My Fondest Memory

My Fondest Memory

Part 3 of 4

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Within the realm of erotica, there's an entire subgenre devoted to mind control. It is typically told from the perspective of someone who possesses a magic potion, an incantation, or a medical device that compels hapless victims to submit. Usually, the victims don't even realize they are being victimized.

How would one of these stories look from the perspective of someone who doesn't know their mind has been hijacked?

Meet Sheila Friendman, a happy, carefree young woman living a placid existence. Along comes Ron Stevenson, who changes everything. This story is told by Sheila, who explains what happens when her consent is stolen so skillfully she doesn't even recognize that it's gone. Here in Part 3, Sheila is shocked to discover her sexuality has changed radically.

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Ron and I settled into a routine. We'd get up in the morning, have sex, then I'd go to work and try to focus on my job until it was time to go home and be with Ron again. My work hours were unpredictable, so Ron asked me to text him when I was ready to drive home. That way he could be ready to take me to bed.

He knew it was hard for me to be away from him for so many hours, so he made an effort to give me some much-needed sex as soon as I walked in the door.

This continued for months. As time passed blissfully, Ron introduced me to increasingly exotic types of sex. I'd never been interested in kink before I met Ron, but every single thing he wanted me to try turned out to be so erotic that I wondered why I'd avoided kink for so long. I felt like I'd wasted years of my life, and I was grateful to Ron for showing me so many new ways to enjoy my sexuality.

He introduced me to bondage. Spanking. Anal. Blindfolds. Facials. Role playing. Erotic asphyxiation. Amateur sex videos. Electrostimulation. Eroticized pain. There was always something new. I never knew what would happen when Ron took me to bed.

I liked that. I liked it a lot.

Ron expanded my sexual horizons. Before meeting him, I had no idea that I could be so aroused by the feel of hot candle wax dripping on my breasts, or how liberating it felt to be powerless in restraints, or the voyeuristic thrill of watching a homemade video that showed us having wild, hard-core sex.

"Helping you explore your sexual potential is my job, Sheila," Ron said once. "You are my girl. I love you. I know you have needs. We need to understand your needs so we can meet them."

You are my girl. I love you.

I'm sure you must know how overjoyed I was every time he said those words. I'd loved Ron from the beginning, but I was slow to use that word because I was afraid he might not say it back. Hearing him declare his love was more satisfying than anything we did in the bedroom.

Still, I thought it was strange that I got an unexpected pleasure from hearing Ron call me his "girl." Before I met him, I hated being called a girl. I was a woman, and expected to be treated like one. For some reason, I didn't mind when Ron called me his girl. Odd.

I was continually surprised by the pleasure I experienced when we tried something new in the bedroom. I always liked it. Always. Nothing Ron tried failed to arouse me. It reminded me of how I felt when I began experiencing multiple orgasms. It seemed as though Ron had some way of controlling my mind, making me open to experiences I'd never wanted to try.

I know the idea of mind control is preposterous, but I sometimes imagined it was the only way to explain the rapid changes in my life. Or maybe I was just evolving as a person, and Ron was helping me enjoy experiences I hadn't known I'd like.

During this period I more-or-less accepted all of this experimentation. If I enjoyed being spanked, so what? It didn't mean anything about the kind of woman I am, right? But then something happened that rattled me to the core. It made me question my whole identity.

One day Ron asked me to look through his little viewer again. As always, I saw some swirling colors, and I don't remember anything else. Afterward, he took me to an art gallery that was having an opening for three up-and-coming artists. The trio produced what they called "feminist art" that explored various elements of womanhood. It was a big gallery that was packed with people. As soon as we entered, I noticed that I had feelings I'd never experienced before.

I always considered myself to be a completely heterosexual woman. I know a lot of lesbian and bisexual women, and I envy anyone who can respond to men and women alike. But I never had that capacity.

That's why it felt strange when I found myself feeling aroused by some of the women at the gallery. For the first time in my life, I felt sparks of sexual attraction to women. It was nice, but the experience was so bizarre I didn't know what to think about it.

What's happening to me?

I wondered.

What is going on? Why am I enjoying the way these women make me feel?

For some reason, Ron wasn't surprised. It was as though he expected me to feel attracted to women suddenly. "You like the way she looks, don't you?" he said when he caught me staring at a particularly pretty young woman. "Do you think she's sexy?"

I had to tell the truth. "Yes," I said. "I don't know why. I've never been attracted to women before."

"What is it you find so appealing about her?" he asked.

I thought about it. "I love her legs. I can't believe I'm saying this, but her legs and ass are so luscious I wish I could touch them. Doesn't that sound crazy?"

"I don't think it's crazy at all," Ron said. "She has very nice legs and a beautiful butt. Touching them would feel nice."

"But I'm straight!" I said. "I haven't had any sexual feelings for any woman before today! Ever! What's wrong with me!"

Ron looked concerned. He put one arm around my shoulder. "Sheila, I am sure there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. It's completely normal for a vibrant, healthy woman like you to feel attracted to sexy people. You've said before that you believe your sexuality is growing and evolving. Maybe this is just one more example of that."

"It's awfully sudden," I said, feeling my gaze drawn to a pair of cute women entering the gallery.

"It's something you need to explore," he said.

I wasn't surprised when he said that. Ron seemed committed to what he called 'self-discovery.' He wanted me to know everything knowable about myself, especially when it came to my capacity for arousal. That's one of the things I love about him. He always looks for new ways to make me happy and fulfilled.

"I've got an idea," he said. "I know one of the artists here. She happens to be a very attractive woman. Let me introduce you. See how she makes you feel. One thing you should know is that she's a confirmed lesbian. I don't think she's ever been with a man, but she loves women. I'll bet she'll appreciate how beautiful and sexy you are."

Ron led me into an adjoining room, which displayed several paintings by an artist who called herself Femme Love. That isn't her real name, of course - the name on her birth certificate is Paula Schmidt - but adopting that professional name emphasized her interest in erotic art, and it allowed her to sign her paintings with the word "Femme."

Personally, I think the name is a bit silly and pretentious, but I realize that it's hard for artists to earn a living, so anything that promotes their careers is fine with me. Femme was standing in front of a wall that displayed several of her paintings.

When Ron said Femme was a lesbian, I expected to meet a woman who dressed in masculine clothes, wore no make-up, and had extremely short hair. That's not what I saw. Femme is one of those women who call themselves "lipstick lesbians." She had long, wavy brown hair, extra high heels, a clingy dress with lots of cleavage, and the kind of perfect make-up you'd expect to see on a fashion model.

Seeing Femme made my heart pound. It felt like I was suddenly overwhelmed with urges I could barely control. She looked familiar for some reason. Had I seen a picture of her somewhere? I wondered if we'd met.

"Hello Femme," Ron said. "It's good to see you again. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Ron," she said. She was talking to Ron, but she seemed unable to take her eyes off me. It was as though she was attracted to me as much as I was attracted to her.

"Who is your friend, Ron?" Femme asked.

"This is my girlfriend, Sheila," Ron said.

"You look familiar, Sheila. Have we met?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"You may have seen photos of Sheila," Ron said. "She used to work as a model, and a few years ago she won the Miss Ohio USA beauty pageant. You've always had a good eye for beautiful women, Femme. If you ever saw a picture of Sheila, I'm sure you'd remember."

"I'm sure I would," Femme said, giving me a sexy smile that made me feel warm between my legs. She looked me up and down the way a starving woman might look at a nice juicy steak. The erotic energy between us was so strong I couldn't help trying to imagine what she looked like naked.

"Femme, do you still do commissions?" Ron said. "I'd be interested in having you paint a portrait of Sheila."

The sudden smile on Femme's face seemed to say that she'd love to paint my portrait. "You read my mind, Ron. I was just thinking I'd like you to model for me, Sheila. Why don't you take a look at some of my work and see if you'd be interested in posing for me."

Femme's paintings featured a series of beautiful women. They were all erotic, with most of the women posing nude. The canvases shimmered with arousal. I thought it would be wonderful to have a portrait like that of me, and I was excited when Ron suggested it.

Ron and Femme made plans for her to come over to the house and talk about the commission. Femme kept stealing glances at me. As you know, Ron asked me to wear sexy clothes when we're out together, and I'd picked a very attractive outfit for the gallery show. I wore black leggings, black high heels, and an off-the-shoulder black silk blouse that hugged my breasts and exposed a few inches of my firm, tanned abs. I was glad I'd worn such a sexy outfit. I wanted Femme to like me. I'm not sure why that was so important, but it's how I felt.

I walked unsteadily back to the car as we left the gallery. "Tell me what you thought of Femme," Ron said. "Did you think she was attractive?"

"She's the hottest woman I've ever met," I said. "I can't believe how much she turned me on."

"You had the same effect on her," Ron said.

"I know. I could tell. Until today, I never felt attracted to women. Now, I'm so turned on I'm almost paralyzed. What is happening to me?"

"What's happening is that you are discovering new things about yourself," Ron said. "Don't run from your sexuality. Lean into it. If you feel aroused, I think I know something that might help you deal with those feelings."

"Get us home as fast as you can, Ron," I said. "I need some penis therapy. I need it right now."

I got out of the car as soon as Ron pulled into our garage. I ran to the bedroom, taking off my clothes on the way. It took me some time to shimmy out of my leggings.

"Are you in a hurry, Sheila?" Ron said.

"Don't ask stupid questions!" I replied. "Just take your clothes off!"

What I wanted right then was for Ron to spread my legs and fuck me as hard as he could. My pussy felt warm, and I was sure it must be wet. But Ron had a better idea. He fetched a leather blindfold we sometimes used when we played bondage games.

"I'd like you to pretend you're here with Femme, not me," Ron said. "Imagine she's the one doing things to you. Imagine what it would feel like to have sex with a woman."

He got between my legs and prepared to eat my pussy. For some reason, it was effortless for me to imagine it was Femme who was about to go down on me. I felt Ron's warm breath on my pussy, and imagined it was Femme's. The lips I felt kissing my inner thighs seemed to belong to Femme. The fingers that spread my pussy felt like hers.

The illusion was so powerful that it felt like Femme sucking my clit between her lips and licking it with her soft little tongue. I climaxed, imagining how natural it would feel for a woman to give me so much pleasure.

The fingers that began exploring my vagina and rubbing my G-spot seemed to belong to Femme. The tongue that licked my hot wet slit felt like the tongue of a woman. The hands squeezing my breasts and caressing my nipples felt like Femme's. I climaxed again, and I couldn't help thinking that Femme must be a wonderful lover.

This continued for a while, and we finally reached the point where Ron was so aroused he had to get on top of me and push his cock into my pussy. You might think feeling Ron's cock would make it impossible for me to keep fantasizing about Femme. That didn't happen. Instead, I began to imagine she was fucking me with a strap-on dildo. That image was so erotic that I came again. A few minutes after that I felt Ron begin to climax. The throbbing of his cock pushed me over the edge one more time, giving me my strongest climax of the day.

I was exhausted as I sprawled on my back, tried to catch my breath, and held onto the fantasy of being next to beautiful, naked Femme.

"I believe we've established that you are attracted to women," Ron said. "At the very least, you are attracted to Femme."

"I can confirm that!" I said. "It's hard for me to admit it to myself, but apparently I like the ladies."

"That's a good thing," Ron said.

"If you say so," I said. "But it's not something I can act upon. I'd never do anything to jeopardize our relationship. I'd never cheat on you, Ron."

"Why do you think it would be cheating?" Ron asked. "I wouldn't object if you had sex with Femme. Sheila, it's my job to meet your sexual needs. If you need to experience sex with women, I need to help make that possible. Don't you know I'd never deny you anything important?"

I could barely believe what Ron was saying. "You'd do that for me?" I asked. "You'd let me go to bed with Femme?"

"Of course," Ron said. "With Femme and any other woman who appealed to you. I'm old-fashioned enough that I'd feel jealous if you had sex with another man, but I'm not threatened by you having sexual feelings for Femme or any other woman.

"Sheila, we'll make it happen. If Femme isn't interested in having sex with you, we'll find another woman for you. A beautiful babe like you should have no trouble attracting a whole herd of horny girls."

My heart filled with gratitude. I'd known Ron was an endlessly loving, generous boyfriend, but I hadn't imagined he'd be willing to welcome another woman into our relationship. I found myself hoping that the woman we settled on would be interested in having sex with Ron, too. It would be so much more intimate if we found a girl we could both enjoy.

I wondered where I got that idea. It didn't seem like something I'd imagine on my own. It felt almost as though someone planted the notion of sexy threesomes in my mind. Odd.

Thinking about sex with women cranked my libido so high that we didn't leave the house for the rest of the weekend. Ron had an interesting idea. We watched lesbian sex videos together, then he'd have me put on the blindfold and imagine myself with the porn stars we saw. By this time we'd spent so much time engaged in role-playing that I found it very easy to entertain these fantasies.

I reluctantly went back to work on Monday, and I got so aroused that I decided to return home for "lunch." Ron didn't seem surprised when I walked in the door, and he knew exactly what I wanted. The same thing happened on Tuesday. I had to work late to meet my quota that day.

We had something important to look forward to on Wednesday. Femme agreed to come over that evening to have cocktails and discuss the portrait Ron wanted to commission. I was so hyped up that I insisted that Ron give me an especially vigorous fucking as soon as I got home from work. I knew I'd have a hard time sitting in the same room with Femme and having a sensible conversation unless Ron calmed me down first with a big dose of cock therapy.

Despite that, my heart fluttered when Femme walked in the door. It was obvious that she put a lot of effort into dolling herself up for this meeting. She looked hot. Smoking hot. Anyone who saw how she looked that night would have had no trouble believing that she was an artist specializing in female erotica.

I'd worn the sexiest outfit I could think of, and I was pleased that Femme seemed to notice. She kept stealing glances at my legs, and once I caught her looking down my blouse. It didn't seem to matter that Ron had taken me to bed earlier. I was simmering with lust.

"I appreciate your support of me as an artist," Femme said to Ron. "It helps a lot when you buy a painting. It helps a lot when you commission a work."

"I'm happy to do it, Femme," Ron said. "Your art is exquisite. I'm sure you're going to be famous someday. I should buy more of your art because I know it's going to increase in value."

"That's a very gracious thing to say," Femme replied.

"It's just the truth, Femme," Ron said. "You should know that I love Sheila with all my heart. If you could do a portrait that captures her spirit, I would be very grateful."

"I'd love to try," Femme said. "Sheila, have you seen any of my portraits?"

"Just the ones that were on display at the gallery," I said.

"Then you know that my models pose in the nude, correct?" Femme said.

"I saw that. I don't have a problem with it," I said. "Ron is my lover. I adore it when he admires my body. It would be wonderful if you could give him another way to do that."

"Femme, I appreciate that you have refrained from asking me to discuss your fee," Ron said. "I know that's important to you, and I want to reassure you that I'll make this project worth your time. I imagine that's something you'd like to discuss privately. Sheila, would you mind making a pot of coffee while Femme and I go to my office and take care of business?"

Ron led Femme to his office. "There's something I'd like to show you first," he said. "Remember that little viewer I showed you before? I've been working on it. You might enjoy a new feature I'm very proud of."

They went into the office and closed the door. I went to the kitchen and noticed how excited I felt. Femme was so sexy I couldn't stop thinking about how alluring she looked. It was difficult to sit in the same room and try to carry on a coherent conversation. I had no idea how Ron would broach the subject of her joining us in bed, but I wasn't worried. From the first day we met, I'd seen repeated examples of Ron's power of persuasion. If anyone could convince Femme to have sex with me, it was Ron.

They were in Ron's office longer than I expected, so I poured myself a coffee to sip as I waited. Several long minutes went by before they emerged. Ron led Femme to our bedroom, and then asked me to join them.

I saw her sitting on the edge of our bed, looking very nervous. "Sheila, Femme has something she'd like to say to you," Ron said.

It seemed to take a lot of courage for Femme to begin speaking. "Sheila, I've been thinking about you obsessively since we met at the gallery. I know this sounds silly, but I feel as though I've known you for a long time."

"I feel the same," I said.

"I am so attracted to you that I don't understand it. I've been intimate with many wonderful women, but I've never experienced such a sudden and intense desire. Ron says I should ask if you feel attracted to me. I hope so, Sheila."

Her words sent a flood of warmth between my legs. Ron winked at me. "I think you should tell her what you told me," he said.