taste and the smell of each other with our lips and tongues and the smoothness and roundness of the others breasts with our hands. As our lips got used to each other and we as women became accustomed to what we were doing, so the kiss became more intense. Our lips parted, our mouths opened, our tongues explored and we squirmed our faces together. Our hands left the other's breast and went round their body. We cuddled each other and our bodies moved even closer so that our breasts were not being cupped by the other's hands, but were being squashed by the other's breasts.

"Oh yes ladies, yes," we heard Guy say.

I opened my eyes and saw him kneeling behind Kali's shoulder; he was now hard and was stroking himself. I wondered when and how he would join in, for I assumed that was his intention and the main reason he had set this up.

Kali's full, round breasts engulfed my B cup, boobs and I could feel her hard nipples pressing into my soft flesh. It was an intoxicating situation as the kiss intensified, our inhibitions reduced and our ardour increased. Just as Guy had said many times, sex was sex irrespective of the gender mix.

I felt Guy behind me. He reached round me and cupped my breast with one hand and, I noticed with an unexpected surge of excitement, Kali's with his other. He squeezed both breasts and then pushing them together he rubbed the nipples together. He kissed us both and we alternated our kissing of each other by returning his kisses. His hands roamed all over us finding and pressing my clit and, I assumed Kali's as well. It made my body jerk and I grunted with pleasure. I kissed Kali, or was it Guy, even harder. I had hands on me everywhere, my breasts, my bum, between my thighs and on my pussy, but whose were they? Which were Guy's and which were Kali's? It didn't really matter so I stopped wondering and just gave into the sensations and returned the caresses.

Guy got between us. He knelt between our legs by our knees, his now fully hard cock standing up ramrod straight; it looked wonderful and I wanted to hold it, but it was out of my reach.

"Are you enjoying it?" He asked us, as he eased my panties down and off, without asking of course.

We both nodded as our fingers trailed across the others breasts and nipples, his eyes following their path. It really was so amazingly erotic to be touching another woman intimately and have her doing it to me as a man looked on. It was bringing so many things out from me that must have lain fairly dormant all my life. The ones that most surprised me were exhibitionism and voyeurism; I had a little experience of other women, but then Guy had also brought out others previously. I hadn't realised fully just what excitement and pleasure I could derive from being abused and demeaned, from being submissive to a dominant man and from him hurting me and leaving marks on me.

As he was saying. "Now do you believe me about as all being innately bi," I was wondering just what else this fascinating man would do to me, would teach me and bring out in me in the future; that is if he decided we had a future!

"Yes Guy," Kali said kissing my cheek. "I certainly do, I have wanted to do this with Chrissy for such a long time" she said cupping my boob and lifting it up. That rocked me somewhat for I had no idea that my HR Director had any sexual ideas about me. She bobbed her head down and licked my nipple. I have had them licked hundreds of times, but never had a tongue felt like that; it was if I had been given an electric shock.

"Oh God Kali," I groaned grabbing the back of her head and pulling her face against my breast. She kissed me right on my areola and then sucked my engorged nipple into her mouth. It was fantastic. She did that for a few moments, before breaking away, looking me in the eye and arching her back, which made her tits stick out. It was a clear invitation and accepting it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world, so I did accept it. Her nipple felt wonderful in my mouth and against my tongue. She stroked my hair as greedily like a baby I fed on her breasts; it was easy to do, it seemed perfectly normal and it felt so right.

I couldn't help smiling when I thought. 'Is this what human resource specialists are supposed to do, fuck their boss?'

Guy was pulling my shoulder. "Lay back, both of you" he ordered.

Neither of us, even for one moment, thought of disobeying him, despite the pleasure we were getting and giving to each other and we laid back, Kali to my left. We propped our nude bodies up on the pillows of the bed and looked from each other to Guy and back again. He again knelt between our legs and once more took hold of our hands, my left and Kali's right.

"Are you ready?" he asked. I had no idea for what, but like Kali I nodded. He went on "It's time for the next stage." I still had no idea, but I quickly found out when he moved both our hands. This time he didn't move them towards the others breasts, but towards our pubic mounds. He pressed them down and I felt Kali's on my 'landing strip' and mine on her fuller thatch of mousy pubic hairs. I jumped at the combination of the sensations.

"Oh God Chrissy," Kali sighed.

"Yes Kali," I moaned back having no idea what else to say.

We looked at each other. Her eyes were half closed and looked to be misty, from desire or want I imagined. We both wiggled our fingers, we parted our thighs a little and our fingers found the others warm, wetness. It was familiar of course from masturbating, but at the same time so different. We turned on our sides, we kissed, our breasts squashed together and we continued stroking the other's lips and pressing the other's clit. It was absolute magic.

Guy joined in. His hands were all over both naked bodies; on our tits, our nipples, our bums, between our cheeks and joining ours on the others pussy. Now I really had no idea who was doing what to me and where, just as Kali could not have known whose fingers were inside her, whose were on her clit and whose mouth was sucking her tits. But it didn't matter, why should it? After all we are all innately bi aren't we?

*

I didn't hear from Guy for quite some time after having sex with Kali and him; he didn't bother with the niceties of keeping in touch. The only times I heard from him by phone, text or mail was when he wanted me. That was fine by me. I wasn't after any more from him. I was, I admit, fascinated by him, but I didn't want to develop a relationship deeper than what we had, probably because I was frightened. And what we had was a sexual relationship. An intense sexual relationship, an odd one, an extreme one and a hugely experimental and adventurous one, but in the end simply a sexual one. A sexual one where he manipulated me, directed, controlled and dominated me; where he somewhat abused me, demeaned me a little, treated me like his slut, took me way out of my comfort zone, extended my boundaries by miles, taught me, helped me open up and find things out about myself and one where I was his to do with as he pleased. On top of that it was an anonymous relationship. The only common link between us was Kali and she knew none of my current friends and played no part in my life. So Guy was a totally separate compartment of my life that I could open, go into, do as I wished then leave when I wanted, well to be more accurate, when he dismissed me. In that compartment I could be who I wished and act how I wanted and with him that was so different to any way I had behaved with other lovers previously. I readily admit I gave myself totally to him; with Guy there could be no other way, it was his way or no way. And his way was not just dominating me physically, but also mentally and emotionally; yes Guy didn't just fuck my body he fucked my mind as well.

I had never been particularly sexually promiscuous. When single I had generally been faithful to the boy I was dating at the time and when married I had only been unfaithful with one man. Since the split I had been more active, but then adjusting to single life with middle age looming and the social changes that had gone on since I had last been 'in play', was very difficult.

My work had become my life. My career was everything. It totally consumed me and I had time for nothing else. It had ruined my marriage and left me no time for a social, romantic or sex life. For the past year I had bought most of the sex I had experienced; it was quicker, easier, less messy and it left no traces.

I didn't know what I wanted from life other than advancement in my career. I knew I didn't want to live with or become emotionally entangled with a man. So I had for the past couple of years been very careful with my relationships in general and sex in particular. I guess masturbation had become my only hobby, well after golf that is.

This was due in part, I thought, to me not having a particularly high sex drive. Reading in books and papers and talking to girl-friends had hinted to me that my need for sexual gratification was lower than the norm. Nevertheless during my married years I couldn't recall turning him down very often and I certainly wasn't a frequent sufferer from 'bedtime headaches,' in more ways than one, I just went with the flow! Nevertheless, since the split I had sometimes gone weeks and even months without sex, occasionally not even masturbating. When I think along those lines I wonder just who is the more fucked up, Guy or me?

In some ways this made my relationship with Guy even stranger. I mean if a sexually reasonably respectable, forty something year old businesswoman can so easily go without sex, why get mixed up with such a sexual maverick as Guy? There was no answer to that. As equally, there was no answer to why a relatively sexually reserved woman would do the things I had with him, where there was no future for a relationship. Was that perhaps the key? Was it that I didn't need to make a commitment, that I wouldn't get that involved and that Guy wanted nothing more from me than sex? Was it that and a need that he had brought to the surface in me to experiment and test myself, extend my boundaries and satisfy my intellectual curiosity about sex and sexuality. I thought that the answer might lie there somewhere, a little like Belle de Jour really!