Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic mind control fiction with elements of coerced sexual activity; all characters are 18+
**MIND CONTROLLED BY MY TEACHER: Book 1**
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*Aiden Grace’s POV*
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“Aiden Grace, to the front of the room, please,” Mrs. Pennyworth calls out.
I swallow and smooth down my pleated skirt, rising to stand with an awkward slowness. What the hell did I do to draw her attention to me? It’s not fair; Mary Anne and Susie were the ones giggling and chatting—not me. I was minding my own business and trying to pay attention to the lecture. Perhaps I was nibbling on my pencil a little too much and getting lost in my own thoughts (mostly revolving around my boyfriend, Bruce), but still, I was being quiet and don’t deserve what’s coming to me.
The whole classroom falls silent, only my uneasy footfalls casting soft thuds across the room. No one likes Mrs. Pennyworth. She’s a stern woman, with soulless black eyes and raven hair, and everyone jokes that she might be a witch. Rumors of her cruelty circulated through the entire senior class when Mrs. Pennyworth had been transferred to our small, rural high school to teach life skills such as financial responsibility, writing a resume, or applying for college. The life skills were a valuable asset to our Podunk town’s lack of proper education, but Blair Pennyworth’s reputation quickly dampened the enthusiasm everyone had about learning.
These rumors flitter through my mind with each step I take towards her tall, lean frame:
*‘I heard she made James Avery drink his own piss’*, I remember a nervous girl whispering on the day after Pennyworth arrived. *‘I heard she made him* like *it….’—‘That’s nothing’,* another girl had said, *‘I heard that they chased her out of the last town she lived in, because she bewitched all the husbands and made them cheat on their wives . . . Right in front of their faces.’*
“Do you know why I called you to the front of the room, Miss Grace?”
I stare up into her black eyes, unnerved by the way it makes me feel like I’m falling down a deep, dark hole. She’s not an ugly woman by far—in fact many might consider her some sort of classic beauty—but she’s definitely creepy, with her expressionless face and cold voice.
“No ma’m,” I say politely, not daring to look away from her.
For some insane reason, I fear that she might claw out my eyes if I dare to break the lock of our gaze. My heart thunders in my ears and I can feel it like a tight bulge in my throat.
“What were you daydreaming about, Miss Grace?”
Heat rushes to my face and I stammer, “Well I—Well, I don’t know….”, even though I *do* know and for some reason, I also (terrifyingly) know that *she* knows, too.
“Yes, you do, dear. Tell me what you were daydreaming about,” she demands softly.
A warm coil wraps around my mind and my mouth starts forming the words before I can stop it. “Bruce Jenkins kissing me behind the bleachers after the football game last Saturday. I let him stick his hand up my skirt. He made me cum with his fingers….”
I gasp and begin to shake as the coil slips away, my body trembling in horror. Why the hell had I just admitted to all that? Mrs. Pennyworth smirks at me, her dark eyes dancing with something like amusement. I want to run out of the room and hide in the girl’s bathroom for a long cry, especially with the few titters I hear breaking out behind me (Oh God, Bruce is sitting in the back row, too—and he’s probably absolutely fucking mortified), but I still can’t look away from my teacher’s smug face.
“Mister Jenkins, fornicating on school grounds is strictly prohibited,” she says, never taking her eyes off of mine. “Please join Miss Grace at the front of the classroom….”
I feel a pain in my neck from gazing up at her for so long, but I still can’t move a muscle, can’t bear to look away. Something very bad will happen if I do. I don’t know what—but I can feel a niggling thread of certainty inside me: *Keep your eyes on me, dear.*
Bruce’s heavy footsteps are loud behind me, but then they stop as he reaches my side. I can feel his eyes on me, wondering why the hell I said those things and got him involved in this mess. Tears burn and blur my vision, but still I keep looking at Mrs. Pennyworth, even when she turns to look at Bruce.
“Care to refute or explain the situation Miss Grace shared with us further?”
“No, thank you,” Bruce says, and my blood runs cold when our teacher laughs.
“I was being polite. Explain in detail, now.”
Her eyes are locked onto his, although she has to tilt her head up a little instead of getting to stare down. It reminds me of a mean cat cowing a scared dog; she’s still obviously in charge, and Bruce barely hesitates before he says, “Aiden wanted to show me something after the game. We went behind the bleachers and she lifted her skirt, just flashing me with a view of her ass in a tiny red thong. She’s usually such a prude that I was shocked. I mean, she only just let me feel up her tits last week . . . and we’ve both been eighteen for months. Got carried away and started kissing and touching her. She let me slip my fingers past the flimsy barrier of the thong. Her pussy was so warm and wet. It felt like a greedy mouth sucking on my finger—”
Embarrassment and adrenaline course through me in equal measure until I can’t concentrate on Bruce’s retelling of our private moment together any longer. Why is Pennyworth doing this to us? What did we ever do to her? Her eyes flick to mine like she can tell I’m no longer listening and she says, “That’s enough, Mister Jenkins. Let’s have dear Aiden sit down. She’s looking rather pale….” She pauses and gestures to her own chair. “Sit, Miss Grace.”
I don’t want to sit in her chair but my body begins to move towards it anyway, like my brain is leashed to her words. It’s such a strange feeling—like I have no control over myself, like I’ll be in extreme pain if I try to fight it or refuse. As I take the seat, a sense of warm accomplishment fills me, like I’ve done what I was meant to do, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a growing tension. It feels weird to have both Bruce and Mrs. Pennyworth so close that they nearly tower over me. Almost like this is a set-up for something worse than admitting to getting fingered and then having the story retold in graphic detail by the boy I love. Almost like Blair Pennyworth is about to make me play the audience for a surprise show. Almost like she’s going to make me really regret both daydreaming in her class and having the nerve to do something so scandalous in what she probably views as her school.
“I think we should see what all the fuss is about, don’t you class?” She smiles at me, though it doesn’t reach her dead eyes, and then she turns her smile to Bruce. My heart stops beating in my chest and then kickstarts hard when she says, “Show me what the fuss is about, Mister Magic-Fingers.”
“No!” I cry out, nearly making to stand before she whirls on me and says, “Sit down and be silent!”
My lips press together tightly and I slump back in the seat, my muscles going slack even though I want to scream, I want to fight. Bruce approaches our teacher as she leans against her desk, her slender hands pulling up the long skirts of her formal dress. My eyes nearly bug out of my head as I take in the smooth bare skin of her legs, trailing *up-up-up* to the glistening lips of her perfectly shaved pussy. She’s not wearing any underwear; why in God’s name isn’t she wearing any underwear?
But I can’t ask that, or anything else, as I sit limply in the chair and watch the horror show begin. My boyfriend, and the love of my life, is reaching out to skim his fingers up her thigh, his breathing stuttering slightly as skin touches skin. Is he enjoying the view? Or what she’s making him do to her? Is he going to get all hot and bothered like he did with me?
I remember very vividly how as I climaxed he groaned into my ear, and then a few moments after he pressed his hard-on into my hip, whispering, “This is what you’ve done to me….”
I’d been too shy to touch him back and there were also noises of people drawing close to our secret hideout, so he’d given me a quick kiss goodbye and then rejoined his teammates and friends. It’d made me worry that he might be a little mad at me. It’d made me feel like I’d robbed him of something, or been selfish somehow.
Mrs. Pennyworth’s moan draws me out of my reverie, and I close my eyes just after I see Bruce slide his fingers over her slit.
“Watch, Miss Grace.”
Fucking hell, the great bitch! My eyes fly open, and I try to turn them to the classroom—to see the expressions of my fellow students watching this insane show—but they remain fixed on Bruce as he rubs slow circles around her clit (I still don’t know where he’d learned to do that, and I don’t think I’ll ever ask).
“He *is* good at this….” my teacher purrs. “Where did you acquire such skills, young man?”
“On my eighteenth birthday, my dad bought me a hooker and told her to teach me some stuff.”
I whimper internally, still bound by Mrs. Pennyworth’s demand that I remain silent, and glare at the both of them. His birthday was a day before we made it official, but we’d still been hanging out and holding hands (and maybe kissing a little bit, too) for a few weeks before that. I thought he was a good guy; I’d never have guessed he’d already lost his virginity, and to a sex worker of all people.
“I think that may have broken little Aiden’s heart, Bruce! Let’s have her stand up and come over here so you can kiss her all better.”
I know what’s going to happen next, but it still surprises me that when she says, “Aiden, come over here,” that my legs just listen—even though I want to die in this chair or run somewhere far away. I definitely don’t want to be anywhere near them. And I definitely don’t want Bruce to kiss me.
“You two will make-out while Bruce continues to stimulate me. Now.”
I shiver as he pulls me close to him with his free hand. I can smell Mrs. Pennyworth’s sharp perfume and a hint of her musky arousal, as well as Bruce’s crisp body-spray and the cinnamon gum he loves chewing. It’s on his breath as his mouth meets mine, and then our tongues are twisting together (and I can taste it), as though we’re young and in love and eager to French kiss anywhere and everywhere.
“Finger me, Mister Jenkins, as you continue to kiss your girlfriend—from her mouth to her breasts….”
I’m horrified as his mouth moves down my throat, leaving hot wet trails while one of his hands lifts my shirt and the other begins to finger our teacher. I watch as he slips one finger inside her, pushing it in and out with sickening ease, and then he adds another—making her breath hitch and her voice go husky.
“Good job, Bruce. It looks like Aiden didn’t dress up for us today.”
My bra is plain and white because I didn’t expect it would be put on display for our entire class, although I don’t know if I would have worn anything prettier had I known. Bruce tugs it off roughly anyway, making the straps cut into me before they snap, and I can’t even gasp because I’ve still been instructed to be silent, and the vice around my mind won’t let me disobey.
Heat floods low in my belly as Bruce wraps his lips around one of my exposed nipples, the cool air making goosebumps break out across my skin except where his warm, wet mouth sucks.
“Watch your boyfriend make me cum, Aiden,” Mrs. Pennyworth demands. “And he’s going to cum right as I do while you go nearly mad with jealousy….”
I swallow and a tear leaks down my cheek as she begins to grind against his hand, one of her stockinged feet slipping from her black pumps so that she can press her toes into my boyfriend’s crotch. I wish I could beg her to stop, because it hurts so bad watching this that it feels like some sort of torture. Especially because she’s making me participate, with a damp tension coiling in between my legs and making me want to press against him, too. He still has one free hand, just holding my shirt up as he suckles on my left breast—it could easily slip up my skirt and pleasure me, too. I hate that I want that. I hate that I want to get to cum with them, too.
The witch seems to read my thoughts and her mouth twists in amusement. “None for you today, slut. Bruce is going to give your orgasm to me….”
She moans as he begins to finger her faster and deeper, the slick-wet sounds of him delving into her making my head swimmy, making me both turned on and sick. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe my teacher is getting off with my boyfriend in front of our entire class. I can’t believe his erection is throbbing under where her toes meet his jeans, making a wet spot on the blue. She rubs him up and down, *up and down*, until his breath grows as ragged as hers, and they are both moaning and tensing together.
His mouth opens wide against my breast as he cums, his breath hot, and her toes curling as I watch his cock pulse like a heartbeat under the denim of his pants. Her loud moan echoes through the room and I want to shove her straight over her desk as her eyes lock onto mine, burning with something predatory—something entirely too satisfied.
“And there we have it class,” she says huskily, pushing Bruce’s hand away (it looks very wet; stringy, clear fluids hang from his fingers). “Miss Grace has good reason to be distracted during lecture. But should she find herself tempted by the ways of the flesh in my classroom, or in the general vicinity of this school again, I might just have to see what she can offer in the ways of pleasure instead.”
She pushes down her skirts and stands, smiling primly as she slips her high-heel back on over her stockinged foot. “Do we understand each other, Aiden?”
I nod at her, my heart still burning with anger but fear clouding my brain. I know she’ll make me do stuff to her if I dare to disrespect her classroom or the school again, and I hate her for it. I hate her for making me watch my boyfriend get her off. I hate her for the way she got him off and for driving him so mad that he’s panting and steadying himself with one hand on her desk (the other still weirdly gripping my shirt). Overall, I hate that I’m horny despite my disgust over what just happened—and that she must know all this, too.
“Class, you are dismissed. None of you will remember this after passing through my classroom door. Only Aiden Grace will remember. And she won’t say a goddamn thing to anyone about it, now will she?”
A sob escapes me as Bruce lets go of his hold on my shirt and backs away from us, his expression blank. How could she do this to me? To make me remember something so awful and not be able to confide it to anyone? Why is she such an evil bitch?
I find myself nodding at her anyway, because obviously I’m not going to say anything and look like an absolute nutcase when no one else will remember.
“Good girl,” she whispers. “You may finger yourself when you get home, but you shall think of your boyfriend and I together to reach climax, remembering every little detail of today’s *special* event….” She taps me gently on the lips, her face splitting into a gruesome grin. “Don’t test my patience in the future, girl. This pretty mouth of yours would have felt nicer than your boyfriend’s fingers, I bet. You are dismissed.”
The classroom is empty when I turn around to leave. My mind races with so many hideous thoughts that I can barely process anything when I make a mad-dash out of the school, ignoring Bruce’s confused, “Aiden, where’s the fire?”, desperate to get home and relieve myself of this awful ache between my thighs. Even though my teacher didn’t demand it, I need to follow her suggested instructions to be set free. It’s the only way. I must listen. I must obey her. I must finish myself off while I envision Bruce’s fingers pleasuring her senseless, but first I think I’ll fantasize about her holding my head between her thighs….
—–
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed Book 1 of my series: [Mind Controlled By My Teacher](https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1165941?ref=WinwoodErotica); check it out to follow Aiden’s journey of being corrupted by her sexy, dominating teacher. Also, currently all of my bundles are 50% OFF for Smashwords’ end of year sale! If you enjoy my work, consider purchasing an e-book [HERE](https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/55306?ref=WinwoodErotica)!
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/zzgqub/mind_controlled_by_my_teacher_1_f30sf18m18