The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

(Thursday evening)

Veronica put on something that wasn’t a sex costume in order to have dinner with her son. The meal went smoothly, and it was starting to feel like old times again.

Afterward, Veronica told Samuel that she would do the dishes, then probably go to bed—she was feeling tired. He went back to his room, and she began scrubbing plates and pans.

Well, today hadn’t worked out the way she had planned. After promising Samuel this morning that she wouldn’t slut around, she had planned on confronting Elsbeth, getting to the bottom of this dating service and putting an end to all this. Instead, she had spread and sucked for her ex-husband and his friends all day.

But something was tickling at the edges of her mind as she scrubbed dishes.

There seemed to be two types of clients of the dating service: those done for and those done unto. Herself, Elsbeth, KC, etc fell in the latter category—let’s call them the pussies. Al, Coach Nesmith, Doug, etc fell into the former—let’s call them the cocks. The pussies seemed to be non-specific as to the cocks—Al was able to show her his tiepin, say he was from EZ, then proceed to pork the hell out of her at her consent and her pussy’s delight. So it seemed any cock could use any pussy.

The cocks could also “dumb down” the pussies with a secret phrase—she remembered that much. Presumably, they also brought the pussies out of that dumbed-down state with another secret phrase, although Veronica didn’t remember much from that spell she spent dumbed except the need to cum and the ecstatic moaning whenever she did.

When the dicks showed their tiepin to a pussy and took her on a date, it “turned on” the pussy to do anything sexual that the cock wanted. And Veronica knew from experience, that meant ANYTHING. With relish. And flourish.

Her normal waking state had also been modified so she wouldn’t get TOO pissed off about being used as a sex puppet. Sure, she might be able to play at chastising the cocks, but she couldn’t work up the gumption to cut off their balls or kill them like they deserved.

Except ... when Doug had said that one phrase, that released her to have true feelings.

And that was the key. If she could tease that phrase out of her memory, she could free herself, at least temporarily. If she had to, she could pretend to be still under his spell until she could get Doug compromised—tied and gagged—and then she could carve on him with a steak knife if she had to until he revealed how she could free herself permanently.

She closed her eyes as she scrubbed the last plate and tried to remember the magic phrase. But the hate and blood-spilling anger that she felt immediately afterward occluded it.

The doorbell rang as she turned off the water. Oh, please God, not another date—she had promised Sammy this morning that she would stay home with him tonight. And she really didn’t feel like being turned into a whore again.

“I’ve got it,” Samuel called.

Veronica peeked through the doorway. Please ....

She sighed relief. It was Barry—Samuel’s friend since childhood.

She mopped up the counter with a dishtowel, still trying to tease that phrase out of her memory, then turned off the light and stepped into the den.

Barry was holding up a pair of scarlet panties.

Ohgod: with a little yellow and white mini-pom-pom sewn onto the front.

Veronica’s stomach plummeted.

“Barry!” her voice cracked. “What are you DOING with those?!”

The young man turned beet red but held his ground. “You won’t BELIEVE people these days! I was just telling Sammy. I filled up at Milton’s gas station last night and went to use the bathroom while I was there. And there in the stall is this man and woman just going at it. I never would have believed it! I climbed up to peek over the stall wall—you know, just to make sure that it wasn’t just some guy having convulsions and needed someone to call the paramedics for him—and there they are, going at it. She’s bent over and pressed up against the door, so all I can see is her butt—and it was a really fine butt, I have to admit—and the guy looks up and it’s one of those coaches from back in high school!”

“Which one?” Samuel asked.

“You know I was always excused from gym, or—” He made asthmatic wheezing sounds. “So I never learned any of the coaches’ names. So, anyway, they both know I’m there now, and the woman is just begging the guy to go back to pumping her.”

I did NOT, Veronica thought, but held her tongue in time.

“And she’s begging him to ram it up her BUTT. And then he finally DOES!”

I did NOT!

“And she’s bucking and screaming until he finally blows it up her butt. Then she turns and drops and cleans the dirty thing off WITH HER MOUTH!”

I DID NOT!

“THEN ... she looks up at me, meets my eyes and asks me if I want her to give me oral sex—only she uses a dirtier word than that for it!”

I did NOT, Veronica fidgeted. You little liar, Barry Stevenson!

But at least ... this confirmed that he hadn’t seen her face.

“I told her no thanks, I already have a girl, but I’d be glad to take her soaking wet panties off her hands for her. She holds them up to me, but when I reach to take them from her, she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her and pulls out my index finger, then sucks on it, you know, like it was an erection!”

Veronica crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Barry, you’re what? Five foot four? And you were hanging over this stall wall far enough that she could pull your arm all the way down and stick your finger in her mouth?! You’re embellishing, young man.” He was lying through his teeth, was what he was doing!

“I swear to God,” he raised his right hand and nodded. “That’s how it happened. Then she hands me the panties and tells me, ‘Anytime.’” Barry shook his head. “I tell you—people are just insane!”

Veronica held out her hand. “I think you’d better give those panties to me, Barry.”

“No!” He snatched them to his chest. “They’re mine. I earned them—for suffering through such a traumatic ordeal!”

“Well, I think you’d better stop telling that story, young man. It has enough holes to qualify as Swiss cheese. Tell it again, and someone’s going to call you on them.” She let out her breath, relieved. He hadn’t seen anything to identify her. And she hadn’t shown anything just now to reveal that it had been her begging to get reamed. She should be safe.

Unless Sammy dug out a yearbook so Barry could identify the coach ....

But his yearbook was on the attic. “Like I said, sweetie, I’m going on to bed.” The attic door dropped down right outside her bedroom door and they wouldn’t try going up there while she was trying to sleep. “Be sure to lock up when Barry leaves. And no more than an hour. Barry needs to get home at a reasonable hour.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Veronica walked back up the hall to her bedroom and changed into a long flannel nightgown while Samuel and Barry turned off most of the lights and went into Sammy’s room, pulling the door partly shut so the light wouldn’t disturb her.

Wanting to make sure the little blabbermouth had dropped his story, Veronica crept to her son’s bedroom door and listened.

“Nah,” Barry was saying, “I don’t care which one it was. If I knew who it was, somebody would just subpoena me or something to get the guy fired and I don’t want that.”

Good boy. Because you’d cause a lot of trouble for the woman too.

“What did she look like? What color hair? What color eyes?”

“Uhm ... blonde. Yeah, blonde hair. Sandy-blonde. And violet eyes, man, violet eyes. Like Elizabeth Taylor!”

“Are you sure? Not too many people have violet eyes.”

Long sniffing sound. “Aahh ...,” Barry exhaled. “You can still smell her on them, can still smell her sex juices! Man, these things were so wet last night, it was like you stuck them in a sink full of water!”

Shit! Her pussy HAD been slobbering last night! And the little shit probably COULD still smell her on them.

“Here. You have a whiff.”

NO! Veronica’s eyes widened. DON’T, Sammy! Don’t! You know not what you sniff!

There was a long sniffing sound as Veronica clenched her teeth.

“You’re right. I CAN still smell sex juices on them.”

Shit! Shit! Shit! She had no doubt that Samuel had never before smelled sex juices in his life. And his first scent of them had to be ... his mother’s!

“Mmm ... mm ... mmm.”

“What are you doing?!” Samuel asked with a perplexed tone.

“Aahh. You can still TASTE her on them!”

Ohgod! No! Do NOT!

“Here. You taste too.”

NO! You KNOW better, Sammy! You don’t know who that woman WAS! Do NOT! She tried to will him with her mind to have better sense than that.

She peeked through the cracked door to see her son bringing the underwear to his mouth.

“NO!” she shrieked, bursting in the door to run to her son and snatch the panties from his stunned hand. “Don’t you DARE put those in your mouth! You don’t KNOW what kinds diseases that slut HAD! I’m confiscating these right now! And Barry, you need to be leaving. Right now.”

“Ehr, yes, ma’am.”

“Now.” She pointed to the front door redundantly.

“See you later, Sammy,” he said, backing toward the door.

She got Barry gone, then insisted Sammy go to bed now too, then walked back to her bedroom with the panties.

What had she done?! Her son—her innocent son!—had almost tasted her sex juices—HER sex juices!—before ....

Oh, just what had she DONE?!

She stripped naked—that just felt right tonight—and crawled into bed, resisting the urge to watch her orientation tape tonight. She knew it would just take her further down the path to slut-hood.

She reached down and touched herself, fingering her clit, telling herself that it would help her to linger at that half-awake, half-asleep state. That was where she stood the best chance of teasing that phrase out of her memory.

For hours, she wallowed in a sexual haze, rousing herself from the shallow cove of almost-sleep to finger herself and remind herself to work again on retrieving that phrase that was the key to escape.

The key to her own free will again ....

The key to her son not tasting her sexual juices ....

To him not ... putting her panties ... in his mouth ... panties that were still slightly damp ... from where she had leaked ....

At 3:30, as she imagined Barry and the bag boy at the grocery store DP’ing her, she snapped awake.

Pussies need to be filled with lust and heads drained of hate.

Pussies need to be filled with lust and heads drained of hate!

That was the phrase!

She sprang from bed, sprinted to her adjoining bathroom, flipped the light switch and looked at herself in the mirror.

This was it. She held her hand to her face and noticed it was trembling with excitement. This was her door back to freedom!

“Pussies need to be filled with lust and heads drained of hate!”

She didn’t feel any different. She waited a few moments.

Still nothing.

She said it again.

It wasn’t working ....

This afternoon she had been ready to carve Doug’s heart from his chest with her fingers if needed, if offered the opportunity to.

There was none of that now.

Actually, she’d sort of like to suck that virile cock of his ....

She went back to her bed and sat, disappointed.

Maybe it needed to be said by someone else ....

Maybe it needed to be said by someone with a red and green tiepin .... She hoped not. That would be a lot harder to pull off.

Damn!

To be so close ... to have teased that phrase out of the knotted ghosts in her memory ... but to have failed to release herself ....

Damn!

She turned off the light and rolled over to go to sleep, disgusted.