PharmaMind

I took a swig from my glass and smiled at my date's joke as I swallowed. Then giggled as I noticed a bit of foam had trickled down my chin and I wiped it up. He chuckled as well at my minor act of clumsiness - a good sign that he didn't expect me to be, well, perfect and ladylike. Although he'd already failed to bat an eyelid at my ordering stout, which on that regard, placed him streets ahead of most of the competition in this town. The place was small and provincial - inhabited by old-fashioned types for whom men were men, women were women, and women definitely did not drink stout.

My date, however, a handsome man by the name of Richard, worked not in the town but at a research park several miles outside it. A steady influx of scientists and other intelligent types was gradually changing the face of surrounding towns, which was certainly good for my prospects of giving up the single life. The joke, by virtue of which I had just embarrassed myself, was about his job at the research park, working for a company called PharmaMind. Apparently he couldn't tell me too much - "you know, NDAs," he'd said - but his PhD (a PhD!) was in chemistry and he was trying to produce some kind of drug which made you relaxed, or something. It was more complicated than that, but I had been staring at his forearms and was already feeling a little tipsy, even though I was less than one pint down.

"But that's enough about me for now - what do you do to keep yourself out of mischief?" he asked.

"Ah, I work at the bank," I lied, guiltily. Really I was a waitress but I wanted to appear a bit more accomplished.

"Oh, really? I haven't seen you in there," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Not on the desks! I'm a secretary." Not too much more accomplished - lies were risky, after all. To emphasise my secretarial nature, I looked over the tops of my glasses at him and pouted. Gosh, the beer really was getting to me - I'd nearly licked my lips.

"Oh, I see!" he said with a smirk, noticing my charade. He allowed his arm to fall from his glass, which was nearing his lips, and it casually (but purposefully - I'm not naïve) brushed mine. The effect was electric! God, I hope he didn't hear my intake of breath. This wasn't just the alcohol, this was clearly, well, chemistry - no pun intended. I looked him in the eyes and couldn't help but smile. He held my gaze for several long seconds, his fingers lightly resting on my arm, their weight sending pulses of sensation through my whole body, preventing me from thinking of anything to say.

"Another drink?" he asked, eventually.

"M-make it a half," I said, swallowing. He gave me a look that said he understood the implication - that I wanted to finish here quickly - but that he didn't know whether to like it. Perhaps I wanted rid of him.

Of course I didn't. However, I did have a rule, born out of too much experience with the shits in this town - deserving though he may not be of receiving the same treatment - and that was that I never, ever fuck on the first date. No matter how hot (and he was) intelligent (he certainly was that) and charming (that too) the guy, he had to wait. I didn't fool around, didn't grope, didn't go home with them and basically didn't do anything except kiss chastely - though tongue was acceptable in special situations. After the first date, I didn't care - that generally sorted out the ones who were worth the effort from those who just wanted a quick shag with any woman with tits. And, as I knew, I was more than that - I took care of my appearance, wore a (professionally fitted) 34E bra, had kissably smooth, long legs, and long, soft, chestnut-brown hair. In short, I was hotter than 95% of the women in this backwater - a fact that the research park had not yet altered - and I frequently had to fend off unwanted attention.

But this Richard was seriously testing my resolve. He ticked all my boxes. I was having a great time! But no, I had to stay true to myself - you could never know, and I knew that all too well. Like with John. And Dave. And... well, a few others, to be honest, who all only cared about one thing. Dickheads.

Richard was back with my drink - he'd got a half for himself, too. Was he looking a little too intently at me as I took the first sip? Oh, I shouldn't be so ridiculous, I'd just got myself worked up thinking about those old... not flames, what should I call them? Damp squibs? That would do. John, who I'd met before instigating my golden rule, certainly turned out to be a damp squib in the bedroom once he'd got what he wanted!

Oh, fuck! Richard had started stroking my arm! Men didn't usually have this effect on me, but, hmm, his arms were nice... Goddammit, Sarah! (That's my name, sorry I didn't introduce myself) Stay focused! Somehow I could feel every single tickle as his fingertips moved the fine hairs on my arm, and each one sent a tiny, tingle of excitement through me - focusing was not easy at all.

The conversation turned to more mundane things like television and music and holidays, but before long our drinks were finished and it was time to depart. "Whereabouts do you live?" he asked, "walk you home?" It turned out I lived quite near to him and we agreed to head to his first, after I assured him I'd be perfectly fine walking the couple of hundred metres to my door. On the way back we chatted politely about our plans for the following day - a Wednesday, so we'd both be at work bright and early (well, I would be if I really worked in a bank. My shift didn't start until 11). In spite of my earlier tipsiness, I wasn't unsteady on my feet in the slightest. Which was good, because I didn't want to have to grab his arm for support.

The pub wasn't far from Richard's place, and we were soon there - a smart-looking upper-floor flat in an older section of town. The kind of place advertised for "young professionals," with a neat garden flat and architectural features beyond the merely functional. "Would you like to come up?" he asked.

There it was, then - they were all after it, weren't they? "No, thank you," I said, smiling politely. "I have a rule." Normally I didn't explain, but I didn't want to scupper things.

"A rule?" he asked, trying to maintain a good-natured smile, appear quizzical and not look too bothered all at the same time.

I'd have to explain further. "Yes. I never fuck on the first date."

"Oh, I didn't mean—"

"I don't 'come up,' either. It's nothing personal, it just keeps things easier for me. I've got your number, I'll call," I said, and smiled, genuinely, reaching for and finding his hand.

"Do you have any rules about kisses?" he asked, a funny look passing his face.

I drew him closer and whispered, "no..." and we fell together, colliding perfectly with our lips, taking a few seconds to enjoy their warm crumpling before letting loose, tongues swirling and exploring. The strange feeling I had when Richard had touched my arm earlier returned in full force, and thinking seemed to get very hard as the sensation spread through my body, emanating from my tongue, my lips, my back where he held me and, now, my arse which he'd started squeezing - wasn't I supposed to stop him from groping me? It was only my bum, I suppose. Bums weren't as significant as tits.

We broke the kiss and he looked at me again. I expected him to be grinning, maybe a bit sappily - I think I was - but he had that funny look again, like he knew something I didn't. "So, I think you should come up, Sarah," he said. I know I should have refused again - I had my rule - but something about it all - the kiss, those exciting tingles, his gorgeous, brown eyes (I hadn't mentioned those before, but they were ever so lovely) just seemed to make my rules matter a bit less. What was the harm in going up? I'd just pop in, we'd snog on the sofa a bit more, maybe let him touch my boobs - no! No, we'd just kiss. The rule about not going up was only to prevent other goings on anyway. It was only 11, as well. I'd just go up for a little bit.

"Oh, go on then," I replied.

Up the stairs we went, him in front, me trailing a few steps behind, wondering what was going on. I never broke my rule! But before I could continue the thought we were in his flat. It was a nice flat - neat, but not too neat: some dishes waiting to be washed, a sweatshirt thrown over a chair, some crumbs on the coffee table. Fresh flowers on the windowsill. My eyes took all this in as he was taking his coat off. He reached for my jacket and I gave it to him without thinking, even though I wasn't staying. "Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, wine?"

"No thanks, I'm not staying. Maybe some water.." He nodded once and ducked into the kitchen. Turning around I looked at the pictures Richard had hanging from the walls - tasteful photographs and paintings. A cultured man, clearly.

I jumped as he put a hand on my shoulder. "Here you are!" He laughed at my surprise as I took the proffered glass. Each time he touched me it seemed to have a strange effect on me, but I wasn't really thinking about that as I downed the glass, placed it on the coffee table (away from the crumbs) and turned back to find his face close to mine.

Time, as it tends to in these situations, seemed to slow. He circled my waist with one arm and took my head in the other, whilst I held his upper arms. I was finding it hard to think. We simultaneously moved in to kiss each other and fell gently to the sofa, landing in a flurry of passion on yielding cushions. I seemed to be in a dream, floating on clouds, only really able to concentrate on his tongue in my mouth, hand on the small of my back: the points where we touched and from where the waves of pleasure emanated.

As we kissed, slowly at first but then speeding up, the intensity rising and falling like waves on a beach, he caressed my body with his hands: my back, my sides (I shuddered with pleasure then; they'd always been a sensitive spot) my hips and arse, my boobs, my legs... Hey, wasn't he supposed to stay away from my boobs? I mean, I know I hadn't told him not to, but wasn't there something about that? And it did feel absolutely delicious when he did, little concentration-robbing pulses spreading out from my nipples, resonating through my body especially there and ohh, especially there... But wasn't there something? Oh yes, my rule! I'd thought to myself outside that I wouldn't let him touch my tits, hadn't I? Or was it that I would? I was finding it so difficult to think, all I could concentrate on was the sensations he was making and OH he was touching my boobs again and ooh fuck I could feel myself getting wet. It was OK, he knew I wasn't going to fuck him - I just had to keep my clothes on and my wits about me, although one of those was already feeling a bit tricky.

After what seemed like hours, we stopped kissing, breathing heavily, holding each other. I looked at him and couldn't keep myself from smiling. He was smiling too, but he still had a look in his eyes like he had a secret. "You know I'm still not going to fuck you just because you're a good kisser, right?" I said, still smiling. He grinned and his knowing look remained. "You've got... ten minutes of smooching left!" I put on a stern look and he raised an eyebrow.

"Should be enough," he said, and rolled me onto my back, straddling me. I was just settling back and closing my eyes when they snapped open again as his hands found the bottom of my top and started lifting it up, exposing my stomach to air.

"Oi! None of that!" I was trying to remain playful but honestly was a bit annoyed that he was trying it on.

"Fine, fine," he said, good-naturedly, and removed his hands. To be fair I was finding it really hard to be mad at him in spite of the rules. This is what happens when you break one of them, I suppose. He lowered himself gently on to me, kissing my neck and ohhh that was heavenly and, yes, his boner was pressing into my crotch as well, and those things were all I could think about as he lifted my top over my head, exposing a black lace bra full of my luscious breasts, which were just aching to be free, not just of my top but of the bra too, if only he'd reach back and unclasp it, but I couldn't think about that now because God he was touching them and fuck that felt good... Wait, when did my top come off? Hadn't I said something about that not happening? Somehow I'd got distracted and just let it happen. Weird. But as long as I didn't lose any more clothes and left in ten, well I guess about five minutes now, I wouldn't really break my rule. Not the important one.

He was looking at me with that knowing smile again, as he caressed my naked stomach, sending yummy tingles going all sorts of places. Mainly to my pussy. But my nipples were in on the action too. He started stroking lower, and lower, and with a great effort I caught his hand, looked him in the eye and said, in no uncertain tone, "Stop." Or, I tried too, what actually came out was a rather breathless "stoo-oop" as I feebly pawed at his hand.

"D'you know something?" Richard asked me, still stroking me now just above the waistband of my skirt.

"W-what?"

"You are going to fuck me, no matter what your rules say."

"What do you mean?" I was surprised, actually - I didn't feel scared. I knew I should; he was basically threatening to rape me, but I felt... I don't know what. Aroused, mainly.

"I'll show you," he said, and freed his hand from my weak grip, diving between my legs and slowly but forcefully stroking my pussy through my clothes.

Fuck. What was going on? I didn't really understand, but something was happening. Holy shit. Fuck. My pussy. I couldn't think.

"You can't think, can you?" I shook my head dumbly. Electricity flashed through my body, centred on my clit. "In your drink, at the pub. I gave you a new drug we've been developing at PharmaMind." Was that why I'd been feeling funny? I didn't know, I didn't know - shit - anything except how fucking good this felt. I moaned with lust. "Well, I say developing, it was abandoned. It was supposed to help you relax but it didn't seem to have—" ohmigod he was pulling down my skirt "—a significant effect." I was sure there was something I should be doing now, but I couldn't remember what it was. "Then we noticed that it did alter the behaviour of mice when they were allowed to mate, but didn't relax them, so it was dropped. But I carried on working with it, thought it had potential! I worked out what it did, and here's what:

"The more aroused you are, the more sexual stimulation you receive, the less independent thought you have." Oh holy fuck fuck FUCK he'd put a finger up me, when did my thong come off? Independent thought? Why would I want that? Richard could think for me as long as he kept these mmmmmmmmmm yummy feelings coming. "The effects only last a few hours," he continued, as I gasped, his thumb finding my clit and oooohhhh it was so good not to think and just focus on my clit and my pussy and Richard's fingers and nothing else... I'd do anything he asked just to keep those feelings coming. "But in that time we can accomplish such a lot. You see, you'd do anything I asked right now, wouldn't you?" I could only moan loudly in response. "Indeed. And all thoughts of your silly rules are gone now, aren't they?" I looked confused. What rules? Did I have a rule? Was it something about fucking? We were pretty much fucking now so I guess that was good. "Yes, you don't even know what I mean, do you. But there's more, darling Sarah, so much more." I squirmed. More. Yes. I wanted more. Nnnngh. His fingers hit a good spot. "Do you want to come, Sarah?" NNNNNNNGGGHHH - I moaned loudly and nodded. Yes. I did. "I know you do, and you will, soon." Good. Orgasm. Fuck. He was fingering me faster now. "There's just one thing though." What? Make me come! "The more aroused you are, the better the drug works. As you are orgasming, that last shred of independent thought you still possess will temporarily cease to exist. My desires will be your desires. You will essentially be... my slave."

Wait, what? That didn't sound — oh lord that felt good — that didn't sound good. A slave? I didn't want to be a — aahhh — slave, did I? Christ, was he getting faster? Was that possible? Or did I want that? Richard had oh fuck I was close — had said I would, so that was good, right? Yes, yes, right there! Oh, but slavery was ohhhhhh fuuuuccckkkkkk bad, wasn't it? And I, and I, I didn't — I didn't want to, to — oh, oh oh my GOD I'M COMING! And oh, ohhhhh as the mmmmmm orgasm pulses through me he's — Richard is, is whispering to me, instructing me, changing me...

I woke up. I must have fallen asleep - fuck, those were some weird... did I dream that? Clear not all of it - I was lying on a strange sofa in just my underwear. Jesus, and my thong was soaked, and there was a wet patch on the sofa. Ick. But did I really remember all that stuff that Richard had said? I'd been really out of it. I heard movement I couldn't see, then Richard appeared. "Ah, you're awake," he said. "How are you feeling?" There was something... different about him. Indefinably different. He looked somehow... more alluring. But not physically - he was his old, gorgeous self, but somehow more... powerful. Authoritative.

"I feel... weird," I replied, truthfully. "What's going on?"

"Allow me to demonstrate. Get up." I got up without thinking about it. "Sit back down." I sat. "Get up." I stood once more. OK, that was really strange. I was just doing what he said without thin— "Suck my cock" —king about it and oh, I was already kneeling down before him and taking his dick out and now it was hardening in my mouth and OH! that was new, too, his cock tasted, like, really good, like strawberry and mango and raspberry good. How could his drug have changed that? I just sucked, because that's what he'd told me to do. And as I sucked, he talked. "You'll already notice I've made a few changes - that's what the orgasm allows, you see. That's probably answered the question you no doubt had on waking up about whether what happened was a dream - it wasn't. Well, I suppose you might have dreamed something else. I don't know, probably not though, you weren't asleep for long. So yes, everything I told you about the drug is true, and, while you were having that - from the sound of it rather powerful - orgasm, I was making your changes. I won't tell you about all of them, that would only spoil the fun. Stop sucking, now." His cock, big and hard and covered in my saliva, came out of my mouth with a pop, and I unwittingly smacked my lips.

"I don't feel bad about you doing this to me, why is that? You're basically, well, raping me." Richard gave a little chuckle.

"Why, because that was one of the changes I made, of course. The worst you can feel about any of them is that they're a bit weird. Other than that you'll be pleased or neutral - you have no choice." I shrugged - it made sense, at least as much as anything else made sense.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Well in the short term, you can probably guess. After that, I have some vague plans for you, but you'll have your own life, I think. Now, tell me about your rule."

"I always fuck on the first date," I replied, automatically. Wait, was that right? Oh. I see, a change. I could clearly remember telling him on the way home the exact opposite - it had happened less than an hour ago, after all. But that was wrong, it wasn't my rule. My rule was to always fuck on the first date. I'd not followed that rule for a long time, strangely, but that was it nevertheless. And so far on this date, I wasn't following it either, well not really. Being fingered and giving head didn't really count. I wanted to fuck, and fuck properly.