Stories Hub / Mind Control / Tristan's Tale Pt. 01

Tristan's Tale Pt. 01

by IncomingPornDuck 04/23/15

I had her up against the wall, fucking her from behind, a fistful of her black hair in one hand, pressing her face into the wood with the other. She was gasping for breath.

"Oh, fuck, Tristan fuck me harder!"

I let go of her hair and a dismayed whimper escaped her lips, but it soon turned to a gasp of surprise when I smacked her ass harder than I ever had before. The loud smack filled the room, sounding not unlike slapping a pool noodle into the water, which was appropriate: she was so covered in sweat that my hand came back wet. Not that I had much experience smacking her ass, beautiful, pale, and round as it was, I'd only known her, what, two hours? I was already looking forward to controlling her further.

"Ah! Mmmm, yeah, like that baby..."

I slammed into her with my entire girth, her hot lips wrapped tightly against the base of my cock, and as they squeezed tightly on me, milking me, begging for more, I brought my other hand to her other cheek, and she practically screamed a raw, throat-raking scream in a mix of pleasure and pain that damn near made me cum on the spot, but, I had a degree of control over these things. Noise wasn't a concern, either, cheap as my apartment was, I'd made sure that nobody in the entire complex would ever hear.

She pressed her butt against my pelvis, writhing in desire, breathing deep, ragged breaths, shuddering occasionally. Her legs were shaking and weak. We'd been at it for awhile.

I pulled out slowly, feeling her grip tighten as I drew back, her pussy clenching on my dick, begging me not to leave.

"No, wait, more, please..."

I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, pressing her back against the wall. Her breasts were beautiful, the red impressions from being pressed into the wall for so long only turned me on even more. Her gaze bore into me, the auburn-brown of her irises aflame with desire, deepening the color to a shade more charged and alive than it had been when she'd checked me out at the grocery store earlier.

She reached a hand and grabbed my cock, slowly carressing me, letting her fingers trail from the base up to the tip.



With a shuddering cry, she tensed up against the wall, convulsing under my hands. I hadn't dropped the connection to her yet and so I could feel the fire that lit up deep inside her, snaking up her spine and spreading wave after wave of pleasure throughout her entire body. Her hand tightened on my dick, shuddering in jerky, uncontrolled movements.


Really? I raised an eyebrow. The fact that she could still talk meant I wasn't done yet. I moved close to her and pressed my body against hers, joining both our bodies in our own mutual sweat, feeling her warmth, she feeling mine, both of us alive and charged with each other. My body matched her shudders and as she rippled on me, I looked deep into her eyes again. Below that, her cute, pointy nose, and then her thin red lips. Mmm. I sunk into her, bringing my mouth to hers, and in the moment her lips touched mine, I shifted the entirety of my power through every cell of my body into her.


A white light, a scream - an explosion of bliss, the loss of all things physical, the joining of all sensation into a singular pointed feeling of nirvana, no difference between her body and her being and my body and my being and then, cumming deep inside her, peaking at the ascent into infinite pleasure, nothing.


Sometimes, at the beginning of things, there arises a feeling, a peculiar sensation which says, something is going to happen, soon. I'm sure you've felt it before. A tension in the air, perhaps, or the ghost of a feeling of having forgotten something important. Sometimes it's triggered by a particular event, something completely normal which for some reason appears out of place. This is what happened to me.

I was on the bus home from school when, looking out the window as one does when listening to music and sitting next to a stranger, when the bus turned onto my street, Bay (as if there's anything approaching a bay near my town) and I saw Ms. Goldblum, an elderly widow who lived on the corner, standing in the middle of her lawn, watering the grass with a blue watering can. I don't know what it was, but something about the image stuck out to me, as if the bus was turning and moving past her in slow motion. She didn't even look up to acknowledge my passage, but my eyes were glued to her, to the watering can. Even its shade of blue, a light, 1 in the afternoon cloudless sky blue, seemed to me impossible. Something was happening, I was convinced.

And, as with all such feelings which arise inexplicably, I dismissed it. What else would one do? The mind comes up with weird shit all the time. If you listened to your mind every time you got a small inkling of something or a thought came up, well, things would be very, very different. Much easier to ignore the things that aren't consistent with our image of our selves, and I didn't consider myself the kind of person to be set off by an old lady watering her lawn, so, fuck it, you know?

Coming up to my stop, I managed the awkward wordless communication to the person next to me that I needed to get up, and, as I stood, Joey, a friend of mine who was sitting opposite me, signaled for me to take my earbuds out.

"Hey Joey, what's up?"

"Hey. If you're feelin' up for it, we're having people over Friday night at my place. Parents are out of town for the weekend, so, you know the deal. Booze, chicks, music, debauchery of the finest degree." He grinned sarcastically. Joey's great - my closest friend, probably. We share this mutual understanding of how superficial it is to get a bunch of high school kids together to drink, how it's sort of not exactly deep, meaningful human interaction. Thing is, we also find it very fun to get drunk and there's not much else better to do in town. The possibility of getting laid doesn't hurt either.

"Yeah, I'll let you know. Thanks for the invite."

He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice - most of the people on the bus were from our school, and gossip spreads as quickly as an STD in a fraternity. "Amber might be there." He winked. "If, you know, you're trying to make something happen."

The bus pulled up to my stop. "Hah, well, I guess I'll have to be there, then. Later, man." I nodded goodbye and got off. The way he phrased the invitation, "if you're feeling up for it," was not surprising. I'd been in and out of my social life recently, tending toward the reclusive side. Even then, when I was out with friends, they bugged me constantly about how down and depressed I was compared to normal. I didn't have the heart to tell them why.

The walk from the bus stop is always nice - my neighborhood is relatively wealthy compared to some parts of town, but we're not talking million dollar houses or anything, not by a long shot. The house before mine is owned by an old man with whom I exchange a hello almost every day. It seems all he does is sit on the chair out on his porch and watch the street, with no particular intention. I hardly know anything about him, really, and often think of striking up a conversation, but never have. He wasn't out today, which only solidified the strangeness of the day. It's not like he's never late, but this small disturbance appeared to me unusual where otherwise I would have simply let it pass.

Once home, I reached in my pocket for my keys, but they weren't there. Not unusual, maybe I'd left them in my backpack but, I took it off and checked - no dice. Oh well. I could always break in through the back, but, on a whim, I tried the door and was astonished when it swung open easily.

Understand, I live alone, and my door locks automatically. It's the kind that doesn't ever stay "unlocked", not to mention the fact that it hasn't been oiled in half a decade and sticks like hell, you really need to put your shoulder into it. I peered inside.

"Hello? Anyone home? You know," I smiled weakly, and felt my heart rate quicken, "in my home?"

No response but an unnerving silence - not even the background hum of the refrigerator was present. I considered calling the cops, but, and maybe I'm just a dumbass, I figured a real man would step in and defend his home turf, and so I walked in and shut the door behind me.


The front door opens to a living room, which was by all appearances empty. Nobody on the sofa, nobody could really fit under the coffee table, and besides, it was glass. I started walking toward the kitchen, and that's when I heard the door slam shut behind me.

I whirled around, and, to my complete and utter astonishment, the back of my door was gone, and in its place was a path of white gravel which led out into what appeared to be an enclosed, forested glade. There was no door to speak of, as if it had never been there, and I could see plainly the brightness of the sky through the foliage of the trees. Amidst the interlacing songs of the birds were the sound of insects buzzing, and I felt the humidity of this outside place press on me, the wetness and heat in the air brushing my skin.

I'll be honest. I walked straight the fuck away from that door and into the kitchen, shutting the door behind me. The sounds didn't dissipate in the slightest, but I didn't turn around.

It was just so...wrong? As if my house had been dropped into a jungle. Yeah, no thanks. Maybe one of my friends had slipped me a hallucinogen, but, no, I'd eaten alone the past few days.

I'm not at all ashamed to admit that, so confronted with this predicament, I got some bread from my breadbox and put it in the toaster, fully intending to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I stood at the counter, and watched the heating coils steadily heat to a bright orange. The ticking of the toaster timer only sounded like another insect among many, and the humidity had followed me here too. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that, were I to look behind me, the kitchen door too would be gone.

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