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.

*****

Fucking My Mind Part 3

Guy takes me into lesbian and 3 way sex.

*

I was in New York at the monthly global heads of M & A meeting. There were fourteen of us at this level and we met monthly to discuss, prospects, deliver our monthly P and L and balance sheets and form alliances with each other. It was heady stuff and we were a powerful force in the bank. Reputations could be made or ruined on how you performed in this forum. I was tense and nervous and trying hard to impress without being too obvious. I was the only woman in the group.

The email came through around ten in the evening as we had dinner at Sardis. It was from Guy.

After making very tender love in his bed in Cambridge, I had slept and then left the next morning, a Monday. We had spoken during the day and I reminded him that I was going to New York that evening. I had arrived, checked into the Pierre, had a quick shower and then cabbed it to Sardis. I received the mail at ten, which is three in the morning GMT meaning that he had probably composed it in the middle of the night. I excused myself and joined the smokers in the rear courtyard to read it. My body started to tingle as the words crashed into my mind.

Christina

It has been wonderful having sex with you over the past two days and before in CC, I have enjoyed you. You have a luscious body and you know how to project that in a sexually provocative and attractive way, I adore that as much as I am beginning to adore your approach to sex. More than anything I admire your mind and it is that what I will fuck with this mail.

I hope you have enjoyed me as much as I have you, so far.

I realise that being as promiscuous as you have been with me probably does not come naturally to you. It should, you should work at that. Sex is merely a physical experience just as eating, sleeping, bowel and bladder movements, thinking and artistic pursuits are. It is an expression of yourself, not an indication of love. That, as with imposed heterosexualism as we discussed at the meeting, is simply a tactic of the religious establishment to encourage conformity to their teachings and provide them with the power to rule others. Man is a creature of sexual need and it should be used as one's emotions suggest, not as others dictate. Monogamy is a crime against us, polygamy is man's natural condition.

We should all seek sexual liberation. It should be our choice, without being made to feel guilty, to fuck or be fucked by anyone we choose, when, where and how we choose. It is our unalienable right and we need to enforce that.

That is how I live my life Christina, I am a sexual explorer, an erotic adventurer, a free thinker and a humanist. And that, Christina, is why I am appealing to your sexual intellect for you to join me. I want to explore sexual adventures with you. I want us to go on a journey, a journey of erotic discovery. Yes, I want us to explore our limits. Our limits of sexual experiences and limits of our sexuality.

How?

Well we have started. That Sunday at CC, later in your car and now yesterday. They were early explorations, initial adventures, but they were, as it's said, just our starters for ten, there is so much more to savour, explore, experience and find out.

I don't want to test your limits, I want to take you beyond them. But first we need to find them? Do you know where they are? Are they fucking a stranger, fucking on a first date, letting him rip your knickers, rubbing your own tits as he watches? Are they letting him fuck you from behind, having him lick your arse until you are helplessly cumming or wanking yourself in your car when he telephones you later? Are they near or past your limits Chrissy, if indeed you have any? Do sluts have limits, isn't being a true slut a high enough rating? It is for me, there can be no finer state of womanhood than to be a true slut.

Have you surprised yourself with me? Have you wondered why you have done what we have done? Was yesterday and Monday a surprise? It was different wasn't it, being firstly finger fucked outside then shagged on that massage table? Do you like sex in the open air Chrissy, do you like it when and where you might get caught? Was it exciting driving your car with your tits out and wanking yourself in it with your skirt round your waist?

You gave into me so easily. That was great, but don't feel guilt, don't think it makes you a slut. You are slut without doing anything like that, but you are only the slut of your chosen one or ones. You are not a generic slut, but a very specific one, mine. And you like that don't you? You liked me treating you as a slut, making you bare your tits for me, playing with yourself and then wanking in your car as we spoke on the phone, didn't you? And you'll do that again won't you? You enjoyed being abused, hurt and dominated, you liked being my sub, but you also loved being loved as yesterday? Like me Christina I think you love it all and want it all.

You have a flexibility of attitude and an openness of mind that equips you to be, not only my slut, when we want you to be, but also many other things.

I love your body, I like small tits and womanly curves, I like your chunky thighs and full buttocks and, as you have seen I adore your arse. I want to capture, invade and possess it, all of it, as if it's mine; your tits, your nipples, your clit, your cunt and your arse Christina. As much as they are physically yours I want them to become emotionally ours. But as much as I want to ravage your body, I want to own and possess your mind. Yes I want to invade it, your, thoughts, feelings and emotions. I want to know what is between your ears as intimately as I know what's between your legs Chrissy. I want both; I want your cunt and arse, but more than anything my delicious slut I want your mind, I want to possess that and I want to fuck that every way I can. I want to fuck it as I am fucking it now, I am aren't I Chrissy, I am fucking you now aren't I, your mind that is not your cunt? That's down to you, your mind is mine, your cunt is ours, let me fuck your mind as you fuck your cunt. You are starting to do that aren't you, just as my words are starting to shag your brain? Are you touching yourself yet, have you loosened any clothing or removed any thing? Will you masturbate, have you, are you?

I will see you and have you again, very soon my wantonly gorgeous slut.

In lust and in need of your mind

G

I was amazed. I was also impressed and I have to say pleased, in a way. It surprised me that a man of such academic leanings would even think, let alone write so graphically about sex; I had always thought that big minds occupy themselves with important and serious topics, not sex, but then, I suppose, what is that if not important and serious?

I also felt a sort of relief. In many ways I agreed with what Guy was saying about sex and love. I had worked out in my mind that they were not intrinsically linked, but I had not been able to define their relationship. Guy was explaining there was none. I also agreed that everyone should have more sexual and sexuality liberation, after all supposedly me and the Scandinavians manage it.

But going on a journey, what did that mean? Where would we go, how would it be acted out? Did that matter though? Did I need to know? After all I had done things with Guy that I had never done with anyone else and would never have thought I would do, so why bother about rules. I trusted him and I was fascinated by him. Yes that was the word, it wasn't love it was fascination and that I was beginning to see was far more powerful. I had never masturbated myself in a car at night in the country for a man I loved, but I had with one who fascinated me.

I was though, beginning to worry a little at just how much control he was gaining over me. It was a new experience for me. I had not been like this before and that concerned me somewhat. However, as I do when I get any problem I had researched it on the web and had found the 'Fifty Shades of Grey syndrome' as some now called it was far more common than most of us believed. What was even more interesting and germane was that it was very prevalent amongst women who held high powered positions.

The sheer idea of the journey was a turn on. He was a turn on, everything about him was. All we'd done so far, as extreme as it was had been a turn on and, of course this mail was as well. No one, not even the men and women I'd met in chat rooms when I first moved to London and was extremely lonely had written anything like this to me. I enjoyed the way he combined sophisticated phrasing with totally basic words, the way he wrote about him fucking me and how he described my cunt. Few can get away with using such words, but Guy could.

The mail intrigued me, it excited me and yes, like Guy, it fascinated me, aroused me and turned me on. I was physically shaking when I returned to the private dining room to rejoin my all but one male colleagues. Before I did, though, I, pressed reply, typed and then pressed send. I had typed just one word.

'When.'

I was surprised to get an almost instant reply.

'Good, I am pleased, the journey starts here, undress.'

I smiled.

'Can't I am in New York having dinner with my colleagues.'

'Can you come here tomorrow?' 'No I don't fly home until tomorrow night.'

'How about Friday?"

I knew I shouldn't. I had stolen time earlier in the week, I was in New York and now I was thinking of bunking off work again on Friday.

'Yes, what time?'

'Early afternoon, say two?'

'That would be fine, anything else?'

'Obviously don't wear much, lol, maybe stay the night too. Yes?'

'That would be nice.'

*

I got back to The Pierre around eleven and as he had told me I mailed him. He replied immediately even though it was four in the morning in the UK.

I had, as they called it cybered before. I'd had a busy web period after I parted from my husband. Chat rooms were popular then and I had found them to be a nice diversion and also a useful aid to masturbation and relieving the frustration of again being a single woman.

The previous times had not been as intense as this one though. When we finished I did feel slightly guilty for the scene was pretty sordid. I was laid back in the leather chair, my white blouse was undone, my tits were pulled out of my bra. There were red marks on them where Guy had told me to pinch myself with my fingernails, my black suit skirt was pulled up round my waist, my panties were round my ankles and both of my hands were buried deep between my legs.

He enjoyed making the scene wanton, almost lewd. He would never let me strip off and demurely, almost, lay on a bed and masturbate. He made me pull my skirt up rather than take it off; undo my blouse, but leave it on, pull my tits out of my bra rather than remove it and push my panties down round my knees. He ordered me to press my fingernails into my breasts so that I marked them, pinch my nipples so that they hurt and squeeze my tits far harder than I should. As I was doing what he told me he made me describe what I was doing and how I was feeling. Our phone sex was all about me. It was almost as if he was not involved other than being the puppet master who was pulling the strings on his puppet, me. It was undignified, humiliating, abusive and degrading, but it was also incredibly erotic and, I had to admit, precisely what I wanted and needed.

Guy made me cum very quickly, but didn't give any indication as to whether he had or not, which was often the case even when he fucked me.

I had no idea what to expect as I drove up the M11 once again on the Friday. It was very warm so I had done as instructed and not worn much. Just a cornflower blue, mid-calf length, loose dress with panties. No bra. The top was scooped quite low and there were two, roughly one inch wide shoulder straps. I wore a string of large pearls, false of course, round my neck; they came down to near my nipples and bobbled over my boobs as I moved, but then a lot of other stuff also bobbled as I moved; I hope he was being truthful when he said he liked my tits!

As he'd told me to I rang when I had parked my car in his reserved place, parking is always at a tremendous premium in Cambridge.

"Ask Perkins, he'll meet you when you park the car, he's the old chap who brought the food when you were here before, remember?"

"Oh yes, right."

"He'll show the way to my meeting room."

Perkins did as Guy had said and directed me up a different set of stone steps into the old college. I went into the large, old fashioned and rather tattily furnished room, which I couldn't help contrasting to Guy's farm, which was beautifully designed, decorated and furnished.

Guy had said that he was finishing something and had suggested I have a glass of wine "Just to get you nicely relaxed" he'd said. I'd smiled back and muttered into the car's hands free phone system.

"Who says I need relaxing?"

"We all do always Chrissy, you know that."

I'd been there ten minutes or so and I was half way through the glass of wine that I had found in the fridge just as he had said, but then everything seemed to be that, just as he said. Even now sitting in his stuffy, hot meeting room wearing just my dress and panties with mid height heeled pumps, I could feel his presence, even though I hadn't seen him and had no idea where he was. Already I could feel myself coming under his spell. I could feel my sexual inhibitions fading away, just as they had the first time I had been to Corpus Christi College with him and just as they had at his farm the other afternoon.

But I was getting edgy, I finished the wine and looked at my Cartier watch that I hadn't really meant to wear for it is a bit flash and very chav: I had been there twenty five minutes. I poured another glass of wine a smaller one and sipped that impatiently looking at my watch as I wandered round the room that was littered with piles of books and files. It was now over half an hour. I was getting a little annoyed, yet at the same time, oddly, aroused as well. I looked at myself in the glass door of a large book filled cabinet. My nipples were clearly erect. I knew the bastards would be, they always let me down. I felt shivery and I had goose bumps on my arms. 'Fuck' I said to myself 'If he can do this when he isn't even here' I left that unfinished as my mobile rang.

I felt annoyed at him at keeping me waiting like this. I thought he was probably doing it on purpose as I often did when negotiations in a takeover were at a delicate stage. He was putting the shoe on the other foot, making a demonstration and telling me that although you might be a fucking powerful banker you were still a woman and one that could be manipulated and controlled. I didn't really like that, but acknowledged that it was true, that he could manipulate me, control me, direct me and yes dominate me. And as much as on one level I didn't like it on another his control over me aroused me.

My mobile rang.

"Come down the corridor Christina, the one where you went to the bathroom and come into the room that is two doors past that. Ok?" Guy said, making me throb with expectancy and excitement at hearing his voice and forgetting any idea of being annoyed.

"Yes of course," I gabbled.

"It's my bedroom" he added, making me nearly gag on the wine I was finishing.

My mind was filled with the beautiful memories of the afternoon, evening, night and next morning at his farm as I walked towards his bedroom. I was going to his bedroom, I was going to bed with him, I kept repeating silently.

I knocked on the door assuming he would open it, maybe naked I thought smiling at the vision it conjured up, going even further as I pondered as to whether he might also be erect.

"Come in Chrissy" he called out. I turned the round, wrought iron handle, pushed the heavy oak door open and walked in expecting to see Guy waiting to greet me. He wasn't. The room was laid out like a typical hotel room only much larger; a short corridor leading from the door to the main part of the room with a bathroom off that to the left. I walked down the short corridor wondering why he hadn't greeted me or come to meet me. As I reached the end of the corridor and was able to see the entire room I saw that he was sitting up in bed, with the sheet round his waist, his hairy chest nicely bare. I was just about to say hello when something moved in the bed on the other side of Guy and he said.

"Of course you know Kali don't you Chrissy?"

Seeing your lover in bed with another woman must be one of the most traumatic sights for anyone. When he's with someone who you thought was a friend, it's even worse. And my 'boy-friend' was most certainly in bed with another woman and that woman, Kali, was supposed to be my friend and more significantly my employee. How the fuck do you cope with one of your closest business colleagues being in bed with your lover? I almost burst into tears and wanted to turn and rush out, but something stopped me and that something was as bizarre as anything I had experienced in such a situation.

Getting out of bed naked Guy walked over to a table with drinks, glasses and an ice bucket on it. He was at least semi erect.

"Sorry to keep you waiting Chrissy" he smiled "I was just finishing something."

Kali sat up, the bedclothes falling away from her full breasts. Seeing me, she pulled them up to cover herself making me think 'Yes I can guess what he was finishing and that was fucking you my HR Director.'

"Guy, what's going on?"

"I told you Christina came in on Sunday evening didn't I?"