The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Doctor Michael Dante was true to his word. Any misgiving he might have had about looking at a case assigned to another physician or about the secrecy that Beatrice had imposed upon him dissipated once he had looked at patient A056639’s file more carefully. Whatever patient A056639 suffered from, it was not a typical Degenerative Sexual Compulsion Syndrome, although the symptomatology was related—out of control hypersexual behavior, psychotic episodes, difficulty dealing with reality, self-abusive behavior. The new blood analysis which he had ordered to confirm the second sample provided in the file revealed that there were none of the byproducts of nerve degeneration, and in fact the nerves exhibited none of the damage expected from the alleged stage of her disease. He would order more detailed blood works to try to narrow down the commonalities between whatever was ailing A056639 and DSCS, but even without those further analyses, he had enough to reverse the patient’s original diagnosis.

Dante wondered why exactly patient A056639 had been classified as a Degenerative Sexual Compulsion Syndrome diagnosis, but little in her file gave a hint as to the answer. Doctor Kiyoko Agnieska was in charge of patient A056639, and Dante, despite some personality incompatibilities—the Japanese doctor seemed a little too meek for his tastes, a bit too fast to defer to others, a trait he found endearing in sexual partners but less so with colleagues—thought she was a competent physician, and he knew she was well liked by the patients.

Dante was happy to chalk up the misdiagnosis to a mistake, or perhaps to an initial presentation of whatever A056639 suffered from that strongly suggested DSCS, combined with an error in the blood work that also pointed to a DSCS typology. Perhaps another patient’s blood sample was mistakenly tested.

Even though Beatrice had told him to keep the information to himself and has asked him to treat A056639 on his own, he did not feel right about going completely over Doctor Agnieska’s head. It was a physician thing, something that Beatrice, for all her enthusiasm and her beauty, could simply not understand, being a simple nurse.

Doctor Agnieska, when presented with Dante’s findings, reacted with surprise but remained quiet, the way Dante expected her to behave. She had questions, of course, although she did not ask the question he feared the most, namely why he was looking at one of her patients’ file. She also insisted on running her own tests, and Dante offered to run them together. He said he was now curious, that it was an intriguing case, and that he was happy to follow Agnieska’s lead. All of which was essentially true.

As the tests returned with the same results as Dante’s own, Agnieska had to acquiesce to the evidence that the patient’s nerves did not show the signs of damage concomitant to the effects of DSCS.

When Agnieska finally asked Dante how he became interested in patient A056639—Jennie, she called her, though there was no indication of an official identity in her file—he said something about the file somehow coming across his desk, and that he had not realized that it was Agnieska’s patient until after he had already looked into the case in some depth, enough to arouse his curiosity. He apologized, and managed to look sheepish as he told the story, something that always worked with his wife when she raised doubts regarding his faithfulness.

In the end, Agnieska agreed to his conclusion of a misdiagnosis, and offered no argument against his proposal to wake A056639 up and quelling her hypersexual symptoms with a suitable dosage of the same drug cocktail offered to the rest of the patients, except without the drugs that helped contain the spread of nerve damage.

When Agnieska asked for Dante’s envisioned timeline, he replied that sooner would be better, and that he had arranged for the procedure to take place the following day.

Agnieska acquiesced, and Dante, had he been paying attention, would have wondered at the look of apprehension and worry that showed in Agnieska’s eyes.

But Dante was not only delighted from a medical practitioner’s stand point, he was also looking forward to the reward that Beatrice had hinted would follow should he deal with A056639. His imagination ran wild with possibilities.

Cassandra Riggs was really ripping into the poor secretary, so much so that she never noticed the man standing in the doorway of the office. The Special, for he was a Special, was dressed in such a way that he was indistinguishable from the rest of the attorneys in the office, in a well-made pricey three-piece suit and expensive loafers. He was even in the age range of the partners in the firm, and so Cassandra could be excused for not immediately noticing that he did not belong.

“And next time you are asked to arrange for the catering of the meeting,” blasted Cassandra to the poor secretary before her, “you are damned better make sure that you get at least one vegetarian option, one vegan option, and one Atkins-friendly option! You got that in that tiny little head of yours?”

The secretary hung her head in shame, and nodded once. Her body language screamed that she wanted to be elsewhere, and Cassandra drank it up. She took her Senior Administrative Assistant position seriously, and since everyone under her were her responsibility, she would be damned if she let the incompetence of one of these barely-better-than-a-temp idiots from the secretarial pool ruin her chances at advancement.

When she dismissed the poor girl, she remained standing behind her desk, her hands on her hips, feeling the adrenaline in her body rush through her veins. She felt good. Alive.

“You know, it looked like you almost enjoyed that.”

Cassandra turned to look at the Special, noticing him for the first time. His accent was odd—like someone trying to sound British but failing miserably. She looked at him for a few seconds, mentally running through her head the faces of the partners and their friends and other high-level clients, and coming up blank.

“May I ask who you are?” Her tone was civil, but curt.

The Special smiled genially. He took a step toward her, his hands in his pockets. “Who I am is not really that important, is it?”

“It actually is, for if you have no business here, then I will have to ask you to leave.” She looked at him, a challenge in her eyes. She was giving him a chance, but there would be only one.

“Oh, I definitely have business here.” His eyes wandered down her body, taking in the tight blouse and pencil skirt that molded her body the way she liked. Between his tone of voice and his lecherous look, she felt like a piece of meat being appraised at the grocery store. Cassandra’s blood boiled.

“Sir,” and she mustered all the icy politeness she could in that qualifier, “unless you have an appointment, I will have to ask you to leave.”

“Are you married, Miss—” he looked at the name plate on her desk, “Riggs?”

She did not answer, and grabbed the telephone on her desk.

He spotted the ring on her left hand when she moved, and nodded. “Looks like you are. Your husband is a lucky man. I think. Unless of course you treat him like you treated that empty-headed bimbo earlier.”

Cassandra’s hand clenched on the receiver. She was married, and she loved her husband. And no, she did not scream at him, at least, not often. Only when he screwed up badly, of course. But most of the time, he was nice and sweet and listened to her and did as she asked him to. She brought the receiver to her ear, and pressed the buttons to call up security.

“I like you,” the Special said, his voice calm and neutral, and Cassandra looked up at him. “You’re one sweet babe.”

“Security?” she spoke into the receiver. “This is Cassandra Riggs on the third—”

She never finished her sentence. The man had moved faster than she thought he could, and was next to her and had his hand on her ass before she could move away. And when he touched her she felt a tingle on her skin—despite her skirt and her underwear—and a heat from her ass cheeks that rapidly spread throughout her body, sending spikes of arousal to her crotch and to the tip of her breasts, and reaching her head and suddenly her mind was blanked, as if she was floating on a cloud with no fear and no anger and no desire but to be filled.

“There we go,” said the Special, softly, in her ear. “Tell security it was a misunderstanding and hang up.”

“Hello, security?” she said on the phone, interrupting the man at the other hand asking her if everything was okay. “Yes, everything is fine. Sorry to bother you—it was a misunderstanding. All’s good here.” She put the receiver down.

The Special’s hand was still on her ass, caressing it softly, enjoying her curves. “A tight ass, fine legs, and fantastic tits,” he said, squeezing one of her breasts in a large hand and pressing hard. “You’re quite the find, babe. Quite the find.” He paused, looking at her with a little smile on his face. “Now kiss me.”

And she did, turning toward the man and leaning into the kiss, giving her all, her body pressing into his body, her breasts pressing into his chest, her hips pressing her crotch into his thigh—she kissed him like a woman seeking to make him explode with lust and passion, for that was what she read into his demand.

The Special’s hands were on her ass, massaging it the whole time, and when he finally pulled back to breath, he was smiling more broadly. “Definitely quite the find, babe. Okay, here’s the deal,” he said, pushing a strand of dark hair away from her face to reveal her bright eyes. “You’re going to follow me out of here, and not say a word to anyone. We’re going to pay a little visit to your husband to let him know that you’re relationship is, well, done with. You’re mine, now. All mine. On the way, we’ll get you some better clothes, too. This is nice and all, but I like my toys in short leather skirts and boots. We have to show off those legs and that ass, babe.”

And she knew that all he said was true, and it felt good to follow him out of her office.

It would be some time later, after a quick trip to the mall where she acquired a wardrobe worthy of the most slutty streetwalker in town, that he gave her more specific instructions—he turned her drive to assert herself into a full-fledged domination fetish, making her wet at the thought of having a submissive do her bidding, whether male or female. And because, as he told her, he liked “breaking dominating bitches,” he gave her a deep-seated desire to be broken herself, craving a dominant hand powerful enough to subjugate her and reduce her to a fuck toy herself.

And it was in front of her own husband, whom she had tied to a chair after seducing him and beating him into submission once he was naked, that the Special broke her for the first time and fucked her like the horny resisting animal he had made her.

“He’s gonna do WHAT?” Pietro Gutierrez exploded, jumping up from the couch, forgetting that his pants were down around his ankles and swearing copiously as he almost crashed into the floor.

Doctor Kiyoko Agnieska, who was kneeling in front of him and gently jacking him off with her delicate hand, got out of his way and quickly glanced up at him with a frightened look before looking back down.

“He’s… he’s going to wake her up,” she said, her voice low, not meeting his gaze.

“I know that, you stupid cow! You just told me!” Tossing his pants away, he started pacing, his deflating cock at first bouncing around before him to finally dangle between his legs. “How did that happen?”

Agnieska, kneeling by the couch with her blouse open, her small breasts exposed, hesitated. “I… I don’t know, Pietro. He’s… he said he came across Jennie’s file, and—”

“And just happened to come across the cunt’s file and just happened to study it in detail, and just happened to see through your fake tests and just happened to take over the case?” Gutierrez’s tone was mocking, and he kept pacing.

“No… He… he came to see and I… I had to agree with the conclusions of the new tests—”

“And of course I’m sure you put up a valiant resistance, really stood up to him.” Gutierrez’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, his hands on his hips. “Or did you just lie back and spread your legs and let the Big Strong Man fuck you like the little yariman you are. Oh wait,” he said, snapping his fingers, “he’s got a real live cock, doesn’t he? That wouldn’t do it for you, would it?” He looked angry again. “You stupid cow—stupid stupid cow.”

Agnieska said nothing and merely hung her head. She wanted to close up her blouse and run, but she was too scared, and also too horny—she needed release. She hated being on her knees like that, exposed, but it also made her pussy drip. And she knew what was coming, and did not want to miss it. She needed it. No matter how much she hated needing it, she needed it.

“How are you going to fix this?” Gutierrez asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should withhold these little session until you figure it out…”

Agnieska’s breath caught, and she wanted to protest, but she did not know what to say, and Gutierrez was angry, and she did not know how to handle anything, and the fear of losing the highs of these little sessions, as Gutierrez had called them, stopped her. They were the only reason why she did all that she did.

Another voice came from the door, saving Agnieska from her quandary. “Now, that wouldn’t be very fair, would it?”

Cassandra Riggs, decked in the leather corset that bared her breasts and her knee-high black stiletto boots, took a step into the room, looking as though she owned the place.

Agnieska felt her chest blush with heat at the sound of Cassandra’s voice, and she stole a glance toward her, toward her goddess, and a shiver of apprehension and desire spiked all the way to her pussy when she saw that Cassandra had attached the black strap-on dildo to her crotch, the hard rubber shaft bobbing menacingly ahead of her.

Agnieska, as she did every time she was in the presence of the domineering goth brunette, wondered if what she was feeling was similar to what patients in Blue Ward felt, if what she was feeling was a symptom of the Syndrome having gotten its claws into her. Nobody knew how DSCS appeared and what caused it, or even how it spread, if at all, and despite the accumulated evidence that DSCS was not contagious, not even transmissible by direct blood transfusion, Agnieska worried.

That her worries sometimes shifted into fantasies of being a complete and utter slave to a devastating illness that would force her to submit with unabashed and shameless enthusiasm to the sick and twisted desires of any butch lesbian with designs over her delicate body suggested less a fear and more a hope.

Cassandra was looking directly at Agnieska, a dangerous smile on her face, but she was speaking to Gutierrez. “Not only am I sure that our darling little doctor here did everything she could to convince the big bad scary Doctor Brown Eyes that there’s nothing special going on with Biff’s Cunt, it would be really sad if I didn’t get my fix, and I hate being sad.”

At that point, Cassandra looked straight at Gutierrez and the man, as Agnieska could have predicted, looked away and grumbled something under his breath. Moving quickly, he grabbed his pants, and slid them up his legs, while Cassandra looked on with a smirk on her lips.

Agnieska did not move. Cassandra would tell her how she wanted her soon enough, and now that she was here, Agnieska was no longer in a hurry. The fear that something would go wrong and that Cassandra would not show had been replaced by a warm enfolding expectation.

Gutierrez had finished getting dressed, still grumbling something indistinct under his breath, and Cassandra shook her head, still smirking. “I don’t know why you got such a hard-on for Biff’s Cunt, Slimy. I mean, she’s cute and all, but there are other chicks. And awake or not, you can still use her for your little parties. Who knows, she might even be more fun.” The way she said it suggested that Cassandra’s ideas of fun were of the kind that could make Agnieska orgasm on the spot without being touched.

Cassandra took a step toward Agnieska, who did not look up. She was almost shaking with the usual mix of apprehension and desire. This was why she put herself in such a position—this was why she let herself be abused by Gutierrez, why she helped him, why she did not say a word when Gutierrez had what Cassandra had called his little parties. Granted, he did have videos of her with some of the patients doing things that would get her fired, if not brought up on charges. But even without the videos, Agnieska knew, in her heart of hearts, that she would be here anyway, on her knees, in front of this woman that could do whatever she wanted to her, because she filled up a hole in Agnieska’s soul that no one, not even her husband, had ever come close to filling.

Cassandra stopped before Agnieska, and ran a hand over her face. “How’s my favorite little doctor doing today?” she asked. Without bothering to wait for Agnieska to respond, she pushed a thumb into the kneeling doctor’s mouth, and allowed her suck on it, which she did with abandon. “That’s it, my pretty little doctor. Suck, while I decide which hole I’m going to abuse today.”

Agnieska shivered, and sucked on Cassandra’s thumb, sucking it the way she figured Cassandra imagined men wanted their cock sucked. She remained silent the whole time, sucking without making noise, the way she knew Cassandra wanted—a live version of the stereotypical Japanese geisha, silent and submissive and eager to please, an image that Agnieska had always detested, but that had always made her pussy damp with arousal.

Agnieska heard the door open and close, and she knew that Gutierrez was gone. Cassandra laughed softly. “Poor little man,” she said, and the sneer in her voice was unmistakable. “I think I intimidate him.”

Agnieska sucked harder, Cassandra having switched from her thumb to two fingers that she was not pushing deep into the Japanese doctor’s mouth. The casual carelessness of Cassandra’s actions—her fingers were thrusting so deep that Agnieska gagged every third or fourth thrust—added to the heat in the doctor’s pussy.

“You’re so quiet and submissive,” Cassandra told the sucking doctor, using her free hand to squeeze one of Agnieska’s small breasts. “That’s why Slimy likes you.”

Agnieska nodded to agree, still sucking, enjoying Cassandra’s touch. Of course Gutierrez liked her. Gutierrez hated assertive women, women with any kind of confidence in their own femininity. They only ones he was comfortable with, the only women that he willingly spent time with, where women like herself or the patient that everyone called Mouse, women who naturally submitted. He did not like submissives. He needed submissives.

Why he associated with Cassandra, then—or more importantly, why Cassandra associated with him—was one of the many questions to which Agnieska had no answer. But answers did not matter one iota to Agnieska right now: Cassandra was here.

“I think I’m gonna have your ass today,” Cassandra said, in the same tone of voice with which she might order a hamburger at the cafeteria. Agnieska shivered in anticipation, despite the pain she knew would come. She would let Cassandra do whatever she wanted to her.

“But Slimy’s right,” Cassandra continued, now shoving three fingers deep into Agnieska’s mouth and pulling back her hair so she would look up at her tormentor, “and having Brown Eyes putting his nose in our business should be punished. Get into position.”

Agnieska, her eyes watering from the fingers thrusting into her throat and growing wide with the perspective of getting reamed by a thick hard rubber phallus with no lubrication, nodded, and she scrambled to take position on the couch as Cassandra let her go. She leaned over the couch, pulled her skirt up to her waist after shuffling out of her underwear, and presented her rear end to Cassandra, her breath short, her mind filled with the anticipation of the pain and pleasure that was to come.

Cassandra ran a caressing hand on the exposed cheeks, almost lovingly. “Your ass is almost as cute as that of my Mouse,” she said, almost wistfully. But her tone of voice shifted immediately. “But for your punishment, my pretty little doctor, I’m going to take your ass dry. And you will do your best to not scream out loud or I’ll make sure that you regret it.”

And Doctor Agnieska, her blouse open, her small breasts revealed, her skirt bunched around her waist, leaning forward with her legs spread, her pussy and her ass offered to anyone willing to take them, almost came upon hearing Cassandra’s words.