Birth of an Analyst
Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.
Copyright 2023 email@example.com
Archived on the Erotic Mind Control web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.
“We need to talk.”
Madison’s stomach clenched at Ethan’s words. She didn’t want to talk. She knew what she wanted.
His cock in her arse.
Talking wouldn’t get her that. All he had to do was give her the nod and she’d be racing to the meeting room. She’d drop her panties, bend over and he’d send her to heaven. Maybe she could ask him. Every day she waited for him to give the signal. She didn’t mind. She never had to wait long, he always did it before lunch.
Mornings were the best time of day.
But now Ethan wanted to talk. Madison didn’t think it was more questions to do with his thesis. He always started that with a question. Not this time.
<i>Oh, God, he doesn’t want to talk about ‘us’, does he?</i> As far as Madison was concerned there wasn’t an ‘us’. He just gave her what she needed. If he wanted to talk he might want them to get serious. He might want other things too.
Like her pussy.
Madison’s stomach roiled at the thought.
<i>Dirty. Don’t like it. Turns me off.</i>
She knew that. She barely had to think it. It was just how she was. Nothing wrong with that.
He was heading to her desk now. Desperately, Madison wondered what she could do. Maybe she could distract him. Maybe if she trailed her fingers along the hem of the oh-so-short skirt she wore. Short as the skirts she wore every day now. She could pull it just a little higher. Maybe that would have him thinking about doing her arse. Instead of whatever it was he wanted to talk about. It was worth a try.
She’d do anything.
Madison’s fingernail trailed over her thigh, gently tugging the flimsy fabric of her skirt higher. Maybe if she gave him a glimpse of her panties he’d forget whatever it was that he wanted and give her that look. The look that was followed by him glancing at the meeting room door.
And she’d get what she wanted.
Madison smiled. He was looking at her legs. At where her fingernail played at the hem of skirt. He was probably looking at her panties now.
That didn’t worry her. She knew that it should. That she should be cringing in embarrassment at the way she was displaying herself. She felt nothing like that.
She knew what she needed. She’d do anything to get it.
“Like I said, we need to talk.”
<i>Damn it.</i> The frustration didn’t stop what her finger was doing.
“We need to talk about you.”
<i>Huh?</i> Madison didn’t understand that at all. Why did they need to talk about her?
“You want me to fuck your arse.” Well, that was true. He didn’t have to be so blunt about it, embarrassment finally flooding her, but she could hardly argue the point. She needed it. She was dying for it, so wet, no matter how much shame she might feel, her panties exposed, dying for him to take her. Fill her. Lust and mortification warred in her. She had to force herself to concentrate on his words.
“Let’s be honest here. You’ll do anything for it. I told you to wear short skirts, and you have. God, you’re flashing your panties at me now, just begging for my dick in your arse.”
That stopped her finger. It stayed on her thigh, frozen in place, her skirt tugged up, her panties exposed. Madison wanted to curl up into a little ball. Wanted to argue with him. But she couldn’t. Everything Ethan was saying was true.
It didn’t mean she wanted to hear it.
Ethan shot her a reproachful look. “Please don’t want? Fuck your arse? We both know you don’t mean that. So, please don’t talk about this? Too bad. Like I said, you’ll do anything for it. Anything. And we know what that means. I’m going to tell you what you are and you’re going to listen. You’re an addict. You’re addicted to me fucking your arse.”
Something clicked in Madison’s mind. Something that rode over the shame. That burnt with the arousal flooding her. Something she couldn’t ignore or wish away.
<i>I’m an addict. I don’t want to change it. The idea of changing it makes me feel ill.</i> It was that voice, that sure, certain voice, that sounded like hers, was hers. That only told her the truth. And it was telling her the truth now. She was an addict. She was addicted to having her arse fucked. To having Ethan fuck her arse. And she didn’t want to change it. Having Ethan’s cock in her arse was divine. Like the sun shining on her. Like the smell of summer flowers. Like her head was ripped open and raw bliss poured inside. Why would she want to change it? The merest thought of that made her feel ill.
“And we know what an addict will do.”
<i>No, I.</i> Madison’s stomach clenched, hard and tight. Like other things. Madison knew all too well what Ethan meant. After all, what was her thesis about? A mad thought ran around her head, that now that she was an addict it might help her get a different perspective on the topic. She almost laughed.
“Tell me what you’ll do.”
He couldn’t be serious. Couldn’t make her say those things. It was too much, her tongue frozen in her mouth, shame and embarrassment almost topping her need.
But nothing could do that.
She was an addict. The need crawled over her skin, prickling, aching deep inside her, drowning out her thoughts, everything vanishing into the distance except that need.
“Say it. Or you won’t get what you need.”
Realisation dawned on Madison. This was what an addict did. Whatever it took to get what they need. To make that awful ache go away. Anything. He wasn’t asking much. Just a few words. But once she started down this path, once she acknowledged what she was, she knew that there’d be more and more. To get what she wanted.
What she needed.
She needed it so bad.
And it was only a few words. And then maybe he’d help her make that awful empty ache go away and give her the bliss she craved.
“I’ll lie, cheat, steal. I’ll betray my morals, humiliate myself to get what I want. I’ll let myself be abused. I’ll do anything.” The words fell from her lips so easily, as if she’d said them so many times. But it had only been the once, when he’d asked her about it.
It didn’t matter. It was only a few words. A few simple words. Just saying the words didn’t mean she’d actually do any of those things. Even as she thought that Madison recognised it for a rationalisation. That was something else addicts did. Make excuses. Try to ignore what they were doing. Pretend they weren’t that bad. It didn’t matter. She was an addict. She didn’t want to change that.
“Good girl,” Ethan smiled, that lop-sided smile. Madison thought she should object to him referring to her like that, but it only made her feel good. Maybe if she smiled at him he’d give her what she wanted.
“Let’s give you what want then.”
Relief flooded through Madison. She almost skipped to the meeting room. Pulled her panties down and tossed them aside. Bent over that table, her arse exposed, ready.
She needed this.
“Beg for it.”
She didn’t want to do that.
<i>I’m an addict. I’ll do anything.</i> Even as she swallowed nervously Madison knew that the voice was only telling her the truth. She was an addict and she would do anything. And really, it was just more words. She told herself that, even as something in her tried to deny it, tried to tell her that she was giving herself away, piece by piece. She ignored the thought. It didn’t have the certainty of the voice. And anyway, people having sex said all sorts of words. Played all sorts of little games. She wasn’t really begging. Wasn’t really that needy.
She didn’t care.
“Please,” she begged. What did he want? Whining? Pleading? A little girl voice? She settled for just a needy, wanting tone. It was only the truth. Anything to make the ache go away. “Please fuck my arse. God, I need it. I need your cock in my arse. Please.”
It was only words.
Madison’s thoughts dissolved as Ethan gave her what she needed.
“Happy now you’ve had your fix?” Ethan asked, patting her rump.
It took Madison a moment to process his words. She’d cum so hard. So many times. Once his words penetrated the fog over her thoughts she wanted to protest them. But they were only the truth. She’d had her fix. The thing she was addicted to.
What did words matter? What did anything matter with the wonderful bliss that was still rolling through her body?
“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m happy.” Why shouldn’t she be? She’d got what she wanted. Languidly she straightened up, pulled her panties back on.
Ethan just smiled at her, a thin, satisfied smirk. “Let’s get this straight. I’m calling the shots here. I’ve got what you want. You’re an addict and you’ll do what I say.”
<i>No.</i> She wanted to protest. What he said wasn’t right. They were both getting what they wanted. She wasn’t just going to do what he said like some servant.
<i>I’m an addict. I’ll do anything.</i> So he wanted her to beg. So what? It was sort of fun. A game. <i>I didn’t mean it,</i> she told herself, even as she knew the thought for a lie. Even as a tiny piece of the shame trickled back. She’d never done anything like that before, but it was a small price to pay. Only words. If he just wanted that, what did it matter?
“I want you in short skirts and thongs. No panties. When I want to fuck you, I want it easy. If I want to feel you up at any time, you’ll let me. And I want a key to your place.”
Madison gaped at him. He couldn’t be serious. What he was asking was too much. Even if she was an addict there had to be some limits. “No,” she said, half turning to go.
She didn’t get anywhere, Ethan grabbing her by the wrists, forcing her to face him.
“No?” he scoffed. “You serious? How long do you think you could last without me doing you? A day? two? A week? You want to try that?”
Madison tried to speak. There were no words, her mouth dry. A week without her arse being fucked? Even two days? She quailed. Even now, even after what they’d just done she could feel the need, the desperate, aching emptiness his words invoked. She didn’t want that. She wanted to cling to her high. The bliss. She couldn’t do without it.
<i>I’m an addict. I’ll do anything.</i>
And anyway, was he asking that much? She was wearing a short skirt now. Wearing one all the time would just make it easier to get what she wanted. So would thongs. So much easier to push them aside. Let his cock in. What he was asking for would help her was much as it would him.
Feeling her up? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done that already. They’d fucked, she’d sucked his cock. He groped her tits. It wasn’t like she was giving up anything he hadn’t already claimed. It wasn’t as if he’d just do it in public. That would cause as many problems for him as it would for her. He’d have to show some restraint.
Even as she recognised the thoughts for the rationalisations they were, she didn’t care.
And a key to her apartment? Well, if he wanted to do her there, why was that a problem? Her bed would be more comfortable than the table. Less risk of discovery.
It was a small price to pay.
It would all be okay. At least that was what Madison tried to tell herself. It had to be.
And maybe it would be all right. Maybe he’d like her better if she dressed how he asked.
Maybe he’d fuck her arse more often.
“Do you.” Madison stopped, swallowed, tried again. “Do you think I’ll look sexy if I dress like that?”
Ethan’s eyebrows rose. “Short skirts and thongs? Hell, yeah. You’ll look great.”
That was good, wasn’t it? That he’d think that? If he thought she looked sexy then that would make him want to fuck her more. That was good, wasn’t it?
<i>I’m an addict. I’ll do anything.</i>
She had to get what she needed.
Ethan watched as the girl headed back to her desk. Smiled at the slight wiggle of her arse. She went under so easily now. He wondered how many more times he needed to put her under. She’d looked so good, eyes empty and staring, just a little line of drool trailing from her mouth, repeating the instructions he gave her.
“I’m an addict. When you tell me to, I’ll accept that I’m an addict. I won’t want to change it. The idea of changing it makes me feel ill.”
She’d said that so many times, the thoughts sinking into her mind. Becoming part of her. The last part was important. Especially now that he’d made her face what he’d turned her in to. The first step out of addiction was admitting what you were. But he’d needed to get her to that. He could have just given her orders. Like his other slaves. But this was so much more fun. Her thoughts were so plain on her face. The rationalisations she’d made. Each one a little surrender, each one giving up more and more. And now she’d admitted it while she was awake. Knew it. Accepted it.
It didn’t matter that she knew. The second step to escaping addiction was wanting to change. He’d made sure that Madison didn’t want to change. Not just reject the idea, but feel physically ill at it.
There was only one way for her to go.
Madison jumped, a hand closing possessively around her right breast. Ethan’s hand, reaching over her shoulder as she sat at her desk. She should be getting used to it by now. Him feeling up her chest or his hand on her hip, or cupping her arse. But sometimes she didn’t hear him coming. She’d be lost in her work and the first thing she’d know was his hand closing around her breast, tightening.
<i>Please, just fuck my arse. I need it.</i>
At least he was paying attention to her. He had to be thinking about fucking her arse. It was better than him ignoring her.
That wasn’t to say she liked it. Why would she like it, some guy able to just grope and fondle her whenever he wanted? She shouldn’t like it. She didn’t like it. It was embarrassing, shame welling in her. But she didn’t say a word. It had been days since he’d made his demands and she hadn’t protested once.
His hands on her tits was becoming a normal part of her day.
<i>I’ll do anything.</i>
She knew that. Didn’t need that voice telling her she would.
<i>I’m an addict.</i>
She knew that, too. And maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could get used to it. It wasn’t like it was constant. Ethan wasn’t ignoring his work. Neither was she. At least after he fucked her arse every day. Until he did that it was so hard to concentrate, aching need splintering her thoughts, her fix the only thing she could think about. She was wearing the short skirts he’d demanded. And the thongs. She’d even started wearing low cut tops, hoping that might spark his interest.
She didn’t even object when his hand slipped inside those tops, felt her up through her bra.
<i>I’ll let myself be abused. I’ll do anything.</i>
It was just what an addict did.
It was easy to do that when he gave her what she wanted.
Madison arched her back, pressing her chest into his hand. It was almost lunchtime and he hadn’t fucked her yet. Maybe he would now. Maybe if she gave him some encouragement.
“You can use both hands if you want.”
Madison jumped again as Ethan’s other hand reached over her shoulder, cupped her left breast.
“You like this,” he whispered into her ear.
She didn’t, not really. Even if she was so wet. That was just anticipation. Why would she like him just casually fondling her? It was degrading, humiliating.
<i>I’m an addict. I’ll humiliate myself to get what I want. I’ll let myself be abused.</i>
It was only the truth. And maybe it wasn’t so bad. Not really. Maybe a little piece of her did like it. Because of what it promised. Because of what it meant he might do.
Maybe it would be easier if she told herself that she liked it.
“Now get in there,” he ordered, giving her breasts a last squeeze, tweaking her nipples through her bra.
Madison scampered to obey. Why wouldn’t she? She was going to get what she needed.
She was an addict.
“Nice place,” Ethan commented the next evening, looking around.
It wasn’t not really that nice, just a one-bedroom student place. It really only had two rooms, a kitchen/eating area that also held her desk. And a bedroom. A bedroom where he might…
Ethan hadn’t knocked. He’d just let himself in. Why would he need to knock? She’d given him a key. Just liked he’d asked. Well, he hadn’t asked, he’d demanded. But it made it easier, telling herself that he’d asked and she’d agreed. That made it better.
At least a little.
“Do you?” Madison asked, waving vaguely at the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what to do. Would it be better? To try to observe some social niceties? To act like he was a friend visiting her place? Paper over what this was. An addict getting her fix.
<i>I’m an addict. I don’t want to change it.</i>
Why would she? When it felt so good when he fucked her arse? When it made the world drop away, her mind lost in bliss.
“Maybe a coffee or something?’ she added, unsure, as Ethan made no answer.
“Nah,” he replied, giving her that lop-sided grin. “Let’s just get to it. Where’s your bed? Maybe another time I’ll take you over your desk.” Something about that thought seemed to amuse him. Madison couldn’t help glancing at her desk. At her computer, the computer she still stood in front of every night, using the dildo on her arse as she watched porn. He couldn’t know about that, could he? No, it was impossible. It didn’t matter anyway, where he took her wasn’t important.
Just that he did.
He wanted her on her bed.
He was obviously wanting her to do something. Could she? She’d always waited for his signal. Madison realised she was shivering. He hadn’t fucked her arse that day. Just demanded the key from her and told her that he’d be seeing her that night. He’d kept his promise, he was here now. But the day had been so hard, the aching need leaving Madison’s hands shaking so hard she could barely type.
He was standing in the middle of her room, waiting for her.
She knew what he wanted. What she needed.
Madison took him by the hand, led him into her bedroom. She was doing this. Not waiting for his signal. It made her feel more complicit. It didn’t matter. She was an addict. She’d do anything.
“Strip off and lie down on the bed.”
That was better, easier. He was telling her what to do. She didn’t have to think about it. Just imagine what was going to happen, the longing another ache inside her.
Madison removed her clothes. She was naked. It didn’t matter At least that was what she tried to tell herself. Whatever embarrassment she felt didn’t matter, its needles were nothing compared to her need. As long as she got what she wanted nothing mattered.
She lay down on her bed. Face down. He hadn’t said that, but she knew. That way he could take her arse. Lying down she couldn’t see what he was doing. She could hear Ethan removing his own clothes. It wasn’t the same, He’d watched her. She couldn’t watch him.
Another little humiliation.
It didn’t matter. Nothing did.
She felt him join her on the bed.
“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his breath on her ear, his fingers between her legs. His was teasing her pussy, need thrumming through her.
“Yes,” she agreed. It was good, his touch stoking her arousal, making her promises about what was to come. Her eyelids fluttered as his fingers found her clit.
“You’re so wet. So Goddamn <i>wet.</i> God, you’re sopping. You like this, but you don’t want my fingers inside you, do?”
Madison knew what he meant, his fingernails trailing down her labia, the teasing deliciously, painfully good. “No,” she forced out. She didn’t want his fingers in her pussy. She didn’t want anything in there.
<i>Dirty. Don’t like it. Turns me off.</i>
Why was he bothering asking her? They both knew she didn’t like that.
“No, you don’t want it,” he laughed. Something about the situation seemed to be vastly amusing to him. “But you are so fucking wet. Maybe your pussy’s just a lube dispenser. Should I use it like that?”
There was something cruel about his voice. Maybe he was just enjoying teasing her, humiliating her.
It didn’t matter. If he wanted to use her pussy like that, he could. She’d let him.
She’d do anything.
Madison didn’t say anything. She just lay there. A moan escaped her lips as his fingers, cold and slick with lube, moved to her arsehole, readied her, circling and teasing, drawing out her anticipation, leaving her breathless with need. Then those fingers were back at her pussy, tracing along her length. Then they were gone. “Just adding the last of the lube,” Ethan voice whispered in her ear. She knew what was happening. He was adding her juices to the lube on his cock. He was using her pussy for more lube, just as he’d said he would. So he could…
Madison gasped, thoughts disintegrating, as she felt the tip of his cock at the entry to her arse. This what she needed. This was what she was burning for. Her hips rose, reflexively, his cock slipping inside, so easily, wet with the lube and her juices. Her arse accepted it so easily now.
It felt so much better every time.
Quickly they settled into a rhythm, her hips driving down as he pulled back, his cock never quite leaving her arse, the tip still inside her, filling her. Then her hips pushing up as he thrust down, filling her, taking her, hot, raw, pleasure flooding her body, over and over again.
Something about this seemed more. Maybe, lying on her bed, Ethan was able to plunge even deeper, fill her, so much better. He was taking her, taking her on her bed, her nipples grazing across her sheets, friction on her clit. This was her place, her space. Where she should be safe.
His cock was filling her arse, impaling her, she was squirming on it, impaled, held under him.
Madison did feel safe, her arse so full with his cock, her back arching, a moan escaping her lips as her mind swam in bliss.
It was so right, exactly what she wanted.
What she needed. To make the make the pain go away, to untie the desperate knot in her stomach. To be able to function.
She was an addict. She didn’t care, as long as she got what she needed.
Every thrust was driving her closer, she was teetering on the edge. This was it. What she lived for. She pushed back, so hard, Ethan so deep in her.
Madison came, collapsing on the bed, her limbs shaking.
Ethan didn’t stop.
She didn’t want him to.
And then he was cumming too, his seed filling her bowels.
She’d had her fix.
“Drop for me Madison.”
(To be continued)