The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hetero, male dom, highly nonconsensual, no physical coersion.
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Another mind control story, this time using telepathy.

Copyright © 1993 by the Mind Control Fan.

Duplication of this story for non-commercial purposes is permitted, as long as no changes or omissions are made. All other rights are reserved, and copies must retain this notice. Enjoy,

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The Chinese Girl

I had managed to obtain the last component of my telepathic amplifier at great expense and hardship. I was anxious to test it out, but I was also flat broke. Maybe I could work on both goals at the same time. I reassembled the amplifier, stuck it in my pocket, and headed off for the Campus Employment Office.

I got there after a short walk, signed out the thin folder of neurobiology jobs, and looked around for a seat. I was in luck. The place was packed, but there was an empty seat across from a rather good-looking Chinese girl. She was wearing jeans cut-off shorts and a light blue San Francisco t-shirt showing Coit Tower. She looked up briefly at me, saw that I was neither someone she knew or needed to be concerned about, and returned to her work. She was writing down addresses and phone numbers in a notebook, presumably looking for summer jobs. She appeared to be very diligent and organized. She would be a perfect test subject.

I tried projecting my first thought commands. “I am the guy sitting across from you. Pass your wallet to me, but don’t consciously realize that you’re doing so.” The Chinese girl paused in her writing. I held my breath. Her right hand dropped her pen and began rooting around in her purse. Her head was still cocked in her left hand, and she was still frowning at what she was reading in undiminished concentration. Her right hand emerged, holding the wallet, and slid it across the table towards me. Her hand then went back to pick up the pen. I watched as the Chinese girl resumed writing, none the wiser.

My heart began to race, and I needed to take a few deep breaths. Fuckin A, the amplifier actually worked. My years of research had finally paid off. Screw the dissertation, the interminable experiments, the fights with my advisor, the droning conferences. I could now look forward to a life of wealth and idle pleasure. Thoughts raced through my head as I glanced through the wallet. I saw that the Chinese girl’s name was Kim Lee. I briefly inspected assorted family pictures and credit cards and then put everthing back. I returned the wallet to the middle of the table. “You can take your wallet back now, but don’t notice that either.” Her right hand did so. I was anxious to move on to more intricate and pleasurable commands.

“Kim, I’ll be giving you a series of mental commands over the next several hours. Please obey all of them without hesitation. As you obey them, don’t realize that you’re doing so or that anything out of the ordinary is going on. To the best of your knowledge you’ll be continuing to go uninterrupted through the job lists. Nod if you understand.” The Chinese girl’s head bobbed once, causing her long hair to fall across her face. Her hand came up to brush it back.

“Take off your right shoe and put it on the table between us.” The Chinese girl’s hand released the pen and dropped beneath the table. She leaned over, lowering her shoulder, at the same time swiveling her head to maintain a clear view of what she was reading. She fumbled for a long time with something near the floor. Kim’s hand finally came up holding a sandal with multiple straps and buckles, which it then dropped matter-of-factly in the middle of the table.

Kim straightened up in her chair and resumed her writing. I kept examining her, waiting for some reaction. She finally realized someone was staring in her direction and raised her head. I didn’t want to spook the Chinese girl, so I quickly glanced away. She looked around for a minute and then returned to her note-taking, shaking her head. To prevent this from being an ongoing problem, I suggested that to Kim that she wouldn’t notice if I stared at her in the future. I also moved my knapsack to temporarily cover her shoe.

Time to give myself a present. “Kim, play footsie with me under the table. Be sure to pay special attention to rubbing my crotch.” I felt the well-manicured toes of the Chinese girl start to swirl around my ankle. Upstairs, Kim’s note-taking was going well. Downstairs, her foot slipped under my pants leg and began rubbing itself along my calves. It then circled around my knees and ran lightly across my inner thighs. The Chinese girl unknowingly slumped in her seat to give her leg greater reach. By the time her foot began to fondle my crotch I was already quite hard.

After several minutes of increasingly vigorous stroking from Kim’s lower extremity I was ready to come. I gave off a sibilant moan. My Chinese girl looked up at me with a brief expression of prim digust (for making such a rude noise in a public place) and returned to her reading. I reached between my legs and with some effort managed to immobilize her squirming foot. It was deceptively muscular. I tickled her sole and looked up. No reaction. I pinched her foot as hard as I could. Still no reaction. This was interesting. I had managed to totally dissociate arbitrarily selected regions of perceptual and motor cortex from the cognitive association areas. This could be fun for hours. I mentally suggested to my Chinese girl that she stop and put her shoe back on. It was time for me to figure out what we should do next.

I decided I wanted to know more about my first test subject. Since Kim already had a notebook and a pen, it would be easy for me to give her a writing assignment. I had her turn to a fresh page and mentally dictated a short preface, which she carefully copied. I then gave her some open-ended questions. I took my paper lunch bag out of my knapsack, leaving the rest of my stuff in front of her, and stood up. Her instructions were to finish my assignment and then to continue with the work that she had really came here for. As I walked out, I saw her hunched over her seat, scribbling furiously, the tip of her tongue poking out from the corner of her lip.

I came back from lunch after forty-five minutes and saw Kim still scribbling away. I resumed my seat in front of her, placing my empty lunch bag back on the table. She was apparently still working on my assignment. My Chinese girl finally stopped writing about five minutes later and put down her pen. She paused, looking like a wind-up toy whose spring had just run down. Then she started up again, turning back several pages in her notebook to resume jotting down the phone numbers and addresses of prospective jobs.

After working so hard it was time for her to take a break. First I had her tear out the notebook pages containing her assignment, and slide them to me. They were covered front and back with neat, well-formed script. I made some additional telepathic suggestions. Kim stood up, reached out her hand to grab my empty lunch bag, and started to head towards the bathroom. I had an excellent view of her tight butt swaying back and forth as she walked out.

While I was waiting for her to come back, I looked over what she had written. First came the dictation. “My name is Kim Lee, and I am your slave. I’m not even aware that I’m writing this. Isn’t that funny? My silly brain still thinks that I’m busily looking for summer jobs. However, the rest of me is anxious and willing to obey your every command. Please don’t feel guilty about taking advantage of me, since it won’t bother me in the slightest way. I know that you are a hard-working, underappreciated, and very intelligent graduate student who deserves the quality recreation that my firm young body can provide.” Next came her signature, followed by her answers on the essay section of my assignment.

Being a conscientious student, Kim had copied each of the questions down. They were as follows:

  1. Please supply all the relevant details about yourself that you would expect to fill in if this were a job application to a modeling agency.
  2. Please describe all your sexual experiences and fantasies during the past week.
  3. Please describe your deepest, most embarrasing secret.

The details of Kim’s responses are best left to the gentle imaginations of my readers.

I skimmed the essays, keeping one eye on the door, awaiting Kim’s return. I heard suppressed laughter and looked up. My Chinese girl had just come back into the room. She also heard the laughter and looked around to find its source. This caused even more laughter. Blushing vaguely in embarrassment and confusion, Kim headed back to her seat across from me. She was barefoot, but this wasn’t the reason everyone was laughing. It had more to do with the sandals that she held unwittingly between her tightly clenched teeth.

As she passed me, Kim casually deposited my paper lunch bag back on my side of the table. She sat down across from me and resumed her note-taking. I looked at the sandals dangling from her mouth and smiled. They were quite funny. They were also drawing too much attention, so I had her drop them back into the center of the table. I took a peek in the lunch bag. In it were her bra and panties, which she had also unknowingly taken off while in the bathroom and brought back to me. I waited five minutes and then quietly moved all these treasures to the safety of my knapsack.

I looked over at Kim’s breasts, loosely shrouded within her t-shirt. “Yawn and stretch,” I prompted. She did so, tightening the fabric around her breasts and conveniently displaying her large nipples. “Again, please.” My Chinese girl uncomplainingly complied. “Once more.” Her breasts swelled a third time. I felt my cock hardening again and knew it was time for us to depart for a more private location.

“Kim, please pack up your things. It’s time for us to go.” My Chinese girl cooperatively stopped writing and shoved her pen and notebook inside her knapsack. I packed up my own stuff. I then relayed another virtual scene to keep her occupied. “Kim, in a minute I’ll get up and start walking out of here. You’ll follow, staying about 10 feet behind me. You’ll no longer think that you’re looking for jobs in the campus employment office. Instead, while you’re following me and until I give you further notice, you’ll think that you’re walking home. The walk will take a lot longer than usual, because you’ll keep running into old friends whom you haven’t seen in a while and who’ll have a lot of fascinating things to say. As before, you will continue to obey all orders that I give you without question, and you won’t notice that you’re doing anything out of the ordinary.” I stood up, and we walked out of the building.

I started strolling through the campus with Kim in my wake. In front of me I spotted a blonde linguistics grad from one of my seminars. She was walking slowly, deep in conversation with her chair, gesturing furiously while making some bullshit academic point. I had been fantasizing about getting into those tight pants for some time now. “Go to the library and wait on the steps,” I projected. “Wait on the steps and smile at people as they pass by.” The blonde grad blinked several times, looking momentarily confused. Then she stopped talking, turned, and began striding rapidly in the direction of the library. “Uh, I guess we’ll take this up again later,” hurredly called out the grad’s chair to her trailing backside.

I loved my new toy. It would be especially fun at parties. I looked around, searching for ideas. “Hop,” I commanded to my human shadow. Behind me, the Chinese girl tucked her rear leg tightly beneath her ass. She commenced bobbing stiffly up and down on the other leg, cheeks, breasts, and ass all jiggling at once. “Faster,” I said, making the oscillations of her body parts even more frenzied. She began to flail her arms to try to keep her balance. I didn’t want her to hurt herself unduely. “Okay, go back to just walking.” The Chinese girl flowed back into her usual athletic glide.

Kim and I reached the front door of the Neurosciences Building. My office was on the third floor. I normally would have taken the elevator, but today I preferred the stairs. I had my Chinese girl walk closely in front of me, so I had an excellent view of the muscles rippling and bunching in her legs and calves as she climbed. We reached my office door, and I unlocked it. Fortunately, no one was around, although I suppose with my new toy it wouldn’t have made much difference. I turned on the light, and Kim followed me in.

“Stand at attention, Private Kim,” I mentally barked, as I reached out to close the door. She immediately stiffened. I walked around her, critically checking her posture. On a whim I decided to poke my finger into her soft breasts and tight belly. This was a mistake. She flinched, her unseeing eyes rolling in terror, her mouth opening wide as if preparing to scream. I realized that from her point of view she had suddenly been prodded by an invisible poltergeist in the middle of her inner walk. “You didn’t feel that,” I quickly soothed her. “You won’t feel anything that happens between us.” Her expression returned to its previous bland serenity. That was close.

I moved to clear some space off my desk. I starting transferring piles of computer print-outs, xerox reprints, old soda cans, and half-empty potato chip bags to the floor. When I was done, I went over to my office boom-box and popped in a CD. I turned the volume up about half-way. The retro new-wave trilling of “Good Stuff” by the B-52’s filled the room. “Climb up there and dance for me,” I prompted. Kim hurried to comply, and I plopped down in my desk chair to watch.

In her own abstracted way, the Chinese girl was a very good dancer. The movements of her head, hands, breasts, pelvis, and feet all counterpointed each other in complex syncopation. After five minutes of strenuous dancing, her arms and legs were covered with a sheen of sweat. Her breathing rate, however, had hardly changed at all. Obviously, my Kim was in good shape. As she started to sweat more, her t-shirt also became wet, sticking to and outlining her breasts. With her long hair swaying behind her, she looked very erotic.

“Strip,” I commanded. She kept dancing, the shirt going over her head, the shorts dropping to be kicked away. That was all she had on. “Fondle yourself. Both hands, tits and cunt.” Her dancing hands drifted to her erogenous zones. Her dripping face remained impassive. I decided she needed a touch of internal stimulation. “Kim, as you are walking home, you see that guy Chuck, the one you were fantasizing about. He’s coming over to talk to you. Maybe he wants to ask you for a date. Isn’t that exciting?” At last, Kim’s breathing started to quicken. Her nipples grew red and hard, and the musk of her sex filled the air. She was ready, and so was I.

I had already decided to take her doggy style with both of us standing. My “all-nighter” couch afforded some other possiblities, but would have been quite cramped. “Kim, stop dancing and climb down. Stand on your toes about three feet in front of my desk. Lean forward and prop yourself up with your arms.” She did exactly as she was told. I unzipped my jeans and dropped my shorts. As I reached out my hand to stroke her rounded ass, I had another idea. “Kim, do me a favor. Each time I press into you, give out a large squeak, as though you were a giant inflatable mouse.” I penetrated her easily and started thrusting myself vigorously forward against her muscular butt.

“Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek! Eek!”

“Unnhhh!” I collapsed on top of my Chinese girl, almost knocking her over. In a daze I climbed off and started pulling up my clothes. Wow, that was quite a rush. My head was still pounding.

I dropped into my chair a second time. I positioned Kim on her hands and knees in front of me so I could lay my feet in the middle of her supple back. Happy with my new living footrest, I leaned back in my chair, simultaneously gazing out the window at the campus scurrying below me. I reviewed my plans for the rest of the afternoon. The bank, and definitely the mall. There was something I was forgetting. Ah yes, the library. Can’t miss the library. My tired cock stirred briefly. I hoped I was up to it.

After getting my breath back, I stood up and reached for my knapsack. I told Kim to get dressed and handed her back her bra and panties. I decided to keep the sandals as a souvenir. It was time to say goodbye to my favorite Chinese girl. “Kim, give me a kiss. The same kind of kiss that you gave to that guy Bill when you were making out with him earlier this week.” Kim walked over to me, stood on her toes, put her arms around me, and pressed her lips up towards mine. As our tongues met, I looked closely into her wide, shining eyes. They were not blank—never blank—just distracted. I reached up to stroke her hair. After a minute I broke off the kiss, a little misty-eyed. I would miss her.

“Kim, go home. When you get to the part of the walk that you usually take between the Campus Employment office and your house, merge what you’ve been seeing in your head with what you’re actually see in front of you. After that perceive things the way you normally do, remembering that you spent a perfectly ordinary day at the Campus Employment office looking for summer jobs and that you’re now going home. However, don’t realize that your sandals are missing until you get back to your room, or until someone points it out to you.” She picked up her knapsack and her purse and headed for my door. The last thing of I ever saw of the Chinese girl was a glimpse of her trim ankles turning the corner. I went on to have even more exciting adventures with my telepathic amplifier. Kim never did figure out what happened to those sandals.

The End