Thoughts are Like Books Ch. 03

I'd like to thank all of you for the patience to wait for this chapter. I suffered some mental blocks of my own trying to continue this story and life got in the way. I promise not to make you wait so long for the next part. As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

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A few days ago I had discovered I had the ability to read minds. Now I sat somewhere between horrified and aroused as I watched a fellow mind reader, Sylvia, show me that the power included so much more than simple mind reading.

I was nearly shaking with a combination of emotions as I gathered up my books from the desk where I'd been working. It was the desk where Sylvia had made the librarian masturbate in front of us, and then made the old priest fuck her without him even knowing what he was doing.

I noticed that the desk was still wet from where his cum had run out of her after he pulled out and walked away. I went and grabbed some toilet paper from the loo and wiped it up. I certainly didn't want anyone thinking I'd left it behind.

Sylvia had disappeared after slipping me a business card and inviting me to a party. Honestly, I was intrigued, I mean, who wouldn't be? There was a secret society of mind readers out there, and now I was one of them. But it wasn't right what Sylvia did to the young woman or the priest, no matter how much she said they wouldn't even remember. Still...

When I took my books back to the desk, I could barely look at the demure librarian who had put on such a raunchy performance just inches from me, who had begged to be used by me in whatever way I wanted. I bit my lower lip at the thought, and as I did I noticed her giving me a queer look over the top of her glasses as a blush formed on her cheeks.

I couldn't help myself, so I reached into her mind and read what she was thinking. Just as Sylvia had said, she remember the experience in the stacks as a dream, but now, here I was, part of her dream, standing right in front of her, and it scared and excited her. Was she psychic? She wondered to herself. No, she must have just seen me before. She did think I was cute, however, and I saw her smile at the thought.

"Have we met?" she asked, her breathing a little shallow. "I swear I know you from somewhere."

I hesitated how to respond. "I think maybe you've just seen me come in before," I lied, but I could tell the lie put her at ease, allowing her to explain away all kinds of inexplicable thoughts that were circulating in the back of her mind.

"Well" she said with a soft smile as she put the books away, "you certainly made an impression on me."

"Did I?" I asked, disarmed by her eagerness to intrigue me. "How so?"

In her thoughts was resistance. Nothing uncommon, nothing out of the ordinary, just the normal sort of social training that keeps us from blurting out highly inappropriate details about our private lives to perfect strangers. But I could also tell that she wanted to tell me, so I gave her a little push. I focused on and amplified the desire to overcome those social norms.

"I had a dream about you," and she covered her mouth in surprise at her own admission, as if her hand could prevent her from saying more.

"You did? What was I doing?" I asked a bit coyly.

"Oh, well, nothing," she looked confused as to why she was still talking, but her own desires had broken her resistance. "I mean, you were just watching me."

"Ok," I nodded, moving a little closer and leaning on the counter. "What were you doing?"

Whereas before she had been a bit flushed, at this question she turned bright red, "I... I really shouldn't say."

In her head I could see the memory of the priest fucking her growing clearer, as was her sense of embarrassment, even humiliation at the idea of giving herself over to someone so much older, and a priest no less. Still she was fully aroused and she smiled coyly.

"Well," she said slowly, "I was in the library..." She reached out and took my hand in hers and began tracing circles on my palm. "And I was laying on a table..."

She was getting bolder as she grew more aroused, and I responded in kind. But she wasn't going to tell me the truth, or at least, what she thought was the truth.

"I was touching myself and..." Her breathing became shallow as she leaned in, "And I was begging you to..." the words seemed to catch in her throat, "Use me."

"And did I...?" I whispered, bringing my mouth close to hers.

"Not yet." She whimpered. We closed the space between us and I kissed her across the desk, but she pulled away and looked around anxiously, "Not here..." she said breathlessly before taking me by the hand and leading me to a room in the back.

After professing moral outrage at Sylvia's use of this young woman, I knew I really shouldn't be taking delayed advantage now. But the librarian wasn't in a trance and all of these desires were hers, I just... I just helped her be free to express them. That doesn't make me the kind of monster Sylvia acted, does it?

Moral debates aside, after watching the woman's performance earlier, and now experiencing her conscious attraction to me, I was far too interested to turn away from where she was leading me.

She pulled me into a back storage room lined with boxes and shut the door behind me. Immediately she fell into me and we were exploring each others' mouths, my hands roaming over her body, pulling at her clothes and removing her top.

"I don't know what's got into me," she panted apologetically as I leaned down and sucked her erect nipple into my mouth.

I gave her nipple a little tug with my teeth and asked, "Do you want to stop?"

In response she pulled me up and pushed me back against the door before eagerly dropping to her knees and reaching to undo my trousers.

She leaned forward and took my cock into her mouth. As I wasn't fully erect her lips easily reached the base and she suckled me like she was sucking her thumb for comfort, causing me to grow rapidly against her lips and tongue.

When I reached down and rested a hand on the back of her head she looked up at me and moaned sending vibrations that cause me to stiffen further. She took my touch as a cue to begin sliding her mouth back and forth.

As aroused as she was was I could see in her mind her worries over being relatively inexperienced at giving blow jobs. Her eyes gazing up at me spoke to both her eagerness and her need for reassurance.

I let out a moan meant to satisfy her, followed by, "Good girl, just like that." And while she struggled to find a rhythm as my cock swelled and stretched her mouth, I could sense the satisfaction ripple through her at my praise.

I took hold of her pony tail and wrapped my hand in it, but I let her determine the pace of her ministrations. She wasn't eager to be treated roughly and in the back of her mind I could see she worried about being face fucked as it had happened with bad consequences in her past. But I found the part of her that enjoyed giving pleasure and amplified it, until she sucked at me greedily, almost pushing me to orgasm before I was ready.

Pulling her off of my cock with a wet pop, I looked into her eyes as her tongue strained to lick the precum leaking from my glistening cock.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" I asked with heavy breath. She nodded with an expression that spoke both of inexperience and lust.

Raising her up from her knees I kissed her again and lifted her so she sat on the edge of a stacked box of books. I knelt down and slid her panties off under her skirt and pushed her thighs apart before standing between them.

Reaching between us I guided my cock into the folds of her flesh and pushed in easily. Her current arousal combined with the slickness left behind by the old priest's load made her well lubricated and easily penetrated.

Still she cried out as I entered her, a sound somewhere between satisfaction and growing need. I gripped her hips and began to slide in and out of her, a steady rhythm, growing in speed and intensity. Her own desire and pleasure was growing, and I focused on it, amplifying it until it pushed aside all of her insecurities and pleasure was the only concern echoing in her mind.

With my mental push, her body quivered and an orgasm rolled through her, causing her to spasm around my thick cock slipping in and out of her.

She wrapped her arms an legs around me, pulling me deep into her and grinding her small frame against me. Another orgasm rolled through her and I felt her fear and excitement at discovering herself to be multiorgasmic.

But she still didn't let me go, gripping me tight, making thrusting impossible as she bucked her hips and used my hard cock to ride through a second and a third orgasm. All the while calling out, "Yes! Yes! So Fucking Good!!"

But it wasn't quite right. I mean, in her head was an intensity like I'd never seen as she compulsively ground herself against me, orgasm after orgasm exploding in her mind and shooting through her like electric shocks.

I couldn't stop her. Her body shaking violently as she contracted around me, milking me with the intensity of a machine until I couldn't stop and came myself, filling her deep as her body encouraged every drop of semen from me.

Finally she went limp and I fell back against the door, my own orgasm still subsiding. She slipped to her knees panting furiously and looked up at me. Her ponytail had come mostly undone, letting her hair frame a face still colored by need and lust. She smiled before leaning forward and taking my cum covered cock in her mouth and sucking it clean.

Satisfied she had licked every last drop from me, she leaned back, legs folded under her and smiled again.

"My God," she panted with a smile, "I didn't even know that was possible."

Catching my own breath I eyed her a bit suspiciously. "Yeah," I agreed, "I've never seen anything like it."

She did her best to recompose herself with a customary shyness after such a display. But when she opened the door everything became clear. Leaning against the stacks with a grin was Sylvia.

The Librarian's eyes immediately went wide at having been caught, and she lowered her eyes and tried to slip past Sylvia without comment, but Sylvia stopped her.

"Excuse me, miss," Sylvia said. The younger woman stopped and looked up at her with a guilty expression. "You seemed to have missed something."

And then Sylvia reached out with a long finger and wiped a drop of cum that had stayed at the corner of the librarian's mouth. The younger woman's eyes went wide, but she didn't resist when Sylvia push her cum covered finger into the younger woman's mouth. In fact, she licked it clean.

"Alright, then," Sylvia said, "Back to work." Being released, she scurried off to her desk, overwhelming hea and humiliation radiating from her. Turning to me Sylvia said, "See? We can do so much more than read minds."

I was instantly angry. Angry with Sylvia for manipulating the younger woman's response, but also angry with myself for having given in to the temptation to take advantage of the situation. I had assumed that all of the librarian's responses were freely chosen. Had Sylvia orchestrated the whole thing, or just the massively intense orgasm?

I got out of there as fast as I could. I had no words for Sylvia, and just wanted to be clear of the entire incident. I was angry and ashamed but also confused and curious. Could I really control people? Not just manipulate them by knowing what they want, but actually make them do things they wouldn't otherwise do.

I mean, can you imagine? Sex, money, power, all of which are only a thought away. So why couldn't I get a sandwich for free? I must not be doing things right.

I turned the corner in front of St. Pancras Church lost in thought, deeply aroused and frankly a bit agitated. So when I got knocked into by an obvious tourist who was staring at her phone instead of watching the crowded street, I was more than a bit irritated.

But I wasn't angry until she looked at me and said, "You could say excuse me," with a tone of indignation, then turning to her husband she rolled her eyes, "These Englishmen are so rude; I can't wait to get back to the States. Aren't you going to say something, George?"

The events of the morning bubbled over and I found myself thinking, "Do you even know who I am? What I can do? And you have the nerve to blame me for your carelessness?"

For his part George seemed like he wanted a hole to crawl into to escape the situation. He looked at me kind of apologetically and started to say something, but I raised a hand and cut him off, leaving him standing in the middle of the sidewalk dumbfounded.

"Both of you," I said through gritted teeth, "come with me." I grabbed her hand, and pulled her up the stairs and into the church. She followed dutifully, her head down, with no sense of struggle, no sense of objection, George behind her. I pulled her past the few tourists in the mostly empty sanctuary and to the front of the church where the door to the sacristy stood open. A member of the church staff stepped forward to object, but with a look and a wave of my hand he stepped aside and ignored us.

Once in the small room I pushed her back against the wall and looked her up and down. She was slightly older than I was, maybe early 30s, straight hair to her shoulders, blonde, but obviously colored. She wore a thin sweater over a plain white t-shirt, and jeans. Standard tourist attire in London for the time of year.

"Take off your clothes," I ordered, and she swallowed hard while glancing between her husband and me with still bowed head. Still, she didn't hesitate and beginning with her jeans she began undressing, revealing her shapely legs, followed by her sweater and tee, showing off a rather attractive figure.

George started to say something, but I looked at him crossly and said, "You, stay in the corner and watch. Maybe you'll learn something." His mouth which had been left hanging open, closed suddenly and he dutifully made his way to the corner.

The woman still wore her bra and panties, and looked at me beseechingly when I returned my attention to her.

"All of your clothes," I said firmly, and she slipped her panties off of her hips and down her legs. She had kept herself trimmed into a neat little strip on her mound. "My husband likes it that way," she said sheepishly.

Slipping her bra down her arms, her breasts were smaller but pert, with large nipples, hard and erect, whether from the cold or excitement I didn't know and didn't care.

"Why are you here?" the tone of my voice not only demanded an answer, but demanded the right answer, the one we both already knew.

All but whispering she replied, "Because I was rude and careless."

"And your husband tolerates this kind of behavior?" I asked of George as though he were not present.

She bit her lower lip and said demurely, "He is far too lenient with me."

"So it seems," I nodded, "And what should be done with you?"

She gave a little gasp as her breath caught in her throat, and with barely a whisper, "I should be punished."

Honestly, I had no idea what was happening, nor was I asking questions about it. In a way I was more in control than I ever had been, but in another, more accurate way, I was simply following impulses without thinking, focused solely on my hostility toward this couple and my seemingly endless sexual desire, both of which had been evident all morning, and having found a worthy receptacle of my feelings, I wasn't about to let them go.

"Lean over and put your hands flat against the wall," I said calmly, "and present your ass."

When in position she glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes barely visible through her suddenly mussed hair falling over half of her face. They were full of defiant loathing, but not at me, at her husband who stood idly in the corner, watching just as I told him to.

Running my hand over her bare ass, I said aloud to George, "Give me your belt." She shuddered at my touch and at my words, but didn't otherwise move.

In other encounters I had to dig through a subject's mind to find the useful bits and pieces of memories that allowed me the right level of control. This time though, I just knew what I was about to say was true, like it was my own memories.

"You were disciplined as a girl," I took the proffered belt from George as I spoke to her, "And when you left home you swore never again..." I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "but I know your secret."

"Late at night, when George has gotten off and fallen asleep, leaving you unsatisfied... when your own hands silently paw at your breasts, and your own fingers take the place of your husbands pathetic cock... I know what you think about." She tensed under my hand as her breath quickened. "I know you think about the feel of the strap stinging your thighs and just grazing your panty covered cunt."

She moaned, but she didn't deny it, and I ran two fingers into the folds of her exposed flesh and found her positively dripping.

"Please..." she purred at my touch.

"Please what?"

"Please punish me." she whimpered.

"You. Are. A Rude. Little. Girl." I punctuated each word with the snap of the leather belt against the soft flesh of her ass and thighs. She cried out in agony with each stroke, but did not move, and I could see her cunt glisten.

Likewise George had slipped his pants off and was stroking his cock as he watched his attractive wife be spanked by another man. As I brought the belt down again, I turned to George.

"You are not allowed to cum, to you understand that?" I sneered at him, before giving a series of hard smacks to his wife's ass turning it from red to purple. "And neither are you."

She was mewling and whining under the attention I was giving to her long neglected fantasy/perversion. I thought about fucking her, I could have, right there in front of her husband, and she would have begged me to let her cum. But after the library, I didn't have much interest in using her that way. Instead a thought crossed my mind and I smiled wickedly to myself.

"I'm done with you both. George, you can cum when she cums. And you," I turned to the woman panting as she leaned against the cool wall, "You can only cum when he does."

With that I walked out of the small room. Before I had even closed the door behind, George was standing behind his wife with his hands on her hips thrusting madly with his over-engorged cock. I'm pretty sure they didn't quite understand what I had just done to them.

As I walked down the center aisle of the church between the pews, I noticed a familiar face smiling up at me. When I caught Sylvia's eyes she gave me a silent round of mock applause and I slid in the pew next to her. Letting out a sigh, I leaned forward into my hands.

"Well done," she all but purred. "Honestly, I was sure you would just fuck her and be done with it, but wow, remind me never to piss you off."

"What do you mean?" I shot up, suddenly panicked, "How do you know what I did?"

"Well," she smiled, "I can't read your thoughts, but I can read theirs, and jesus, he's gonna have a heart attack if he keeps pounding her in frustration like he is now."

Suddenly I felt guilty. I stood up and walked back to the sacristy. I poked my head in the door and said simply, "Both of you...cum!" And they did. She screamed out release as her husband emptied the strongest orgasm he'd had in years into his wife from behind. I again closed the door behind me and this time walked past Sylvia and toward the door of the church.

I heard her heels clicking after me, so I stopped and pivoted toward her in the vestibule. "Are you following me now?"

She put her hands on her hips and looked through me with a tilt of her head. "Yes," she surprised, "sort of, not really. Someone new to abilities can be a bit dangerous. And while I personally don't care if you make George and whatever her name is fuck each other in frustration forever, a dead man and his naked wife telling stories about commanding strangers is bad for business."