The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s a slow day at the Farmers’ Market. The cloudy ones always are, and Lauren’s afraid she won’t break even. Well, she’s always afraid she won’t break even, but she figures it’s a good fear since it keeps her frugal. Anything to keep her as far away from a cubicle farm as humanly possible.

At least her jewelry won’t spoil. She feels a little bad for the girl at the next booth, a cute little redhead made even cuter by her country girl getup—faded denim shorts and a blue gingham blouse knotted under her breasts. Her table is loaded with plump blackberries ready to burst, fresh herbs, and vine-ripened tomatoes so fresh, Lauren can smell them from where she’s sitting. She can’t decide which is more enticing—the girl or the tomatoes.

She wouldn’t mind feeding the girl the tomatoes. Or the blackberries. They could laugh and lick the berry juice off each other’s fingers before moving on to the real fun. Lauren bets the taste of the girl would make a nice complement to the blackberries—salty versus sweet, smooth versus tart. She’d love to find out but knows she won’t. It’s her variation of Murphy’s Law—any women she’s attracted to is hopelessly straight.

The first few hours pass with a handful of customers and a number of cliché fantasies. By the time Lauren realizes she’s not being as surreptitious with her glances as she should be, her cunt’s tingling happily and her panties are just a bit past damp. She does, however, have the decency to blush and look away when the girl looks over at her with a small frown. Whoops.

She hears the girl move out from behind her table. Lauren keeps her eyes firmly on the bracelet she’s been pretending to restring as she the girl’s clipped footsteps on the concrete announce her approach. “You’ve been watching me all morning.”

Lauren glances up and almost does a double-take at the very pleasant view of the girl leaning a little too far over the table. Lauren manages to drag her eyes up to the girl’s face, but it’s very, very hard keeping them there. She’s always had a thing for redheads, and the faint smattering of freckles across the girl’s cleavage is...well, Lauren’s only human.

The girl smiles and leans a little lower, dropping a shoulder so Lauren gets a glimpse of a pale blue bra. “You should at least have the decency to outright ogle.”

Lauren’s mouth goes dry. It has to be a proven fact somewhere that the reason why lust makes your mouth dry is because the body only has so much moisture, and it’s needed in the cunt. That’s her theory, anyway, drawn from personal experience. She licks her lips, realizes how dirty must look, and feels her blush deepen. “Most girls seem to prefer being ogled by men.”

The girl clucks her tongue. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you you shouldn’t make sweeping generalizations?”

Lauren stares at her. She couldn’t be...was she flirting? “A few people.”

“So ogle.” The girl demonstrates by leering at her. “I don’t mind.” She straightens up and flips one of her braids over her shoulder before spinning and heading back to her table, swinging her hips. “It beats being bored.”

Lauren takes her up on the invitation. Her ass looks great in those shorts. She actually wouldn’t mind arranging a trail of blackberries down the girl’s spine and nibbling her way down to...

“What’s your name?”

Lauren blinks, startled out of the thought. “Oh! Um, Lauren.”

“I’m Mary.” The girl smiles and makes a show of popping a blackberry in her mouth.

Lauren’s voice is hoarse. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Mary laughs. “Likewise.” She turns her attention to a couple passing by and manages to sell a good portion of her tomatoes and basil over the next half hour.

The clouds clear and business picks up for both of them. Lauren doesn’t find the time to talk to Mary again, but she does make the time to exchange a couple of heated glances with her between customers. Nothing will come of it, she knows, but it makes the time fly. By the time sunset rolls around, tinting the remaining clouds electric pink and orange, she’s sold enough to make a profit. All Mary has left on her table is a half-pint of blackberries.

Mary watches her pack up her remaining jewelry. “Want to make a swap?” she asks, holding up the blackberries. “Berries for the quartz pendant?”

It’s a better deal for Mary, but not by much. Lauren couldn’t help but overhear the constant repetitions of “’How much are the blackberries?’ ‘Ten dollars per pint.’” On a slow day, she lets customers haggle her down to six or seven dollars for the small pendants, and she figures she got at least that much entertainment out of flirting with Mary. Besides, it’s been ages since she had blackberries.

“Sure.” She hands the pendant over. On impulse, she leans up on tiptoe and brushes Mary’s lips in a quick kiss. “Tax,” she says quickly, ducking away. What was she thinking? It’s one thing to flirt and ogle, but to...oh! This is how she gets in trouble.

She all but runs to her car. It’s not until she’s safe in the parking lot of her apartment complex that she realizes she didn’t get the blackberries. Damn. They would have tasted good over vanilla ice cream.

She’s getting everything ready for tomorrow’s Farmers’ Market when someone knocks. Lauren stares at the door in shock for a moment. Her friends don’t drop by unannounced, and it’s been ages since a random neighbor came visiting. Her breath hitches when she sees Mary, wearing the quartz pendant, through the peephole.

“How did you...” She can’t finish the question because she’s so giddy at the sight of Mary and doesn’t want to drive her away.

Mary gives her a bright smile and produces the blackberries from behind her back. “Hello yourself. You forgot these.”

“How did you know where I live?”

“I can read minds.” Mary pushes past her and steps into the middle of the living room. “Cozy.”

“Come on, really.”

“Really.” She turns and gives Lauren a wicked grin. “Or I followed you home like a crazy stalker. Take your pick. Now come in and close the door. Unless you want your neighbors to see me collect my tax.”

Lauren shuts the door. “Your tax?”

“Yeah. You know, you kind of stiffed yourself on yours. I think that at eight point eight percent,” she sets the blackberries down on the coffee table and closes the distance between them, “you should have at least slipped me tongue.”

Lauren’s mouth is dry again, and then it’s not because she’s pressed against the door and Mary’s kissing her at—she giggles—eight point eight percent. Mary slides a hand up Lauren’s shirt, and Lauren giggles again at the light touch, then gasps as Mary’s fingers graze over her hard nipples through her bra.

Mary breaks the kiss but doesn’t back off. “I’ll let you do that thing with the blackberries.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you line them up down my spine and then eat them one by one.”

“How...how did you know about that?” Lauren’s never been one to believe in warning bells, but something stirs in the back of her mind, and her stomach gives an uncomfortable lurch.

“I told you, I can read minds. Don’t worry. That’s all I can do.” Mary leans in for a light, chaste kiss, and Lauren’s stomach settles. “Well, almost.” She nips at Lauren’s ear. “Are you wet for me?”

Lauren’s been wet practically all day. “Yes,” she whispers.

“Good.” Mary steps back. “I want you to strip for me. Will you?”

“Yes.”

Her head goes as dry as her mouth. Lauren only remembers flashes—stripping to Mary’s orders, holding still for inspection, watching Mary undress before her—and then she’s on her knees, gazing up at Mary.

Mary smiles and settles on the couch. “Be patient,” she says, fingering herself. “I’ve changed my mind about the blackberries, but I don’t think you’ll mind.”

Lauren shakes her head. She won’t mind anything. Her cunt is aching with need, and she knows that Mary, and only Mary, can make it better.

Mary withdraws her fingers and leans forward. She slips a blackberry into Lauren’s mouth. Lauren accepts it with a moan, sucking Mary’s fingers clean. She had been right earlier. Mary’s taste does compliment the berries perfectly.

“Good?” Mary asks, withdrawing her fingers.

Lauren nods.

Mary settles back again and sets a trail of blackberries up one thigh. “I’ll let you have this, but then you’ll have to let me have something.”

“Anything.”

Mary smiles and braces her foot on the coffee table, careful not to upset the berries. “Go ahead, then.”

Lauren moves slowly. This has to be a fantasy. Mary can’t really be here, letting her nip and nuzzle her thighs between blackberries. It’s too...earthy. Nobody ever let her take her time and play. It’s always quick and frenzied and all about release.

But Mary seems to enjoy it slow. She twines a hand in Lauren’s hair and offers gasped encouragement as Lauren licks her. She tastes better than the blackberries, and Lauren’s whole body feels a thrill at Mary’s responses to her ministrations.

Her own cunt throbs in time with Mary’s moans. This is why she loves taking her time. Getting someone so worked up that all she can do is tighten the grip on Lauren’s hair or claw at her back and tell her, “Fuck yes, oh, right there! Don’t you dare let up!” and then be reduced to a moan as Lauren hits right there...it’s almost enough to make Lauren come, too.

She leans back as much as she can with Mary’s hands still twined in her hair. “Was it good?”

“Mmmmm.” Mary slides off the couch and rubs her breasts against Lauren’s. “Quite good.” She licks Lauren’s lips and chin. “And I’m quite good on you.”

Lauren whimpers and arches against Mary. Her cunt still aches, but the need is offset by the feel of Mary’s breasts sliding against hers. Mary laughs and pulls Lauren’s head back to nip at her throat.

“It’s too bad blackberries are almost out of season, hmmm?”

Lauren can’t answer. She’s shifted so she’s straddling Mary’s thigh. She’s wet enough to make Mary too slick for the right kind of friction, but she can’t stop because she’s too close.

Mary laughs, and it vibrates against Lauren’s collarbone. She whimpers.

“But I bet you’re always in season.” Mary bites at the hollow of Lauren’s throat. “Or always in heat, but garden analogies are much more flattering, aren’t they?”

Lauren moans.

“Do you want to come for me?”

“Yes. Oh, please, yes!”

Mary trails her hand down to Lauren’s mound. “I’ll let you, but first...you remember me saying you had to let me have something?”

“Anything!”

“Yes, anything.” She slides her fingers around Lauren’s clit.

“Oh, god!” She’s close, so close, and then Mary brushes a finger over her hood and she’s gone. She’s shrieking, she thinks. If she isn’t, she should be, because nothing has ever felt this good.

She’s wrung out by the time she comes down, but she musters enough strength to suck her own juices off the fingers Mary slips into her mouth. Then she’s cradled against Mary’s shoulder, and Mary is stroking her hair, murmuring something Lauren can’t quite make out. Eventually, she’s collected enough to understand. “...always be in season for me, right?”

“Yes,” Lauren says. Her thoughts are fuzzy, and she’s not quite sure the clearest ones are really hers, but thinking about it is too much effort. Much better to relax under Mary’s soothing hands and bask in the comfort. “Yes. I’m yours.”