Fucking My Mind Pt. 05

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.

*

Surprisingly, I was back at the farm less than a week later for he didn't often want me that quickly again. Guy lived his life in spasms. He would want me and need to do something different and extreme to me and then he would lose interest, sometimes even when I was still there. Then I would creep out of his bed get dressed and go home usually leaving my panties for his collection. I did not like those occasions, though I did recognise that was just how he and things were, so I got on with it.

He ushered me upstairs the moment I arrived.

"Undress," he told me not hardly even looking at me as he removed all his clothes. I was a bit put out as I was naked under the tight, white thin trousers that were as good as see through and the loose, silk tee. Although they were few and far between I loved the times when he lavished compliments on me and deep down I was hoping for some this time, but he seemed preoccupied so there was none.

Although it was autumn and the evenings were getting cooler, Guy still liked to have sex outdoors. A couple or three times it was on the banks of the river Cam and twice in some woods out to the west of the city, but usually it was on his roof terrace at the farm. I was getting used to having sex within ear, but not eye, shot of some of his staff, both men and the older housekeeper Mary; none of whom batted an eyelid when they saw me later just after they must have heard my moans, groans and grunts of sexual pleasure.

"What's that for?" I asked when he led me from his bedroom onto the roof terrace one sunny afternoon. It was around four and although it was still fairly warm my nudity did feel the slight chill in the air and some goose bumps started.

"It's waterproof and doesn't soak things up," Guy replied picking up the three or four inch thick rubber sort of mattress. It was about three feet wide and six long. We were standing on the beech wood decking without any cover.

I felt alarmed. "Guy we agreed not that."

"Not what?" He asked putting his hand on my face and running it into my hair.

"Water stuff," I said meekly.

A couple of times Guy had mentioned peeing on or being peed on and I had said. "Anything but bodily wastes, children and animals."

"Stroke me Chrissy," he said pushing himself towards me. I gripped his erection, quite lightly and ran my fingers up and down that.

"Who said anything about pissing, I told you I'm not into that, shit, kids or animals or enemas, we agreed that."

"I'm sorry" I replied relieved and enjoying his tongue on my nipple and his hand between my legs. "What is it for then?"

"You'll find out, lay down on it." I was quite relieved to hear that, for I was sure that when standing up if someone walked through the first field they would be able to see me. "On your tits," he added as I went to lay on my back hoping for some comment on my shaved pubic area, but none came.

I laid down and he walked over to the canopied area. I glanced up hearing him returning and saw that he had a bottle in his hand. He knelt beside me.

"The best almond oil," he said pouring a goodly portion, or so it seemed onto my back. Some of it dribbled over my sides and onto the mattress, clearly illustrating its purpose. He smoothed the oil over my back and bum and into the crease lingering temptingly on my anal hole. I assumed he would finger me there for some 'play' in that area had happened each time we had sex; I was beginning to look forward to him doing it and now thoroughly enjoyed it. I opened my legs a little, but he didn't go there. He poured more oil onto my legs again smoothing it all over them, occasionally touching, but not lingering on my pussy lips. Again he didn't finger me there either.

"Turn over."

He repeated the pouring of the oil on my front smoothing, rather than rubbing it onto my body and lingering, but not really caressing my tits, nipples, tummy and thighs.

"Mmmmm you look lovely, your turn now."

"What do you mean.?"

"To oil me up."

"Really?" I asked genuinely surprised?

"Yes come on" he said actually smiling as he helped me up and took my place

He laid on his front and spread his legs wide. I knelt down and saw his big balls hanging down and momentarily wanted to grab and rub them, but doing that sort of thing uninvited or at the wrong time was not a good idea with Guy. Instead I poured what I guessed to be a similar amount on his back to that he had poured on mine. That also ran off the side onto the mattress. I rubbed it in loving the feeling of his oiled flesh under my fingers and hands.

"You don't have to massage me just oil me up," he said in a slightly reprimanding tone. I completed his back and he turned over lying there with his eyes closed and his cock rampantly hard. It looked great; I wondered if I should oil that as well. I poured it all over his chest and, trying to be a bit of a tease, then did his legs leaving his middle parts and, of course, his deliciously appealing cock to last. I poured some on his waist and smoothed that downwards purposefully avoiding his penis, which I noted kept twitching. I rested my fingers on it my pulse starting to race from the feeling.

"This as well Guy?" I asked in a whisper, still having no idea what this was all about.

"Yes," he replied in an unusually, for him croaky voice.

I poured a goodly amount of the thin oil onto the ridge of his cock watching it ooze down either side onto his hairy stomach and pubes and down the shaft onto his balls. I poured a little more on them and looked at the golden liquid seeping between his slightly parted thighs.

Without warning, he stood up. With the setting sun behind and the 'big sky' of Cambridgeshire surrounding him He did indeed look a little like the archetypal golden Adonis. He took me into his arms and squirmed his body against mine, the oil on both of them making it feel very slippery. I squirmed back, he writhed, I did the same. My breasts were squashed but slithered across the matted, lubricated hairs on his chest. His cock did the same on my stomach and everywhere our bodies touched the skin and flesh glided against the other.

I began to get it, I think. Maybe it wasn't a massage, possibly the purpose of the oil wasn't, as I had imagined it was, to lubricate my back passage, maybe this was not an anal thing. He turned me round and pulled my head so that was turned almost to him so we could kiss. He squeezed my breasts, the oil seeming to make them hard to grip, but wonderful to have touched. His hands ran up and down my slippery body as he rubbed his slippery chest against my back, his oiled legs against the back of mine and his so smooth cock against my well-oiled bum.

It was a series of wonderful and so different sensations. I had never done anything like this before, but then I was experiencing so many new things with this amazing man. Then without a word he removed his tongue from my mouth, let go of me and lay down on his back on the mattress, which I noted was covered in a thin film of the oil.

"Lay on me," he told me.

I did. He put his arms round me and squashed my breasts against his chest. Again all the squirming; chests, breasts, thighs and of course his cock. His hands gripped the cheeks of my bum and he pulled them open. His finger pressed right against my hole, but he didn't push it in.

"Ever done body to body massage before?" He asked pressing on my bum hole with his finger and kneading the cheek of my bum with his other hand.

"No, never."

We kissed, deeply as we rubbed our bodies together in this strange and new experience for me. I slithered my hands around his body and slid them under his bum, he lifted up to help me and I grasped his pert arse and squeezed and rubbed that as I ground my stomach and tits against his slippery torso. It really was different and as far as Guy and my relationship went, it was tender and very intimate. I sat up and let my knees slide either side of his legs just beneath his hips. I reached down and lifted his cock up intending to slip it in me so I could fuck him; he wasn't that keen on me being on top, but I thought it worth a try for I so enjoy being in that position.

"Not yet," he grunted pushing and pulling my tits, which with the oil seemed to have gained an extra elasticity. As he pushed them up the nipples almost touched my chin and when he pulled them apart they were almost under my arms.

"Turn round," he told me. I did. He grasped my shoulders and pulled me backwards until I was lying flat on my back on top of him. He reached round and again started rubbing my body, my chest, my tits, my stomach and my thighs. The oil made his hands slither over my skin in what was a strangely erotic way. He pushed both hands downwards as he pulled my face so we could kiss. That was lovely. Both of his hands went down the slight swell of my tummy, past my mound and onto my thighs, which he rubbed for some time slowly pushing them open so my feet were flat on the ground. He pulled me up his body a few inches and then let the tip of his cock press right against my wet and oiled lips. With a tug on my waist and a thrust of his hips his slippery cock slithered up me. He fucked me like that. I was quite powerless to do anything other than let my body move in time with his rhythm as he used his hands all over my body. It really was a different and surprisingly sexy way of fucking, but then Guy was showing me so many things like that.

*

'Come to CC at 6 and as usual don't wear much, but wear a dress. You'll be staying the night so a change of clothes is needed?' That was the typical sort of text I received a few weeks later. I hadn't heard from him since that afternoon on the roof terrace. In part that was good as it enabled me to get on with my day job that to my horror and disbelief I was starting to neglect. I wore a fashionable full length dress. It had a scooped front and short sleeves. It was tight round my bust and waist, but the skirt was slightly flared and flapped round my ankles. It was made from a deep yellow material and had a few, brass buttons from the neckline to the waist. I left one of those undone and didn't wear any underwear, although I had a couple of pairs of panties and a bra together with my toiletries in my overnight bag.

"Very nice, put this on," Guy said after I arrived at his rooms just after six in the evening. It was very warm with hardly a breeze. He was wearing a pair of dark blue linen trousers, brown boat shoes without socks and a short sleeved, white polo shirt. He had all three buttons undone showing some curls of hairs through the gap between the open sides of the shirt, he looked good and pretty cool. However, I did see a touch of grey in the hairs, something I hadn't noticed before. He handed me a scholar's gown. That was made from a light wool material with a heavily pleated back; it was white. It wrapped round my shoulder, had elbow length sleeves and came to mid-way between my knees and ankles. It had no fasteners down the front and as I walked to the mirror to check my appearance, it flapped round me.

"What's this for?"

"We're going to Queen's for a special dinner and we have to wear our gowns," he told me slipping into his which was similar to mine but was made from black silk and had a magenta, almost purple, slash round the collar and down the front, which I recalled signified that he was a professor.

It wasn't much of a walk along Trumpington and across the bridge on Silver Street, but I did feel strange being naked under my dress. We got to Queen's, went through a courtyard into the main building and through a large oak door that was open. He followed me up a flight of narrow stairs, stroking my bum that was swaying inches from his face, and led me down a corridor into a modest sized, about twenty feet square, room furnished in a similar faded elegance style to his rooms at Corpus. It was set up as a dining room with an oblong table, which had two chairs on two sides and one at each end. There was a long oak sideboard on which there were several bottles of wine, decanters of port and what looked like whiskey and cognac and an array of glasses.

"You can take the dress off now," he said in the matter fact way he had of saying even the most sexually outrageous of things. Seeing that I was naked under the dress he smiled. "That's good Chrissy you learn quickly and I like that. Now put your gown back on and stay right there."

He sat down on the chair at the head of the table and rang a hand bell that had been left on it.

Assuming that was to encourage someone to enter the room, presumably to serve dinner I pulled the gown tightly round me. I was amazed when the door opened and men started entering. They were all wearing black, silk, scholar's robes similar to Guy's, but only one had the magenta trimmings.

Silently they filed in and sat at the other five seats round the table. I was left standing there. I felt awkward and left out. They nodded to Guy and began chatting largely about university matters. None of them Guy included paid any attention to me. It was quite strange.

"Oh by the way gentlemen" Guy suddenly said. "This is my slut who I have told you about."

The words crashed into me. He was being so cruel was my immediate thought. Then they all turned and looked at me and that made me feel embarrassed. They just gazed at me, they didn't speak or smile, but simply stared at me as I stood there naked apart from the robe that I was holding tightly round me. They won't know I'm naked I thought for they can only really see my legs and my upper chest.

"Christina," Guy said quite sharply. "Let go of the fucking robe will you, they want to see your tits and your bald cunt."

I stared at him, pleading with my eyes, but as he held me in the cold, blue eyed gaze that always did things to me, I knew my pleading would get me nowhere. I felt frozen and as if I was paralysed. I couldn't move, but I knew I had to. I could only do as he said, for there was no alternative other than making a run for it and then walk through Cambridge just in the gown. I looked from Guy to the other men. Their ages ranged from a likely late twenties or early thirties up to possible early fifties, maybe late forties. They were all rather grim faced, but not unattractive.

"We're waiting Christina," Guy said ignoring the law and lighting one of his big Davidoff cigars, but staring right at me through the cloud of blue smoke.

That was it, I knew I'd had it now and that there was no alternative. I realised that I was going to have to expose myself to all of them and my mind could only touch lightly on the surface of what else I might have to do. I gave Guy one more pleading stare, but after holding my gaze for a few seconds he turned away, looked at the guy on his left and said.

"It'll be worth waiting for, she really has got splendid tits."

That did it. He was starting to humiliate and abuse me. They were all looking at me, waiting and expectant. I looked from face to face and saw differing expressions; lust, desire, arrogance and keenness. Some had smiles and some had leers on their faces, all looked expectant and interested. Everything was getting to me and I was starting to move into the zone, assume the role and playing the part. The part of a slut. I was beginning to tingle and it suddenly hit me that I was no longer embarrassed or too concerned at them looking at me, in fact the thought of exposing my body to them was starting to turn me on. I was getting warm, there was a heat in my stomach, an irritation in my nipples and my breasts had that familiar feeling of fullness denoting my imminent arousal. My adrenalin was roaring through me making feel similar to how I always did before delivering an important presentation to a prospective client and how I imagined actors feel before going on stage. Momentarily I wondered how an actress would feel if she was doing a nude scene in front of a few hundred people. It was then that it hit me. Whilst by no means famous or a celebrity I did hold a senior position in one of the world's leading banks which meant I met very senior managers from some of the largest corporations and legal and accountancy practices in the world. If this got out I would be finished not just with big G, but with banking altogether.

As usual Guy was one step ahead of me.

"In case you are worried that one of my friends might be a reporter or that they may talk to others about this let them introduce themselves to you."

One by one they then told me their position. Of the five three were at the university as lecturers with one being a professor of quantum physics. Of the other two one was a lawyer and hade the balls to tell us the name of his firm that I knew very well and the other was a county councillor in Lincolnshire. I was not quite sure why he did that for of course I could have been anyone, even a hooker or a reporter, but that again was his way of exerting control over both them and me, I supposed.

"Pull it open Chrissy, let them see them."

I looked from Guy to the other men, took a step forward and let go of the edges of the gown. It fell straight down my body the lapels traversing my boobs and getting caught on my nipples. I saw the men's interest increase and it was as if they all leaned further forward. I stood there in front of five strangers and my 'boyfriend' as good as naked with my bare breasts and pussy on show to them all. There was a murmur of approval round the table and that made me feel as if I was on the stage of the Albert Hall taking applause. Their eyes seemed to bore into me and I was very aware that my nipples hardened and I was sure I started excreting my womanly sexual juices. I could hardly believe the sensations that were coursing through me for at the heart of them was that I was enjoying them looking at me.