The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Amelia walks along the footpath, passing from streetlight to streetlight. It is a warm night, but even so, a cool breeze causes her to cross her arms as she walks. Sometimes she rubs her exposed shoulders, adjusts the spaghetti-strap top, or pulls her shoulder-length brown hair out of the way.

Why did she have to do that, she wonders. She’d thought, for one single, insane moment, that Jessica would be interested in her. She’d seen her kiss other girls when they’d been out together, and she knows Jessica had at least had a short relationship with someone before.

When Amelia decided to make her move, Jessica flatly rejected her. Did she say the wrong thing? Had she been reading the girl’s signals all wrong? Her heart had been beating fast ever since Jessica had called her up and asked if she wanted to go to the club.

They’d hung out in the same group of friends together in high school, chose to go to the same university together. That had solidified things, and the two girls made a promise to each other that, as soon as they were able, they’d move in together. Jessica revealed her big secret to Amelia then, in her casual way.

“Not gay, just… into girls.. I like them more, I think.”

Amelia didn’t have the heart to tell her how that made her feel. She’d always found Jessica attractive, but had never thought she stood a chance.

Now, Amelia thinks with a sigh, she knows she doesn’t stand a chance. She rationalises it as Jessica not wanting that to impede their friendship, especially as the two of them were still getting the hang of uni life. They’d been looking at moving into a flat near the university together, sharing rent and other costs to make life as a student easier. Amelia had been hesitant because she was only on Austudy right now, while Jessica worked part time in a clothing store.

As she walks, lost in these thoughts, Amelia notices movement in the corner of her eye. She looks up at the building she is walking past, its large glass façade standing darkly in the amber glow of the streetlights.

She recognises it as the indoor pool that closed for redevelopment a few years ago. The tinted windows are topped by beige stone, giving the building a look that might have been popular in the 1970s, but years of pollution and age has faded the colour to a mottled beige-grey, and the whole thing has the appearance of something that needs to be water-blasted clean.

It’s only when Amelia turns away that the movement catches her eye again. Something inside it, perhaps? She looks, but can’t make any detail out in the glass. She goes back to focusing on the footpath directly in front of her.

This time, she hears a quiet, girlish laugh. She turns all the way around, checking behind her but finding only amber pools of light. A small pulse of adrenaline starts to run through her.

It occurs to her, briefly, that she may have taken a spiked drink at the club. Maybe this is how hallucinations start. She dismisses that idea almost as quickly— the only drinks she’d had were ones she’d bought herself, and Amelia was always quite vigilant about where her drink was and who was near it.

She turns back around, and this time she sees it in the window of the pool complex. A dark female silhouette, possibly with blonde hair. Some kind of light is shining from the other side of the complex, allowing her to just make out the figure.

Slowly, Amelia notices more and more silhouettes. Most of them are sitting around, some are holding each other, and she’s sure that at least two pairs are kissing passionately.

“What the hell…” she says aloud, quietly. A girl steps up to the window, and Amelia is able to clearly see her.

She is, Amelia notices first, quite pretty. A tall, slender girl, probably the same age or a bit older than Amelia. She has perky breasts and wide, brown eyes. Black hair tumbles down her back to her bum, and her thighs are shaped enough to make Amelia feel a tinge of wetness.

The girl’s body is covered in what appears to be a black swimsuit, styled to come right up to the neck. Amelia knows the kind of outfit, one with a zipper up the back that’s always slightly harder than it should be to get open or closed. A previous girlfriend had one, and once asked Amelia to give her head through it. She’d said it was the most exquisite feeling, but Amelia hadn’t seen it. Why put something between you and someone else’s tongue, she’d said at the time.

Right now, though, all this girl has to do is point, and Amelia would lick at her through the window. She is that beautiful, and Amelia wants her badly. Wants them all, even. What kind of all-girl swimsuit party takes place, unannounced, at a long-abandoned indoor pool?

Amelia is standing right up against the window now, not entirely sure of how she got there, across the small dead garden between the building and the footpath. She can see them all, frolicking in the pool without any cares in the world. The girls cover a wide variety of body shapes and sizes. Amelia wonders how so many got here now.

She hears laughter again, and sees a second girl standing next to the first. This girl is a bit shorter, with slightly larger breasts and a more pronounced waist. Her hair is blonde and shoulder-length, and her eyes are blue. She is dressed in a short bright pink dress that Amelia somehow knows is lycra and designed for swimming. She is smiling in the same dreamy way as the other girl, but her eyes seem to have more of a focus. She’s looking directly at Amelia.

The urge to rip her short denim shorts off and plunge two fingers deep into her own pussy is not quite strong enough to overwhelm Amelia, but it’s a near thing. She can easily imagine herself lying in bad, one of these girls at each side, maybe each sucking on one of her nipples while their hands work her into a series of orgasms so strong that she wouldn’t even remember their names.

The girl in the pink dress smiles at her, or maybe changes the smile she otherwise permanently wears to a more direct, mischevious one. Her hands grip the hem of the lycra dress, and pull it up. Amelia watches, completely awestruck, as the girl reveals a completely hairless pair of lips, with just a hint of the moist, darker pink heaven that lies within.

Amelia squeezes her own thighs together, trying to stop herself from coming there and then. She isn’t sure if the wet trail she can feel down her inner thigh is real or another hallucination.

The girl in the pink dress gently lowers the hem again, and some part of Amelia’s mind returns to her. She has to get in on this party. After what happened with Jessica at the club, this is just what she needs a lesbian pool party-slash-orgy. She walks around the building, finding her way to the entrance, which fronts on to a carpark at the back, away from the street. The entrance is two sets of doors, forming something of an airlock, with a small area behind for people to pay the entrance fee and buy food.

It occurs to her that she might have to pay to get in. She doesn’t even have her bikini on her. As she passes through the second set of doors, a girl stands there, behind the ticket counter. This girl is dressed only in a black lycra rash vest, zipped up at the front. Between her legs is the head of another girl. Amelia notes that, for someone who appears to be getting the licking of a lifetime, the girl seems rather detached, still able to smile at Amelia as she walks in.

Amelia herself is not, by any standard, a prudish girl. She likes to think she has a nice body, and she has no qualms about showing it off. Along with her spaghetti-strap top, she’s wearing short denim shorts, and a pair of sandals. It really isn’t that much more than a one-piece, or even a conservative two-piece swimsuit. Yet, as she passes the girls in the entry way and steps into the main pool area, she feels extremely overdressed.

She also notices that, while every girl here is wearing swimwear, very little of it is what she would consider fashionable swimwear. There are no tiny string bikinis or g-strings or ruched one-pieces. Most of the girls are wearing outfits that trend towards the sporty end of the swimsuit spectrum. A few of them are wearing lycra dresses designed for swimming, like the girl in the window, and several more wear the same high-necked, zip-back outfits of the other girl. Others wear more traditional sports swimsuits, with racer-back styles, and even a few zip-front one pieces. The two-pieces are similarly sporty, mostly featuring crop-tops and briefs or even boy-leg shorts.

Assuming, that is, that the girls are wearing the bottoms at all. While none of them are naked that Amelia could see, a lot of them were only half dressed, like the girl in the rash vest. Each one is perfectly clean-shaven down there, making the narrow, neatly trimmed pitch that Amelia keeps seem positively traditional in comparison.

She becomes aware of the sounds of pleasure going on around her. The laughter she’d heard briefly outside is amplified in here, and there are many moans and little sighs. What really gets her attention is that nobody seems to speak. If a girl wants another girl to come to her, or follow her or join her in passionate congress, it is done with subtle gestures and body language.

She watches as one girl, dressed in a pink one-piece with a black zip up the front, lies on the concrete while another, shorter, almost stocky, girl dressed only in a red crop-top with straps not unlike the ones on Amelia’s shirt walks up to her and gently kneels, placing her pussy perfectly over the pink swimsuit girl’s mouth. Immediately, and without any real communication between them other than the positioning, the pink swimsuit girl starts licking and sucking. As she does this, she also starts to masturbate, running one of her hands down her side and to her crotch, where it begins idly moving. Her other hand runs up and down crop-top girl’s stomach, while crop-top girl slides her own hands up under the crop-top, massaging her own breasts.

As she watches, fascinated and aroused, Amelia feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns to see the blonde-haired girl in the pink dress smiling at her, this time without any glass between them. The girl beckons her to follow, leading her to a wall, which the girl stands against. She then lifts the skirt again.

Amelia immediately knows what to do. She wants this. Needs it. After Jessica’s rejection, after leaving the club earlier than usual, feeling isolated and alone, she needs this. She’s on her knees, her tongue working its way around this girl’s smooth, moist centre.

Normally, she doesn’t like to do this. She prefers to use her hands to pleasure a partner, working her fingers in and out of them. That’s not to say she doesn’t mind the feeling of being licked herself. Likes to receive, not give. With the partners she’s had before now, Amelia has always been the one in charge. She would take the initiative. In one case, the other girl hadn’t even thought of herself as gay at all. She’d just been taken in by Amelia’s charm and desire. That, the part of Amelia’s mind not currently concentrating on bringing the girl in the pink swimming dress to orgasm thinks, had been fun.

Now, Amelia is the one being taken charge of. She is, as an old dominatrix she sometimes speaks to online would say, submitting. And it feels so damn good, she thinks. The girl in the swimdress is running her hands through Amelia’s hair, grabbing her and forcing her as close as possible.

Amelia becomes aware of other hands on her body. A pair around her midriff, the area where her top and her shorts don’t quite meet. They are reaching up under her top. Amelia can’t stop them. Her own arms are wrapped around the legs of the girl in the pink dress, gripping them for support.

The hands make their way under her top to her bra, through which they begin a firm but gentle massaging of Amelia’s breasts. The bra is plain and black, and the smooth material inside the cups does wonderful things to Amelia’s nipples.

A new pair of hands begins working at her shorts. They manage, after a short time fumbling around, to undo the button and pull down the short zip. Amelia immediately feels her shorts loosen around her hips, cool air flowing between her inner thighs. The hands work their way there, and start massaging, rubbing her wet lips under her blue polyester panties.

All the while, Amelia lets out breathless little grunts of pleasure. At least, when enough of her mouth isn’t surrounding the girl in the swimdress’s pussy. At some point, the shorts and panties are pushed down her legs, and Amelia has to briefly unfold her knees to let them past. Soon after that, she is aware that her bra has been pushed up, and the pair of hands there are now working directly on her breasts, kneading and massaging them

Amelia feels those hands move behind her momentarily, unclasping her bra, then lifting it, and her top, off. She has to move her mouth away from the moist, pink heaven in front of her, but as soon as the clothes are off, she goes back to it, now naked except for her sandals.

The extra pairs of hands, representing a girl in a blue one-piece and another in a pair of red boy-leg lycra shorts, continue to work at her, two on her breasts, massaging them and teasing at her nipples, one on her left side, and another between her legs, working her into her own orgasmic frenzy.

In a sudden moment, the girl in the pink dress starts moving faster, before her thighs tighten in a single spasm. Some part of Amelia recognises it as an orgasm, the girl stiffening her legs before the convulsions of pleasure overcome her, and she falls back, Amelia’s juice-covered mouth now directly in front of her own.

Amelia feels her own orgasm building, a knot of blissful tension inside her, ready to break any second. She makes her move to kiss the girl in the dress on the lips, but the orgasm takes her before she gets there. She lets out a loud grunt, momentarily drowning out all other noise in the room, and falls backwards, supported by the hands that had done this to her in the first place.

She lies there as pleasure rocks her. She can just see the girl in the pink dress, kneeling in a way suggestive of a ragdoll, lost in the remnants of the pleasure that Amelia had just given her. The other girls, the ones that had been fondling her, are now in Amelia’s view. They are smiling, and Amelia somehow knows that their smile is reflected on her own face. She feels so good right now.

One of them— the one in the shorts— finally gets around to taking off her sandals.

She lies there for some time, naked, legs slightly raised. As her pleasure dies down and her own mind seems to return to her, she becomes aware of something else. A silence has settled over the pool.

At first she thinks maybe the girls have all left, but they are still there. The sexual activity has stopped, however. Most of them are staring in one direction. Amelia gets onto her knees and turns to look where the other girls are looking, lining herself up against the wall next to the girl in the pink dress.

The woman that walks towards her seems unnaturally, impossibly beautiful. She wears a simple black one-piece that seems to hold her body as though it is a living thing, reforming and reshaping to best match her curves no matter how she moves herself. The suit stops at her neck, narrowing across her chest to a wide lycra collar. A single white stripe runs up each side of the outfit, defining the boundary between front and back.

It’s not just what she is wearing that captivates Amelia, however. This woman may just be the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. It’s hard to describe, and maybe some supernatural effect is at work— not out of the question given the mystery already surrounding the last few hours of Amelia’s night. Her hair is a long deep red mass, the kind of colour that is sometimes described as auburn, but more real than any auburn-haired woman Amelia has ever seen. Her face is an unblemished portrait of serenity. Deep green eyes that Amelia immediately wants to get lost in, a pert nose that sits just right, and lips that look naturally like they are red.

Her cheeks and her chin form a shape that is pleasing, not too sharp or soft, and not too long or short. Below that is her neck, which Amelia can’t help but think is the sexiest neck she has ever seen. Her shoulders, partially covered in the black swimsuit, are perfect, as are her slender arms and, Amelia notices, perfect hands.

Her breasts are large, but not grotesquely so. There are other girls here with larger, but none of them stand out quite like this woman’s. The swimsuit flows over them, to her waist, which is defined best by the white stripes at each side. Her hips flare out in a way that suggests she could give birth to quite a few children before she loses her shape. Even the triangle that covers her crotch, carefully positioned so as to avoid giving too much away, but still alluring enough to Amelia’s lusting eyes, is exquisitely proportioned.

And then there are her legs. Amelia decides that she would give her whole life just to wrap herself around this woman’s smooth, lightly tanned, perfectly toned legs. The come out of the swimsuit and form into sculptured thighs, perfect knees and even calves and feet that look better than the entire bodies of Amelia’s last two lovers combined.

Amelia feels like she could have an orgasm just watching this woman walk. There are no imperfections here. She is not overly tall or skinny, yet she has no cellulite or unwanted fat. She knows that this woman may not fit everyone’s ideal, but, somehow, she fits Amelia’s ideal.

When the woman looks directly at her with those beautiful green eyes and smiles, Amelia melts inside. She wants, right now, to only do this, to only kneel here staring into this woman’s eyes. Forever.

The woman kneels down in front of the quivering Amelia, and puts a soft finger under her chin. Amelia sucks air in sharply, as a twinge of pleasure radiates through her.

“Hello,” the woman says. The first words Amelia has heard since leaving the club.

Amelia herself is in a place beyond words now. “Uhn… huh…” is all she can manage before the woman’s smile seems to melt her mind again.

“Welcome to my palace,” she says.

Then she kisses Amelia, and it is enough to push Amelia far into the twin realms of bliss and pleasure. An orgasm pulses through her, she wants to break the kiss so she can moan or cry out or just collapse and let it rock her into unending pleasure.

The woman’s firm grip stops her. Amelia maintains the kiss for what seems like an aeon. When the woman does finally break away, it barely registers with Amelia. She lets out short vocalised panting noises as she continues to come.

“You’ll be happy here. I can give you anything you desire.” She smiles at Amelia again, but Amelia’s eyes are distant, dreamy. Her mouth, too, settles from the contorted o-shape into a more benign smile. The woman stands up. Amelia follows her with her eyes, but otherwise doesn’t move. “What do you want most?”

A sudden, sharp burst of coherence appears in Amelia’s passion-crazed mind.

“You,” she says simply, plaintively.

“What else?”

An image forms, of Jessica kneeling in front of her, Amelia standing beside this woman, the look in Jessica’s eyes one of wanton lust and desire. Not unlike the look on her face right now.

“J— Jessica.”

The woman smiles. She takes something offered by another woman standing beside her, bobbed blonde hair and wearing a navy blue one-piece.

“Stand up, put this on,” the woman says, something in her tone making it sound like the best idea Amelia’s ever had.

She stands suddenly, quickly. Somewhat surprising given how she feels right now. She has to squeeze her thighs together to stop herself from falling over again.

“Here,” the woman says, holding out the garment she’d taken from the bobbed blonde navy blue girl. It’s a green lycra dress, similar in style, but not quite identical to the pink dress worn by the girl now masturbating beside her.

Amelia raises her arms as the woman bunches the dress up and puts them through their openings, her head comes next, giving Amelia a brief, worrying moment where she isn’t staring into those green eyes. Then it’s through, and the dress is being pulled down her body, over her breasts and stomach, before being allowed to fall just below her bum, enough to hide it when she stands, but not otherwise.

The woman runs her hand down Amelia’s face, stopping briefly at her mouth— causing Amelia to attempt to lick her finger— before moving down her neck, between her breasts, across her stomach and to the hem of the dress.. She slips her hand under the dres and runs her finger down Amelia’s wet, pulsing slit.

She pulls away, licking Amelia’s juices off the finger. “Mmm,” she says, “You’re quite nice.”

Amelia doesn’t really hear her. From the moment the dress slipped into place, an overwhelming bliss had settled on her mind, drowning out the few coherent thoughts and memories that still remained within her. She is being subsumed, a part of her realises before it sinks into the bliss, and she would soon be just another of the girls here.

Everything in her world seems to simplify. She doesn’t need her complicated thoughts or feelings anymore. She doesn’t need to remember her past, her future, even her own name slowly fades from her rapidly shrinking consciousness.

All that remains is the single desire to stare endlessly at this impossibly beautiful woman’s body, and to wear this exquisite dress that the woman has gifted her.

These realisations are followed by an orgasm that shatters any remaining shreds of her mind. When she recovers from it, some minutes later, the woman is gone, and the girl in the green lycra dress is sitting against the wall, masturbating slowly, a blissful, dreamy smile across her face.

It’s late afternoon, and Jessica is walking home from the railway station, her shoulder bag, full of laptop and uni books at her side. Today is a good day, she thinks, because she finally got a place of her own.

She rounds the corner, past the abandoned swimming pool, when movement in its window catches her eye. The sun is just on the verge of setting now, nd it reflects in the glass, making it hard to make out what the movement might have been.

When Jessica turns away, it happens again. She looks again into the windows, focusing a little harder this time. She sees the silhouettes of girls.

“What…” she says aloud. She crosses the narrow, dead garden between the footpath and the building.

Standing there behind the glass, smiling blissfully is a girl in a green lycra dress. Jessica notices other girls as well, all in some form of swimwear or another.

As the girl in the green lycra dress slowly raises the hem to reveal her smooth, shaved crotch, Jessica finally realises who it is.

“Amelia?” Jessica says, before the desire to go in there and spend the rest of her life licking the girl’s pussy overwhelms her.