Compulsion

by Don Julian Winslow

  “It’s working!” Kyle hissed in gleeful elation, as all three crowded closer to the glass.

  It was incredible, but true! The collar was indeed working -- and on a real live girl! The collar had first been developed at EBS labs where Mark once worked – a top secret government project. They could never seem to get the thing to work, and eventually let the project die. But Mark watched their experiments closely, intrigued. He had some ideas on how the thing might be made to work. It wasn’t easy but he managed to get his hands on a prototype, and soon he began his own experiments. He needed the help of some guys he could trust, but when they realized what he was up to, there was no shortage of volunteers. It took several months of work, but now they had the thing ready, all they needed was to try it out.

  The collar contained a programmed sequence of impulses that initiated a cascade of biochemical reactions in the brain stem, just at the base of the neck. Initially there’s a feeling of mild euphoria, a feeling that persists until a new sequence is initiated. A few keystrokes and the entire sequence had been triggered.

  The real stroke of genius was Ted’s idea. Unlike the others, Ted wasn’t a techie. He was a grad student, in psychology, and he had the idea of pairing the induced pleasurable state with the sight of a male in the female subject’s proximity. Now the excited guys slipped on the black silk masks they had bought at the costume shop, and prepared to enter the room where their subject waited, basking in a glow of good feelings.

  Joyce stared wide-eyed as the door opened, but before she could react, there was a shearing hiss inside her head, like someone tearing a piece of paper. The world suddenly shifted in a blur that lasted a fraction of a second. And when the world snapped back into place, Joyce found herself staring at three men, masked men who stood perfectly still looking at her. Her reaction of alarm was never fully formed. It was instantly suppressed, and the feeling that arose was one of eager anticipation. She was inanely pleased, happy that these men should come to see her. The next series of electronic commands had Joyce suddenly seized with a strong desire to shed her clothes, an uncontrollable urge to be naked before them. She was gripped in an overwhelming need: to expose herself, to tear off her clothes, and stand naked before them.

  She instinctively knew these men wanted her; her excitement flared. She flushed; a dry constriction tightened in her throat. Moving as in a dream, she got to her feet to face them. Her palms were sweating, and there was an odd tingling in her wrists. The anticipation of being exhibited brought to the rising urge a terrible power that swept everything else away. She was left with a palpable, surging desire to reveal herself to these strangers, to be free of all her clothes.

  The actual thought of taking off her clothes never quite formed in her mind. It hung there, just beyond her sensory awareness. She simply knew instinctively -- she was to strip. Her hands moved with a life of their own. She slipped out of the jacket of the cream-colored suit she wore, and tossed it aside. Without pause, her shaking hands snatched at the collar of her shiny navy blue blouse, fumbling fingers attacking button after button, working their way down the front in a heated rush. She twisted her shoulders out of the blouse, undid the cuffs and frantically tore the loose blouse off, letting them see her lacy beige colored brassiere.

  Watching the eyes of the men to see their reactions, she reached up behind, undid the catch and drew the straps down over her shoulders, baring her tight young breasts for all to see. Their leader, tall with a shock of thick dark hair, nodded to her, and she preened, feeling incredibly sexy, and desirable, and wanted.

  Her trembling hands worked open the little zipper at the side of the narrow skirt. She grabbed two handfuls of the tight skirt, yanked it down her hips, and bent forward, letting her swaying breasts dangle out towards them, as she kept her eyes on the men, watching their eyes as she let the crumpled skirt drop to the floor to settle in a puddle ringing her ankles.

  The pantyhose were next. The men watched her step out of the skirt and kick it aside, feeling marvelously free. Sitting on the bed she slipped off her pumps, then struggled with the clinging pantyhose, pulling them free tossing them aside to join the discarded clothing strewn about the room.

  Now the tingling, bare-breasted girl stood before three fully-aroused men in nothing but her panties and the silver collar that ringed her neck. But she wasn’t finished. She had to be naked – and she knew it; totally nude! She had no choice. She simply had to show them her body! Hooking her thumbs into her hip-huggers, she slipped them down and quickly stepped out of them, to adopt a pose that would reveal herself totally to her watchers, putting her hands on her hips, arching her back, and widening her stance, proudly exhibiting her nude body, her small tight breasts out-thrust for their admiration; expanded nipples, hard and tingling, and the proud dusky bush, that was moistening even now, between her quivering, boldly-splayed legs.

  The eager men crowded closer, and an electric thrill shot through the girl. She was totally alive, wonderfully, excitingly naked before three lusty, sexually aroused, fully-clothed men! She was hyper-aware of them, of their being men, with cocks and balls, fully-erected penises, stiff and hard, that tented the front of their pants. She was woman; her heightened sense of awareness resonating to the masculine presence in the closeness of that small warm room. The smell of sex was in the air, the hint of musk that made her tingle.

  Once more, there was that shearing hiss inside her head. The world blurred in a giddy shift and abruptly solidified, to leave her panting, hot…and incredibly horny! She could taste the gnawing hunger for sex in her watering mouth, her pussy, all through an aching, throbbing body that was shaking with lust. Men excited her; brought a tingling to her loins.

  Her eyes fluttered, and she was breathing heavily through moist, parted lips. She never took her eyes off the masked men, looking at them through eyes that were half-lidded with lust. Waiting for them; wanting those healthy, randy males. She quivered. She experienced a hot flash; felt bathed in sweat. She was eager to get her hands on these guys, to feel their hard masculine bodies, but she couldn’t move. She was rooted to the spot.

  “Damn this chick is hot!” the excited whisper of the thin, wiry guy sent a stab of lust through her. “Yeah, look at that! You can see her nipples stickin’ right out!” the stocky blond guy chimed in.

  The dark-haired leader said not a word as he stepped closer and reached out to caress a proffered breast. The others watched in awe as he came to within inches of the naked girl, and looked into her widened eyes. He smiled at her as he fingered the silky handful of Joyce’s floppy little tit. The woman surged forward, mewing with pleasure at the man’s touch, and she couldn't help thrusting her breast onto his palm, grinding it into the fondling masculine hand. A blinding flash of orgasmic pleasure raced through her, and she moaned as he gently squeezed that captive boob, and when he took that sensate nipple between his fingers, she went weak in the knees and almost swooned.

  When he abruptly quit her throbbing tit, the girl whimpered at the sudden loss. But she was soon consoled as he was to offer an even more intimate caress, this time by placing a large masculine hand squarely between her legs. Now he rubbed her there, palming her furry vulva so that Joyce writhed in passion, squirming against his hand, and moaning low through her panting mouth. She whimpered. Her hips bucked forward driving her needy pussy into the cupping hand that held her by her damp, churning sex. In a flash, an electrifying climax seized her, and she convulsed, capturing the pleasuring hand between her clenching thighs as her entire body shook with the power of her first orgasm.

  In the next room, the unseen computer sent the next precisely timed command. The shearing shift tore through her, and when the real world snapped back into place, the familiar tingling came over her. The still-reeling woman automatically slid to her knees, to kneel before the tall lean legs of the man who stood over her. Her eyes adored his bulging crotch.

  Here was a man! A man with the delicious promise of a cock, hanging down, growing and thicken
ing between his legs, just behind the tight-mounded denim of his jeans. A cock that was swelling and stiffening with arousal…because he was looking at her! It was a cock that had a life of its own. It was pressing toward her, eager to break free of the confining layers of clothing. That cock pulsed for her, wanted her, and she wanted that cock! She licked her lips and tore into his jeans, hardly able to control her shaking hands as they attacked the belt buckle. She had to have that cock!

  With his loosened jeans accordiened down past his knees, she neared the tented shape of that solid erection that she saw was straining against his white jockey shorts, and she couldn’t help kissing his crotch. Frantic, she snatched at the guy’s underpants, yanked them down, to release the most gorgeous cock she had ever seen! It sprung up before her alive and vibrant, quivering just inches from her eyes. With her attention riveted on the taut penis quivering before her, she hardly noticed the other two guys who, having dropped their pants, now moved in on the kneeling girl, one at either side, their naked cocks at the ready.

  Now the passion-driven girl threw her hands around the half-naked man, clutched his butt, as she drew his loins to her. She tightened her grip as she took the plunge, diving in to press her face into his crotch, and there to root beneath his hanging balls, inhaling deeply, drinking in the heady musky masculine smell that impregnated the moist pubic hair in which her nose was buried. Turning her face, so that she could nuzzle there. She rubbed her soft cheek up and down the length of that beautiful penis. The smell of the sweat of his groin, mingled with masculine musk, was simply intoxicating. And the feel of his hard, throbbing a manhood against the side of her face, gave her a heavenly thrill.

  Seized by a lustful frenzy, she reached for him. Slim fingers closed around the upright cock, and she held her man in a firm grip, tightened her fist, clutching him with a surge of possessive urgency. The words “cock-sucker” floated into her mind. She gave him a quick yank and he groaned, and his helpless moan of pleasure, sent a wild thrill rocketing through her.

  Bowing her head, she kissed the taut swollen knob, then opened her lips to slide them wetly down the rigid shaft, taking him into her mouth. Sliding the taut ring of her lips down his throbbing cock, she drew deeply, hollowing her cheeks as she bobbed up and down in long, deliciously shivering strokes.

  She was busy, happily sucking cock, when someone took her hands and placed them on even more cocks. More exciting cocks! She squeezed her new-found toys, gripped them in a death grip, yanked hard, heard the young men groan, as the passion powered up in her.

  The girl was working hard. As she bobbed mindlessly up and down on the gleaming wet cock. She was mechanically pumping the two fistfuls of pricks she held, causing groans to greet her ears as the men staggered under the determined attack. From somewhere, the thought came to her: she was naked, and on her knees, and jacking off two men while she went down on a third -- pleasuring all three simultaneously in orgy of raw lust. She was a slut. A whore. A cocksucker!

  She felt her rocking head being clamped between cradling hands. Strong fingers dug into her long silky hair, curled around to cup the back of her head, guiding her. She speeded up, pumping furiously, sucking cock with grim determination.

  The renewed surge, caused his hands to tighten on her undulating head, and the man staggered back. She heard the animal grunts he made through clenched teeth as he held her tight and his hips began to buck in instinctive pelvic thrusts -- fucking her face while she masturbated the others. Her fists were pumping with such urgency that the helpless captives could do no more than moan and arch back on either side of her.

  The man she was pleasuring with her mouth groaned, arched up threw back his head and gave out with a long, shivering moan. There were others sounds, rutting sounds of male lust, as the other two neared their climax while she fingered their throbbing cocks and pumped vigorously.

  The cocks she clutched began to twitch in her hands; someone grunted. The first strings of cum exploded to arc down and splatter on her hair. A second later, the unstoppable rise of toe-curling pleasure seized the leader, shook him, and he arched back and came in a shuddering climax.

  His hips abruptly jerked back, freeing his pulsating cock. He grabbed his throbbing manhood and aimed the erupting head right at the cocksucker to lay a thick line of cum across her forehead and down the side of her face, moving the ejaculating head to paint Joyce’s pretty face with his surging, creamy cum.

  Joyce shut her eyes tight and turned her face up to accept this male offering, as she felt the other cocks begin pulsing in her hands. The owners took themselves in hand, just as their leader had done to add their sperm to his.

  A slimy trail of spunk was left deposited on her forehead. A line of cum was laid down along her nose. It puddled under one eye, and even her brows and lashes were thickened with the sticky stuff. Thick wads of gooey semen oozed down her cheeks, smeared her lips, and dribbled down her chin in long sticky strands. Drops of their discharge even fell on her neck and breasts – wads of cum splattering her heaving, sweaty chest. It took less than a minute for the men to deposit their spunk on the kneeling girl.

  She knelt before them, her face dripping with the cum of three lusty men – man cream decorating her crisp features like a sticky spider web. Her dark brown hair, even her eyelashes, were festooned with gooey strings of the glistening stuff.

  Now the surging lust that was growing in Joyce exploded. An irresistible upwelling of pure ecstatic pleasure seized her, and she grabbed at her crotch, holding herself. Squeezing her needy pussy, she humped her hand, and ground her clit on her palm. She screeched, and she and came, again and again, in string of rapid-fire convulsive orgasms that obliterated everything else.

  It seemed a long time till she came back to earth, to find herself still kneeling at the feet of the men with their depleted cocks, hanging limply before her. She knelt slumped over, with huddled shoulders heaving in the afterglow. The semen was drying on her face; her bedraggled, cum-splattered hair was matted to her forehead. Loose, damp strands hung limply over her bare shoulders.

  Incredibly, the naked, collared girl felt a renewal of that overwhelming surge of passion. She wanted more. She had become insatiable, wallowing in rutting, animal lust. Her sensually-alive body was drenched from hot, sweaty sex, yet she wanted more. A shearing shift hissed through her head, and yet another wave of incredible horniness to sweep over her, leaving her panting, desperately horny. Joyce wanted more; had to have more. She wanted to be fucked!

  8. 707 Park Avenue

  ________________________________________________________________________

  Every once in a while there comes along a story of individuals, inexorably compelled to perform sexual acts by means that are sometimes covert, often nefarious, but always highly effective. In the course of this literature one encounters various methods of inducing compliance -- but the time-honored techniques of hypnoses offer perhaps the most intriguing possibilities for allowing our most secret fantasies to come blossoming forth.

  ________________________________________________________________________

  The attractive blonde felt a twinge of embarrassment, and quickly looked down, pretending to study the notes on the clipboard she held in her lap. For some reason, this guy alone, of all her patients, had an unsettling effect on her.

  She knew he was watching her; watching her every move. She could feel the heat of his gaze on the side of her face. In her eight years as a psychotherapist she had never been so affected by a patient, although she had learned quickly how to deal with passes from male patients, while always maintaining her professional

  cool. Till now, that is.

  "Are you alright, Dr. Heywood?" The young man, who reminded her of Tom Cruse, leaned toward her sending a shock of thick black hair falling down across his brow, while looking up at her with concern in his searching gray eyes -- those terrible eyes of his.

  "Huh...yes,...I'm ok, I think. I just felt a little warm, that's all. I'm alright now."
Her words came out shaky and hesitant. Not at all the calm, competent tone she adopted so readily the minute a patient came in for a session. She took a deep breath, determined to pull herself together.

  "Ah...let's go on, Benjamin. We were talking about your problems with girls, I believe. You were saying that you thought you had some sort of ESP, and it was affecting your relationships?"

  "Oh, that! That can wait," he dismissed his own concerns as trivial, while edging his chair closer to hers.

  "You don't look too good Dr. Heywood." His voice was soft, surprisingly tender. "I hope you're not coming down with something?"

  She was looking down as he shifted forward in his chair till their knees were practically touching. She could feel his genuine concern; the voice of a man who cared for her, who wanted to take care of her. She shook off the silly thought. He wasn't even a man, after all, just a college boy, barely out of adolescence, and a patient besides! She was the professional here; she was here to help him, not the other way around! Then why was it she suddenly felt like a fumbling schoolgirl in the young guy's presence? Why did she have such a hard time meeting his steady gaze?

  Why did she melt when he flashed her that boyish smile of his? She shook her head. She simply had to get a grip on herself!

  She nervously raked clawed fingers through her short blond hair, and passed a trembling hand over her brow, finding it moist and warm. She felt flushed all over. It was as if a hot flash that had suddenly come over her, but that was absurd! Bethany Heywood was in her middle 30s, much too young to be having hot flashes. She shook her head and gave her patient a weak smile that was meant to be reassuring. It was the best she could do.

  "It is kinda hot in here," Benjamin allowed. "Maybe you'd be more comfortable if you took off your jacket?" he suggested helpfully reaching out to pat her shoulder with solicitous concern. His touch startled her, and something quickened in her. 'This really is not appropriate,' she told herself. Yet, there was this tenderness, the gentle caring in his voice. Should she take off her jacket? She was suddenly confused. It sounded like it might be the right thing to do.