The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Saya was cleaning out her son’s backpack when a paper fell out and onto the floor.

She only caught one word before Adnan saw it and snatched it away from her.

“ADDICTION”.

“I’m so sorry, mom,” her son said, red-faced. “That bastard Darren...”

“Language!” Saya snapped, but her mind was reeling. Addiction. The word that had been plaguing her since that fateful day, the idea that she could barely stand, the idea that she was trying—and completely failing—to push out of her head...

“What was that?” she asked, and her blushing son shook his head.

“He’s been putting them in my bag every day,” he said, refusing to meet his mother’s eyes.

“What is it?”

“He’s just a bully,” Adnan said. “Please, mom. It’s nothing.”

Saya didn’t often press her son, but she had to know. “Show me, paşam.”

“Please, mom. It’s nothing.”

“If it’s nothing, you can show me,” she insisted.

“It’s a...it’s a pamphlet. For...sex addicts. It’s just his dumb way of tormenting me. Please, mom. Can we not talk about this?”

Saya stared at her son, and a sudden chill went down her spine.

Sex addicts.

Sex addicts.

Of course. She’d been so preoccupied with her addiction that she hadn’t even considered that...she might not be the only one.

There were people, out there, who dealt with this. Who had the same urges. The same desires.

There was a way to get help.

Saya had never considered that there might be groups out there, groups like AA or NA. Why would she have? Until recently, she’d never considered that she could be...that she was...

...an addict.

A sex addict.

Sex addict.

“Show me,” she said, her voice low, trying to hide her desperation. At her son’s hesitance, Saya shot him a look. “I’m not completely sheltered, you know. I can handle a few words on a flyer.”

With a sigh, Adnan pulled the folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. She glanced at it, trying to act as though she wasn’t interested, as though this pamphlet didn’t represent the only hope she’d had in a week. The only chance she had at salvation, at getting help.

Perhaps there was a cure.

She glanced at it; it was for a meeting the next night, Friday, from seven until eight pm. Saya memorized the details, then rolled her eyes theatrically. “If this is the worst Darren can do,” she said, handing the pamphlet back to her son, “then he’s pretty pathetic.”

Adnan shrugged. “Yeah. I know. I just...I didn’t want to upset you, mom. It’s just...stupid, you know? You’re not a sex addict.”

“Of course not,” Saya replied, the words turning to ash in her mouth.

At six fifty pm the next night, Saya was outside the small church hall. She’d been to Christian churches before, of course—weddings, baptisms, funerals...her daughter had even briefly aspired to be a dancer, and the classes were held in a room not unlike this one.

But she’d never been to one at night. And never in a million years would she have guessed that she’d find herself sneaking away from her family to attend a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting in a church.

She was the first one there, but over the next few minutes a few others trickled in. A couple of men, two women. They were all older than her, and—Alhamdulillah—she didn’t recognize any of them.

She took a seat towards the back of the room and tried not to make eye with anyone. As the clock ticked closer and closer to seven, she started to wonder if this was all a mistake. If anyone recognized her, if any of the attendees told their wives or husbands that a Muslim woman was there, if they described her and word got back to her husband...

...she would never be able to explain it to her husband. To her family.

She’d be just as ruined as if she gave into her wicked urges and showed her body to a man that wasn’t her husband.

“Good evening,” a voice called, and Saya jumped in her chair. She looked up to see an older woman standing at the front of the hall.

“My name is Carol,” the woman said. “And I’m a sex addict.”

After a beat, several other spoke: “Hi, Carol,” they said.

Saya stayed silent.

“Welcome, everyone,” the leader continued. “Now, I know we have a few new faces here tonight, and we’re glad to have you. Would anyone like to start us off?”

The silence was deafening, and Saya shrank back in her chair, afraid to draw attention.

Finally, one of the men raised his hand. “Hello, everyone,” he said. “My name is Tom, and I’m a sex addict.”

Carol smiled. “Hello, Tom.”

“My wife found my stash,” he said. “I’ve been clean for two years, but...I never threw out my collection. I knew I should, but I…I just couldn’t.”

Saya relaxed as the meeting continued. No one was doing as she did, glancing around at the other attendees. Everyone’s attention was on the current speaker—first Tom, then a woman called herself Bethany who itted that her husband had walked in on her with a stranger, and now the third—whose name was apparently Jean—who was speaking quietly, her gaze was fixed firmly on the floor.

“My husband doesn’t know,” she was saying. “I don’t want him to know.”

Saya found herself nodding. Jean was clearly ashamed of her urges, the way Saya was. And, like Saya, she knew that if her husband found out, it would destroy her marriage.

It would destroy her life.

“There’s a man who flirts with me,” she sobbingly confessed. “And I know—I just know—that...I’m going to give in. I’ll have an affair. He’s so handsome, and so charming, and my husband is always busy, and...“

“But you haven’t cheated,” Carol said gently, and Saya’s eyes filled with tears at Jean’s response.

“Not yet. But...I will.”

“It’s not too late,” Carol insisted. “We can help you, Jean. We’re all in this together.”

Saya watched the proceedings, enraptured. There was so much shame, but so much understanding as well. She’d been part of the Turkish community and the Muslim community and the community of parents at her son’s school...but for the first time in her life, Saya felt like she’d found a group that she truly needed.

A group where she truly belonged.

“Does anyone else have anything they’d like to share?” Carol asked.

For a moment, Saya thought she might raise her hand. She’d been listening to the group speak, and while some were struggling more than others, they were all suffering like she was.

But just as she was summoning up the college, there was a sound behind her. The door opened—not for the first time, there had been several late-comers—and Saya’s heart leapt to her throat as she saw who it was.

No, she thought, her entire body tensing. No!

It was Darren.

She’d only seen him a few times before, but she recognized him immediately. He was blond, tall, and more muscular than she ed. Good looking enough that he probably had the girls at school all over him, despite (or perhaps because) his mouth seeming to stuck in a permanent smirk.

Saya shrank down in her seat, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t recognize her.

“Good evening,” Carol called. “Take a seat, anywhere you like.”

The young man didn’t respond, just nodded, before taking a seat in the back row. He was sitting almost as far away from her as possible, but it still felt too close.

She couldn’t believe her son’s bully, the boy who had started all this, was just a few feet away from her. She felt her fists clench involuntarily.

Saya didn’t hear another word of the meeting. Half the room spoke—though not Darren—but all she could think about was the young man sitting a few feet away from her, the boy who didn’t even know he had the potential to destroy her life.

“I’d like to thank everyone who came along today,” Carol said finally, and as everyone was standing up, Saya ran for the door.

The cool air outside was like a slap to the face. She was breathing hard as though she’d just run a marathon, and it was all she could do to keep herself upright. Her mind was a whirlpool; a thousand thoughts battled to be heard above the rest.

What had she been thinking? Why had she gone to the meeting? The risk of being caught, of being found out, of having her shameful secret exposed...it been far too risky. She was an idiot.

No, not an idiot.

A sex addict.

She’d been so desperate, she’d done something she knew she shouldn’t. She couldn’t even guarantee that Darren hadn’t seen her. If he told her son...if he told any of his teachers...if he told her husband!!

Her life would be ruined. She’d never be able to show her face in the school again. She’d never be able to return to the mosque. She’d be an outcast.

The world was spinning as she made her way to her car, as she shakily unlocked the driver’s seat door and collapsed behind the wheel. But just as she was about to start her car, one thought surfaced above the rest.

Why had Darren been there?

She’d been so concerned with her own presence, with her own safety, that she hadn’t considered what his presence had meant. Why had her son’s bully attended the same Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting she had?

It couldn’t have been to catch her out—he would have had no way of knowing she’d be there. Yes, he’d given Adnan the flyer, but he couldn’t have seriously thought she would come.

Unless...

Saya’s face went white as she realized.

Sex addict.

He was a sex addict too. That...that was how he’d managed to see it in her. He’d told Adnan that his mother was a sex addict: not to bully him, as Adnan had assumed, but to let her know.

Darren had realized before she did.

He’d recognized a fellow addict.

Suddenly all of Saya’s shame and self-hatred was gone. Instead, she felt a wave of empathy, of understanding.

The young man was struggling. As everyone in the room had been; he was a sex addict.

Sex addict.

Just like her.

Saya looked up. There wasn’t a stream of people coming out of the door, as she’d assumed there would be, and she hazily ed Carol saying something about donuts and coffee.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she’d left her car and was making her way back inside. Her whole body was shaking as she walked through the door, her heart hammering in her chest.

She was doing the unthinkable. She was walking back into a room filled with strangers who could recognize her, could expose her, could ruin her.

She was walking back into a room filled with people just like her.

It was a risk she was willing to take. She had to take. Because Darren had known, before she did. He’d seen the truth before she had—if he could recognize that in her, if he could identify what she’d had no way of knowing about herself...

...maybe he could help.

Darren was inside, talking to the married woman...it took Saya a moment to her name.

Jean.

The two of them were laughing, and Saya noticed Jean’s eyes darting down to Darren’s muscles, before snapping back up. The married woman was blushing slightly, and Saya found herself feeling deeply sorry for the woman. She had spoken about how much she was struggling with fidelity, and having someone like Darren...someone so fit, so masculine…it must have made everything that much harder.

It wasn’t the first time Saya had noticed Darren’s physique, or how handsome he was. For a moment she wondered how many girls he’d slept with.

Of course, with his...condition...that number wasn’t something to celebrate. If he was anything like her—and her revelation in the car had clearly indicated that he was—then he couldn’t say no.

He was a sex addict.

Saya plucked up the courage to step forward. “Darren?” she said brightly, and Jean shot her a jealous look as the young man’s attention moved from Jean to her.

I’m doing this to help you, she mentally told Jean, and the married woman stepped aside as Darren’s eyes scanned up and down the Muslim woman’s body.

She felt herself growing warm at the attention. “Uh, hi,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “Are you...?”

Saya smiled, though her cheeks were red. “I’m...I’m Adnan’s mother.”

Darren nodded, reaching out to take her hand in his. Her entire body pulsed at his touch, and she was filled with the familiar urge to tear her clothes off and jump on him, to wrap her legs around his waist and beg him to take her, to pound her, to fill her, to make her his.

“Hi,” he said, kissing her hand gently. She expected him to release it, but he didn’t, his gaze fixed on hers.

“I just...I wanted to thank you,” she stammered, making no attempt to pull her hand away from his. “You...you told Adnan...and the flyer...”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes staring into hers. Goosebumps rippled all over her skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “Thank you for telling me. For...for making me realize.”

“Of course,” he replied with a grin that made her knees weak.

“I’m sorry about Adnan,” she added. “He thinks...he thinks you’re bullying him.”

Darren’s grin grew wider, and Saya felt her whole body tingling. His grip tightened on her hand, and her eyes flicked down to his soft, pink lips. It was so easy to imagine leaning forward and kissing him. Or dropping to her knees and...in front of the entire group...

Saya blinked twice forcing herself to focus. But the knowledge that Darren was like her, that he was as an addict too...that if she offered her body to him, he wouldn’t be able to refuse, any more than she would...

It was more than a little distracting.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice deep and masculine. “I’m just glad the message...got to you.”

Saya found herself nodding. “It did,” she said, her voice a breathy sigh. “And I...um...”

Darren glanced around the room. Everyone else was in their own conversation, and only Jean’s eyes were lingering on the pair of them.

She suddenly realized she was still holding Darren’s hand.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he said quietly. “So we can...talk?”

Saya knew it was a bad idea. She’d taken enough risks coming to the meeting at all. She didn’t need to add to ti by doing something reckless, something stupid, like...

“Sure,” she said, her voice high and thin.

“Great,” Darren said, and Saya’s body shivered at his smile. He was so handsome, and now she knew that they had something in common. They were both sex addicts.

Sex addicts.

Darren drove. Saya didn’t even think to mention that her car was still parked at the church. It was all she could do not to hyperventilate.

The thought of Darren’s cock inside her was overwhelming.

It was like a drug, filling her with pleasure. All she could think about was him. She could feel her heart pounding, could feel the heat between her legs.

He was an addict, just like her. He was a sex addict.

Sex addict.

When they got to his car, he had to release her hand, and Saya felt just as empty as she had when her husband pulled out of her. The thought was wrong, she knew that intellectually—she shouldn’t be comparing holding the hand of her son’s bully to the sensation of making love with her husband, a man she had known and loved for over twenty years—but she couldn’t deny it.

The moment he let go of her, the emptiness was palpable.

It was only a few minutes to Darren’s house. Saya didn’t think about where they were going, or what would happen once they arrived. All she could do was sit there, staring at Darren, basking in the fact that she had finally met someone like her.

Another sex addict.

The lights were off at his house, and Darren held up one finger. Saya nodded—she didn’t want to get caught by Darren’s parents. She didn’t want anyone to know that she was sneaking into a teenage boy’s room at 8:30pm.

They wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand what they were doing here.

For the first time since leaving the church, Saya wondered what they were doing here, but the thought was pushed out of her head by the exhilaration of sneaking past the living room, where the TV was playing.

She was a married woman, a mother. A respected member of the community. And even when she’d been a teenager herself, she’d never snuck into a boy’s bedroom. She’d been a virgin until her wedding night. Now, twenty years later, she was sneaking into a strange boy’s bedroom.

No, not a strange boy. A sex addict. He was going to help her.

He was going to help her overcome her addiction.

When they were alone in his room, Darren locked the door, and Saya relaxed.

“Um...”

“It’s okay,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “No one is going to interrupt us.”

“Right,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say. They were standing less than a foot apart. She could feel the heat from his body, the masculinity radiating from him.

Aside from her son, she’d never been alone with a teenage boy before. Especially not one as handsome as this.

And certainly never...a sex addict.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he asked, his hand reaching out to brush her cheek. Saya’s skin tingled at his touch, and she nodded.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Um...I...”

He cocked his head to the side.

“I...um...I don’t even know where to begin,” she whispered. “I didn’t know...I didn’t know I had an...an addiction.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Darren said with a chuckle. His fingers had never left her cheek. It felt so good.

“Yeah,” Saya breathed. She knew she should stop him. He was a sex addict. She was a sex addict. They shouldn’t be alone. They shouldn’t be...touching.

But even though she knew the danger, knew that he wouldn’t stop unless she made him (and perhaps not even then!), Saya did nothing.

He was so young, so strong, so handsome...she could feel her nipples hardening within her top. She could feel herself growing wet.

She wanted him. And she knew he wanted her.

“Have you found anything that...helps?” she asked.

“I have,” he said. His words were simple, but his voice was so powerful that it filled her entire body with heat. She blushed.

“What?”

He lowered his hand, and again Saya felt that emptiness, that absence. A small part of her ed that she had to get home, that she’d told her husband she was going to visit her sister and would be back before eleven…but the rest of her was wholly focused on the handsome, muscular boy sitting in front of her.

The boy who said he could help her.

“Do you have sex with your husband?”

Saya nodded.

“More than once a day?”

Again, Saya nodded. Such intimate details, stuff that she would never have told anyone else—not her sister, not her doctor, not her children...Darren got them out of her without ever trying.

“Every time you’re alone together?”

“Yes,” Saya whispered.

“Is it ever enough?”

“No,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She couldn’t believe how honest she was being with a stranger. How candid.

But he wasn’t a stranger.

He was just like her.

Sex addict.

“How many partners have you had?” Darren asked.

“Only my husband,” she itted, and his eyes went wide.

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said, blushing.

“Wow.”

“Have...have you been with lots of women?” The question was out before Saya could stop herself.

Darren smirked. “More than a few,” he said. She wanted to pry, to learn more...she told herself that it was because she wanted to understand his addiction better, to compare his experience to her own, but she knew that wasn’t true.

The idea of this handsome, virile boy having sex with multiple women made her...jealous.

Jealous, and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

“So what helps?” she asked, doing nothing to mask the desperation from her voice.

Darren sighed, casting his eyes to the side. “I wish I had something better to tell you,” he said. “Something more helpful.”

“Anything,” Saya said. “Please, Darren.”

His name felt sweet on her lips, more than she expected.

“I need something. Anything.”

“It isn’t easy,” he said, and Saya nodded.

“Please,” she repeated. “I’m desperate.”

Darren looked her straight in the eyes. “You need to stop having sex with your husband,” he said. “If you do, maybe you’ll have a chance. Maybe you can recover. But if you keep having sex with him, you won’t be able to fight it.”

Saya felt like she’d been slapped in the face. His words were so strong, so powerful. She was reminded of the time that she’d first heard her identifier, that her son had first said the words—sex addict.

“But...”

“It’s hard, I know. But if you’re going to beat this, if you’re going to get over your addiction, you have to stop. You need to build up your strength, and saying no—resisting temptation—is the first step.”

Saya nodded. He was right. Of course he was wright. The more sex she had, the less control she had. If she kept sleeping with her husband, she’d never be able to stop.

She’d never stop being an addict.

She’d never recover.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Darren nodded, his expression solemn. “I hope it works out for you.”

“Thank you,” Saya replied. She didn’t know why, but she was surprised when he crossed the room and opened his door. Of course, she hadn’t expected he would...that they would...

She was a married woman, after all. He was a teenager. It would have been completely inappropriate.

But as he silently led her back down the hallway to the front door, she felt just as empty as she had when he’d first released her hand.