The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I had to admit that I looked phenomenally sexy.

Anyone would’ve thought that I’d spent the entire day carefully preparing myself for the evening ahead, and as much as it pained me to admit it, I actually had. The image in the mirror before me was of a shade of myself that felt no shame in dressing to impress, to tease and excite – to exist as a fantasy for every man who was lucky enough to feast their eyes upon me.

The rest of me, of course, wasn’t quite so keen to be nothing but a disturbingly sordid thought for those around me. Athletic and tanned to perfection, my figure was slender and petite, and frankly irresistible, even without the tight-fitting white blouse and extremely short miniskirt that made up the sexed-up school uniform which I was to wear for the remainder of the night.

The buttons of the slim-fitting short-sleeved blouse strained to conceal my unburdened breasts, whilst the tiny pleated and tartan-patterned skirt did very little to hide the fact that I was wearing only a trashy black thong that was more string than underwear. Stiletto heels adorned my feet, arching my back and thrusting my chest forwards suggestively, as if I really needed any more help to be noticed. A dark striped tie fell neatly between the curves of my chest, really only serving to emphasize the twin bulges that were already so readily defined by the struggling blouse.

My dyed blonde hair was fixed up in a long ponytail, despite hours of carefully straightening and fashioning that nearly rivalled the long hours spent applying make-up and generally seeing to it that I couldn’t look more glamorous or more deliriously hot than I did right now.

And of course I was incredibly wet. Absolutely dripping wet. If it hadn’t been for the skimpy little thong, my fluids would have been coursing down my thighs and pooling on the floor by now all thanks to the hideous anticipation of the day so far. And no matter how much I wanted to touch myself, I knew very well that I couldn’t - which in turn just heightened my state of arousal to no end. In my head it was so very easy to yank my underwear aside and shove my fingers inside as far up as I could, but reality wasn’t nearly so kind. I hated that I couldn’t wait for him to arrive - whoever it actually was.

It had been a month. A very long month. When you weren’t permitted pleasure of any kind, a week is a stretch – but a month is pure torture. And that described my feelings pretty accurately, because here I was about to accept a guest into my flat; someone from my past – so crudely thrust back into my life - who would, in essence, get free reign to use me however he pleased. And whilst I really didn’t want it to happen, I was just as keen to be thrown to my bed and cured of my frustrations in the only manner that was likely to suffice.

This wasn’t the first time either. For the past three months, a day at the end of each fourth week had played host to the same arrangement: spending virtually the entirety of the afternoon becoming the very model of perfection, slipping into a miniscule schoolgirl outfit that had been dreamt up by an extremely perverted mind, then ultimately opening the door to some abject retard that I barely even remembered from high school - who then went on to have the time of their life, completely at my expense. To all intents and purposes I was letting strangers come into my home to have their way with me, and as disturbing a thought as that should’ve been, having been mysteriously compelled to completely deny myself any kind of pleasure for the whole period between these visits left me far too eager to spread my legs and let them get from me what I’d allegedly denied them back in high school. And they were certainly keen to do just that; none of them were in any way gentle, and not one of them relented from tasting each and every hole as they rammed their members inside me throughout every room of my dingy little flat.

It was all a rather worrying state of affairs. How this was happening to me was a lingering question that seemed impossible to answer: had I been hypnotised or something? Brainwashed, even? How could you force a person to do something like this to themselves without them having any control over the situation? How long was I expected to keep performing in this manner? Until I’d been through every guy in the school..? Locked up as a prisoner within my own body; free to do as I pleased most of the time yet abruptly losing control of my limbs whenever I tried to do something as simple as play with myself? Who was behind this? Who could even do that..?

All I really remembered before it all started was going out for a school disco-themed party at a local club with some friends, and bumping into… hmmm… I wasn’t sure who, but… someone. Someone who had clearly done all of this to me, somehow.

Was I being taught a lesson of some kind? Sure, I was no angel back at school, and I was a bit of a naughty one, granted – and, okay, so I did look pretty hot even then - but what did all that have to do with anything? Why were random guys from my old school coming around knowing full well what was waiting for them, a smile wide on their lips as they realised I truly was everything they’d ever imagined I could be. And what was with the methodical yet firm spanking that I was always given after they’d had their fill of me, my pert rear blushing bright red as they proceeded to sign their names in felt across my blouse – as if it were the last day of school all over again: “Kevin Daniels was ‘ere”; “Michael Davies hit this” and “Gary Thomas rates this 10/10” were already emblazoned in bright lettering across the pale blouse – with plenty of space for more names to come.

I was still admiring my reflection when the doorbell rang, snapping me back to reality. I was buzzing with excitement, and I hated myself for it. Who would it be this time? Another nerd who totally didn’t deserve me? An old boyfriend that I’d hoped never to see again? Maybe I’d get lucky and one of the better looking lads would make an appearance.

I opened the door, far too hastily, to find… no, surely not.

“Hello, Amy. You look… lovely.”

Oh fantastic, so apparently it wasn’t enough that I was free to be used by each of the pupils of old Harmsworth High, but it now seemed that the courtesy was even extended to all of the teachers as well.

“Hi… Mr Humphries…”

My old maths teacher made no attempt to avert his gaze as I gestured for him to enter. He had to be fifty-odd, and hadn’t aged particularly well. He had that stereotypical maths teacher look down to a tee. I could feel his eyes burning into my exposed flesh, taking in my delectable figure that was all wrapped up nice just for him. I tried to convince myself that I hadn’t sunk low enough to let this unkempt man anywhere near me, but my cunt still ached with excitement, my thoroughly wet hole very much committed to the idea even if I wasn’t.

“How have you been?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he did this sort of thing all of the time.

I tried to bite down on my scorn as I answered, not really feeling that small talk made things any better.

“Fine… I guess… you?”

“Oh, isn’t this just delightful, Amy?” he positively beamed.

I looked at him quizzingly, his eyes still roaming the length of my body as he spoke.

“Well, I mean, you were one naughty girl back then, weren’t you?”

“I…” Maybe, but that was the past. I had changed.

“And now, here you are,” he exclaimed, “all dressed up and ready for a little bit of the punishment you should have been given - what is it - eight years ago?”

“I don’t deserve this; I’m not like that anymore!” I ventured, knowing it probably wouldn’t get me very far.

He fixed his eyes with mine for the first time.

“Why do I doubt that, Amy? You dressed like a slut back then, and you’re plainly dressed like a slut right now. And, dearest, I can clearly see how incredibly wet you are down there, so who are you trying to kid, really?”

I tried to tug the hem of the skirt down, already knowing it was futile.

“Teasing all the boys, all the teachers; never getting your homework done, never listening to a word I said in class. You were rude, you swore a lot, you were disruptive and oh, how you knew you were the envy of all the other girls, and the object of lust for all the boys. Do I really need to go on?”

I guessed he didn’t. But that still didn’t give anyone a right to do this to me!

“Have you seen this?” He pulled out an official-looking letter and unfolded it so that I could get a glimpse, “we all received one of these, you see. I’ve called up several of the other teachers – they all have a similar letter in their possession. It’s an invitation. There are four of you listed here: Lauren, Stacey, Samantha and yourself. The old gang, isn’t it? All of you were just as bad as one-another.”

They were the very same friends that I’d gone out with to the school disco some months back. What was he trying to tell me? Had everything been a set-up of some kind? Had we been drugged or something?

“Each of the girls’ names, you included, has a rather long list of boys’ names beside it. The four of you appear to be… making amends, so to speak. The whole year has been divided up between each of you. A reunion of sorts, where everyone the four of you ever mistreated, teased, rejected or bullied gets to have a little bit of payback. Looking at the names on your blouse, I can see you’ve had a few such visits already - it does say right here that we should sign your top to say when we’ve finished with you. Alas, today, as you can see… here… it’s my turn! And I’m so glad that I got you, Amy – rather than one of the other girls - because, by God you were a right little cock-tease, weren’t you?”

So, the other girls were all going through the same thing? Why hadn’t they said anything? But, that said, why hadn’t I told them what was happening to me? It occurred to me only then that I seemed somehow unable to discuss my situation with anyone. How had I not noticed that before..? How in hell was I being controlled like this??

“This letter also gives a nice long list of things that I can make you do just by stating certain keywords. How marvellous! But you know what, Amy; I’d like to offer you a chance to make amends of your own free will,” he gestured down at his crotch, “so why don’t you come over here and unzip me. I’m sure a girl with your reputation knows what to do next, right?”

He made his way over to my couch and sat down, gesturing again, almost politely.

I knew it was inevitable, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t feel like I owed anything to this disgusting man.

“You’re supposed to be a teacher,” I managed, “you can’t go around doing things like this to students!”

“Quite so, which is why it’s handy that you’re no longer a student. Now do come along and show me how sorry you are.”

“Why aren’t you fucking listening to me? You can’t do this! Please, sir!”

He smiled to himself, but I saw no trace of a conscience as he turned to read something from the letter in his hand.

“Well, if you’d rather do things the hard way,” he sat back comfortably, “that filthy mouth of yours could do with being washed out, but let’s shove something in it instead. Amy… naughty girls… like to suck lollipops.”

My killer heels clicked on the floor as I felt myself ushered forwards by the command that my mind apparently couldn’t refuse, finding myself stooping down onto my knees between his legs. My hands effortlessly found the zip as he silently watched me reach inside, transfixed as my elfin hand quickly found what it was looking for.

It wasn’t much to look at, but I hadn’t tugged it out to gaze at it – rather, with an ecstatic jolt from him, I quickly fed it into my mouth and proceeded to suck it like my life depended on it.

He was in heaven, that much I could tell, even as I was in hell – utterly disgusted yet compelled to make every effort to please him. My cunt ached with each downward thrust of my head; my tongue working its magic to excite the entire length of his shaft. Low moans escaped my lips as I tried to fight the mounting desire to play with myself, a craving that felt infinitely more frustrating when you were physically unable to carry it out. My hands may as well have been tied behind my back for all the good that they could do me.

“Oh, God, Amy, stop… stop!”

I pulled away, saliva freely leaking from my lips.

“Wow, you’re very… talented. But I don’t want to finish so early on in the evening, now do I?”

Pathetic, I’d only been sucking him for like a minute. Regardless, the unsavoury taste of his cock was free to linger undisturbed. I would’ve loved a glass of water, but I very much doubted that I’d be getting one.

“Let’s see… oh, how about this,” he was struggling to lower his heart rate and contain his breathing whilst he skimmed the letter again - I guessed his wife didn’t put out for him very often, “Amy, naughty girls don’t need to wear knickers; I’m going to have to confiscate them.”

Another conditioned command. Rising to my feet before him, my hands felt beneath the skirt and took hold of the stringy black thong, before tugging it downwards without a moment’s hesitation, letting it pool around my ankles. Bending to reach the floor, I fed the flimsy number over the back of my stilettos, tall heels stepping out of them in turn, and then rose once more to offer them in his direction.

He took the garment eagerly, excited by their dampness, and pocketed them without further delay.

“A souvenir,” he smirked, eyes suddenly drawn to the freshly-shaven and glistening hole that was now largely exposed to his gaze: no thanks to a skirt that was more of a belt than a fully-fledged item of clothing.

He fumbled with the letter once more, his mind now clearly more clouded by the anticipation of what he was about to receive.

“Ok… Amy… naughty girls like to be on top.”

Oh, finally! Free of underwear, my juices now truly were running down the insides of my legs. I hungered for it, utterly despite the knowledge of who it was that I was about to ride so vigorously and wantonly. As the command pulled my body up onto his lap, I was delirious with excitement, somehow maybe even more than he was right now. When exactly had I become so incredibly easy?

But just as I began to feel around for his cock to guide it inwards, he suddenly stopped me.

“Wait… wait… no…” he still had the letter in hand, and something had clearly piqued his interest, “this is much more appropriate for you I think: Amy, naughty girls like to take it in the ass.”

Disdain washed over me, my disappointment evident. I didn’t want it in there; I needed it in my… ohhhh… Christ that was tight. The command spoken, I impaled myself on his throbbing penis, forcing myself down the shaft without a hint of lubrication or regard to my own level of comfort. It went in slowly and not at all pleasurably, stretching my asshole open whilst his face clearly registered delight at the manner in which I sodomised myself.

His hands found my breasts, fondling them through the sheer fabric, only vaguely helping to push me down onto his eager shaft. When I’d finally got it most of the way in, I jerked up suddenly, knowing only too well that I had to work my way back down once more. I found a rhythm after about a minute of getting my ass accustomed to the deep penetration, whilst my sopping wet cunt continued to go on being neglected. I rode it as well as I was able, quite rough and all the way down to the balls. All sorts of noises escaped my lips as the rampant ass fucking went on and on, and I found myself struggling with the inner turmoil of my overflowing excitement at the hands of this disgusting individual. There was no chance in hell that this perverted old man deserved everything that I was doing for him. I was far too good for him! I was like a twisted dream come true! So why did it all feel so fucking good??

“Oh… Amy… naughty girls deserve to be spanked… ohh…”

I let out a loud cry as my own hand struck my bottom. Without hesitation, my other hand reached out to smack the other cheek, a firm blow falling mere moments later - hands then taking turns to spank first one buttock then the other, all the while shoving his cock into my ass without even breaking stride.

The self-induced spanking was torturous, but each strike against my delicate flesh flexed muscles in my groin region that - coupled with the deep anal penetration was slowly bringing me to orgasm. The expression on my face probably told him as much. Frankly, I was amazed that he was lasting so long himself, but apparently he didn’t believe in sharing anyway.

“Amy… wait… Amy – naughty girls aren’t allowed to cum until they’re told to. Oh fuck yes… Amy!”

Oh, bugger… I’d been so close! Oh, fuck! I was so very close. Right on the edge, even. What a complete fucking bastard! I was right there, but it just wouldn’t tip over. I couldn’t quite climax. Fuck! Oh God, that was so frustrating!

And that was when the contractions caused by the thorough smacking of my rear finally tipped him over the edge, shooting his load deep into my ass to a chorus of pathetic moaning sounds. And when he stopped me - coming to rest sat with his spent shaft all the way inside my rear entrance, my bottom sore to the touch, and my own needs cruelly disregarded, I didn’t think I’d ever felt like such a dirty whore in all my life.

After that, we relocated to the bedroom. It didn’t take him long to regain a throbbing erection once he’d placed me on the bed and mentally sped through all the things that he would get to do to me. And he certainly did just that, taking his time to use me in every conceivable manner and position; tying me up; filling me with toys; finding enough spunk to shoot inside every hole with plenty left to spurt all over my face and tits - which of course I didn’t get chance to wipe clean before he was all raring to shove it inside me again. Oh, and of course he never actually let me cum once. Not even once.

It was very late or maybe even very early – it was hard to tell - when we finally emerged from the bedroom, my clothes and hair in complete disarray; a few buttons torn away; skirt back –to-front; my senses overwhelmed by a long evening of hard and dirty sex that had left me feeling nothing but empty and unfulfilled. All I could taste was cum, and all I could feel between my legs was a damp and filthy numbness where my unceasing arousal had taken refuge. I fidgeted uncomfortably as my heels clicked after him, and I flicked a fleck of cum out of my hair as I watched him collapse back onto the couch.

“Come along,” he motioned, clearly very happy with himself, “over you go.”

Somewhat exhausted, I still relented to his request, bending low and then feeding myself across his lap. As soon as I was in position, he clutched my ponytail tightly, keeping me prone and attentive as I contemplated what came next.

“Do you know why I haven’t let you cum, Amy?”

I couldn’t turn to look at him, and it seemed a rhetorical question anyway, because his hand suddenly found my bottom, a firm smack beginning the embarrassing spanking which was apparently the way these monthly sessions always ended.

“Because it’s what you want. Now, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I let you get what you wanted, now would it?”

He spanked me resolutely as he continued to speak.

“Now be honest, Amy, do you want to cum right now?”

“Yes…” I managed through gritted teeth, each smack inducing an audible yelp despite my best efforts.

“And why is that, exactly?”

“Because… owww… because… I don’t know!”

He increased the pace, each strike seeming to be coming faster than the last.

“It’s because you’re a slut, Amy - you always were.”

“Owww! I’m not a… owww! Not a slut!”

“Actually, it doesn’t even matter what you think,” he suddenly yanked my hair taut, “stay still, Amy!”

My rear was taking quite a beating, my toes curling up with each smack and my cunt igniting with renewed vigour - leaving me rather pitifully rubbing myself against him. The cum-splattered blouse finally gave up trying to keep my boobs contained and they fell free of their prior restraint, bouncing forwards with the force of each blow.

“As I was saying, it doesn’t matter what you think anyway – have you noticed how you’re getting more and more aroused each time I spank you?”

It was getting difficult to concentrate, let alone speak - but he wasn’t much interested in what I had to say, lost in the sound of his own voice.

“The letter says that we should spank you only as much as we think you deserve. What it also says – yet tells us not to tell you - is that each spank we give you will make you permanently more excited. And I mean, permanently. As in, forever. ”

The spanking became fiercer, more energy finding its way into each slap that struck my pert bottom. I fought it half-heartedly, but he had me held firmly in place over his lap.

“What you’re feeling building up down there whilst I smack you… it isn’t going to go away. Not tomorrow when you wake up, not at work, not when you’re showering or even trying to sleep. It’ll still be there this time next year, and every year beyond that. And every single smack makes it more intense, driving you to be hornier and hornier, to crave a good fucking more and more, until eventually you won’t be able to think about anything else except that incredible throbbing between your legs. And even when you do get fucked, as I’m sure you often will, you’ll go straight back to being a horny little slut right after they’ve finished with you. Aroused and frustrated, it’ll be a never-ending cycle. The only time you’ll feel even a hint of satisfaction will be when you’re being filled with cock.”

“It’s ironic, really. It was obvious even way back at school that you were destined to end up as nothing but a cheap whore. You’ve obviously tried your hand at other things, but they just aren’t going to work out, Amy. You see, after the other fourteen, yes – fourteen – guys have come along to play with you, following that up with a good hard spanking which will catapult that aching in your crotch to ever higher levels of torment – you’ll eventually be left with a cunt that yearns for cock all day long, every single day, and the only job you’ll be remotely fit for is standing on street corners picking up men to have sex with you. And you know what? When that happens, as I’m sure it will, I might just be in need of your services at least a few times a week, Amy.”

It was hard to keep track of what he was talking about as the spanking continued relentlessly, and the discomfort in my crotch reached new heights of distraction that - quite despite the battering that my posterior was taking - kept my mind focused firmly on how desperately I needed to cum.

And then it was over.

“Okay, get up you little slut.”

I rose from his lap, my bottom stinging intensely from the thrashing I’d just been given. He picked himself up from the couch and stood before me, eyes locked with my own. Without warning his hand reached out and very gently fingered the opening of my slit as he watched me intently.

“Do you still want to cum, Amy?”

“Yes…” I mustered, effortlessly brought to the edge by his fingers yet still completely incapable of having an orgasm unless he gave permission.

“Why do you want to cum so badly?”

“Because… because… ohh... I’ll have to wait… another month until I get another chance…”

“Ah yes, you can’t pleasure yourself between visits. A nice touch, I feel. I think you’re receiving a very fitting punishment, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I…” Maybe if I played along then he’d give me a little release, “I… yes, I probably deserve… some of this.”

“All of it, actually, Amy. You were a naughty little slut, weren’t you?”

“Oh… please, can I have… I mean, yes. Yes, I was a slut. Okay?”

“And you still are, aren’t you?”

“Ohhh… yes.”

“Sorry, yes –what?”

“Yes, I’m a slut!”

“You would do absolutely anything to cum right now, wouldn’t you, Amy?” He removed his hand from my cunt and instead pulled out a felt marker from his jacket pocket. I was running out of time.

“Yes, anything! Please let me cum… Sir!”

“You’re really gagging for it, aren’t you, you little fuck toy?” guiding my tits back into the blouse and making me look more presentable, he began writing in bright blue marker across my chest, adding his own name to the three that had already come before - and where fourteen further names were yet to be added beyond his.

“Yes, I really am!” My dignity had gone out of the window, I was practically begging for it at this point.

He smiled at me like he was extremely proud of something, and it was oddly unnerving.

“Wonderful, because you’ll be delighted to hear that I’ve spoken to all the other boys on your list and explicitly asked them not to let you have an orgasm when they come to see you, to which they all agreed. They all want to see you get a proper punishment: a punishment fit for a little slut like you.”

“What…” I began.

“That’s like – what - three-and-a-half-years, Amy, without any kind of release or satisfaction. Just a gnawing ever-present state of arousal and frustration, and, yeah, probably a fair bit of fucking when you see the other boys on your list – but absolutely no orgasms for you. Not even one.”

“Why are you doing this?” I managed, not entirely sure I was hearing this correctly.

“Don’t blame me, Amy, it wasn’t me who did all of this to you. I hope I find out one day though – I’ll certainly buy him a drink!”

“But anyway, thank you so much for the fuck, it was lovely. Haven’t had this much fun in a long time. See you again in about four years’ time? Over in the red light district…? Looking forward to it! Bye now Amy, lots a’ kisses and cuddles.”

And with that, he simply strode out the front door.

I stood for a while, taking it all in. I looked down solemnly to find that he had written ‘Mr Humphries gave Amy an A+’. I needed to shower, I’d never felt so cheap and filthy, and it would take an age to wash away the last traces of his presence both within and all over my body. His smell was everywhere. My bedroom reeked of our frantic sexual activities – I would need to throw out the cum-stained sheets, and re-apply a few buttons to the sexy school blouse.

And as I showered, the warm water soothing my delicate skin, I was only too aware that my arousal was refusing to die down, much like the throbbing coming from my rear.

When I woke the next morning with a slight headache, I found my fresh sheets damp with my own excitement and I caught myself grinding against a pillow for probably half an hour whilst I tried to itch this resounding itch that just wouldn’t budge. When I dressed, the tactile fabric of my work attire stimulated my breasts, nipples standing out sharply and all too visibly whilst I tried to make breakfast.

But it wasn’t until I finally sat down at work that his words really sank in. I couldn’t think straight at all. Everyone around me seemed busy and focused on their jobs, but all I was remotely interested in was flirting with the delivery drivers, and the office temps, and well, anything with a penis, really. And even that was unsettling, because I knew they couldn’t give me anything that I wanted, forced as I was to reject any and all advances made towards me. How could I cope like this?

Four weeks later and I was clad in that same school uniform, the cum stains long ago washed out, peering at myself in the mirror as I awaited the arrival of yet another of the boys from school. When that doorbell did finally ring, and some nerdy guy who I couldn’t even remember the name of found his way into my flat, I was all over him, in full-on seduction mode. My tits were always thrust in his direction; his hands encouraged to touch wherever he pleased; his roving eyes directed to feast on my curves, and his cock retaining a thundering erection from the moment he walked in.

I whispered in his ear all the filthy things that I wanted him to do to me, before falling to my knees and making love to his cock with my mouth. The last month had been a nightmare – my cunt was permanently wet wherever I went, my mind filled with filth pretty much all day long whilst I tried to concentrate on other things. If only I could show this guy that it was worth his while to let me have a little something in return, maybe I could get through this. Even just once a month was better than waiting three-and-a-half fucking years!

But almost as if he could read my mind, even as I tongued his eager shaft, using every trick in the book to excite him as I hungrily sucked him off, he still found time to go ahead and spoil everything.

“By the way… oh God yes, that’s so good… look, before we get started… Amy - naughty girls aren’t allowed to cum until they’re told to. Oh fuck… yes… just like that!”

At that exact moment, amidst a crushing wave of disappointment, I knew Mr Humphries was going to get his wish. If only I’d listened whilst I was at school, made more effort to do something with my life rather than worrying about being popular and sexy and getting boys to fight over me and all that other nonsense. Now all I had before me was the excruciating knowledge that I was well on my way to becoming an extremely talented, extremely good-looking and filthy-minded little whore.

But the really fucked-up part was that I was already looking forward to it.