The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The package was waiting for me on the landing leading up to my apartment. The landlady always left the mail there. It was a wholly unremarkable package, with no return address, postmarked from Detroit. I therefore immediately assumed it was from my fiancee, the only soul I knew in that wretched city. Grabbing the package, I made my way up the stairs, unlocked the door, and entered my apartment.

It was a small one-bedroom that I rented for cheap. I did not require a lot of space. I worked at a nearby laboratory until late every night, and when I was not there, I made the four-hour drive that separated me from Detroit and from Kyra. She was a graduate student there, and we had decided, a year earlier, that being apart for a short while was an acceptable price to pay for me to gain some work experience, and for her to continue her doctoral studies. The separation was difficult, but I made the commute to go see Kyra twice a month, spending up to five days with her at a time. Thank God for flexible work hours!

Curious, I set about to open the package, to find a videotape. No marking, no accompanying letter. Strange. Not sure what to make of it, I put the tape in the VCR. After a few seconds of snow, an image appeared, in black and white, seemingly from one of those surveillance cameras you find in stores. However, the image it showed was of the inside of a house or apartment that looked vaguely familiar. I realized after a while that it was a shot from my fiancee’s apartment.

Just then I heard voices on the tape, Kyra, and some man whose voice I did not recognize.

“... and you believe you can help me with this?” said Kyra.

“Of course, miss. This is what we do best,” said the unknown man. “Let me show you what your options are.”

They both entered the frame. Kyra, short and thin with long brown hair, straight as they have always been, dressed as she usually was around the home, sweatpants and a tee-shirt, concealing curves I knew were there. The man was older, perhaps in his forties, dressed professionally, a good head taller than my fiancee. He carried a folder full of papers that he proceeded to spread on the dining room table, as Kyra sat down.

“As you can see, miss, we have several color options. This one, for instance, is available in yellow, which I believe will nicely match your kitchen.”

“Features?”

“Features include all those we discussed on the phone: fully automatic cycle, silent mode, spill safety...”

Dishwashers. Kyra had been bugging me to get one, claiming that she did not have time to wash dishes, and that besides, it was safer and more hygienic than hand-washing dishes. She must have gotten tired of discussing it, and decided to go ahead with the purchase.

“And, of course, we have the feature common to every WashAll model, by far our most popular in most households,” said the salesman.

“Which is?” said Kyra.

“Conditioning level alpha” said the salesman.

That was an odd thing to say. But Kyra’s reaction to it was equally odd. She stiffened, and her face went blank. The salesman, who had been leaning on the table pointing at various dishwashers advertisement sheets, straightened, smiling, and took a step towards Kyra.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, pulled them down to his ankles, and stepped out of them. He was wearing boxer shorts, white with a light blue design. He approached Kyra, his cock tenting the front of his shorts.

Kyra turned her head towards him, her expression clearing a little, and the salesman ran his right hand through her hair.

“Come on, baby, be a good girl,” he said.

She lifted her hand to his crotch, and slowly started rubbing his member through his shorts. The salesman tossed his head back, sighing.

“Mmmm... that’s it, baby. Go ahead, take it out.”

Kyra pushed down his boxer shorts, letting his now rock-hard cock out, pointing at her face. She slowly, almost reverently brought up her hands, and slowly, teasingly, started caressing it. She wrapped one hand around the head, and slowly started pumping her fist, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The salesman got harder, his cock nearly poking Kyra in the forehead, as she had been inching closer and closer.

It was not until she slowly approached her mouth, slowly spread her lips, and put the salesman’s cock in her mouth that I realized I had been holding my breath. I had no idea what was going on, on so many levels. I had always thought my fiancee was faithful, never giving me any inkling that she was straying or had any desire to stray. Then again, what she was doing did not at all look like she was on a kick to be unfaithful. She seemed... I could not quite describe it. Not herself. Besides, I knew for a fact that she hated giving blowjobs. Our sex life was anything but adventurous, much to my chagrin and despite my many attempts, and giving head was simply not something she did happily. Yet, there she was, sucking on some strange man’s cock, sitting at her own dining room table.

“Oh yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it. Suck it,” said the man, caressing Kyra’s face as she slowly sucked on his cockhead. She was slow, careful, barely bringing his cock out of her lips, only to engulf it a few inches. Her sitting position must not have been ideal for the act.

The salesman seemed to realize it as well. He suddenly pulled her head off his cock, stepped back, and pointed at the ground in front of him.

Kyra got out of her chair, and obediently kneeled in front of the salesman who once more put his right hand through her hair and guided her head to his cock. The cockhead touched her lips, which she pursed to let it in. Sucking him in, sucking him out.

After a few minutes of this, the salesman grew agitated. His hips were moving somewhat spasmodically, and his hand was jerking on Kyra’s head. Finally, he groaned, let out a lout “Oh God!", grabbed Kyra’s head with both hands, and violently pulled her head towards him, jamming his cock all the way in her throat. I could hear my fiancee first gag and then choke as the salesman slowly pulled his cock out before slamming it all the way in again. Despite the gagging, Kyra was busily deepthroating the man, who kept pulling her head with his hands, grabbing fistfuls of her hair.

I was floored. Up until then, I had watched the proceedings in a stunned silence, not quite knowing what was going on. This, however, completely threw me. As I said, Kyra had repeatedly made clear that she disliked oral sex, and on the few occasions when she deigned indulge me, she would snap at me if I ever so much as touched her hair during the act. To see her on her knees, deepthroating a stranger, and letting him completely control the blowjob was beyond my ability to comprehend.

Things were progressing on the screen. Amidst groans and impressive slamming of cock in throat, with Kyra barely being able to keep up with the rhythm, long strands of spittle running down from her mouth onto her shirt, the salesman was close to coming.

“Fuck, you’re good! Hold on, baby, I’m close... close... Oh God! Here it comes! Han!”

With a deep groan and a fart, he jammed his cock deeper down Kyra’s throat than I thought possible. Her eyes bulging, her nose squashed against his gut, she could do nothing but swallow his cum.

After he finished coming, the salesman took his cock out of Kyra’s throat, letting her breathe, gasping and half-choking, globs of spittle and cum leaking into her shirt. The salesman wiped his cock in Kyra’s hair, while she laid there, unmoving, still heaving from her effort.

“There, that’s a good little cocksucker. You have a wonderful mouth, you know that, baby?” he said, once again running his hand on the side of her head.

Kyra lifted her eyes towards him, seemingly seeing him for the first time. “Thank you, sir,” she said.

The salesman smiles, caressing her face, spreading around some of the cum that was leaking down from her hair. He then turned his head up to look directly at the camera that he must have known was there, and gave an exaggerated wink and a grin. I felt it was for my benefit.

At that point, the image on the screen froze, with my fiancee, cum running down her chin, on her knees before a strange man, looking up at him. A voice came on, strangely disembodied, a deep baritone with a touch of the melodramatic to it.

“I hope you will remain calm, Mr Steadman,” said the voice. “At least, until you have a chance to hear what I have to say. As you can see, we have in our possession a tape of your fiancee that I am certain several people would be quite interested in getting their hands on. Other people, and here I am mostly thinking about family, would perhaps be less interested. I am venturing a guess, you understand. I trust you have enough wit to understand that just as we managed to get this tape in the first place, we can get more. May I say that your fiancee is quite the little spitfire, Mr. Steadman.

“Now, here is the game, Mr. Steadman. You will not try anything foolish, you will not get in our way, you will not cause any trouble. We have no ardent desire to hurt anybody, my associates and I, but we will do so if we need to.

“All we want is to have some fun with your fiancee. Until we tire of her. At which point we will move on. In exchange for your... cooperation, we will let you partake in our good fun. We have extensively researched you and your fiancee, and if you will forgive the impertinence, things do not seem very rosy on the sexual front.”

I frowned. Inasmuch as I hated to admit it, our sex life, Kyra and I, had become very quiet in the last few years. Too quiet. It had started out nicely enough, like most relationship. But I supposed habit set in, and while I was ready to experiment and try out new things, she seemed much more resistant to the idea. Which was a shame, really, because she had a hot little body, built for perversions, as I liked to tease her.

“Looking at the previous scene,” continued the voice, “you will undoubtedly have realized that we did something to your fiancee. It would be out of place for me to go into details right now, but suffices to say that we have thoroughly conditioned her. She responds to a few commands that we have programmed. You have witnessed one such command. Feel free to try it out yourself, at your convenience. There will be others, as you will discover in the future.

“Eventually, we will tire of her, and we will disappear from your life. We may or may not remove the commands at that point. Much depends on you, Mr. Steadman. Until then, your fiancee is ours. We will use her for our own satisfaction, and we will share her with friends. We will expect you to go with it all.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Steadman.”

The image on the screen unfroze, to be replaced by typical blank tape snow. I was in a daze. I stopped the tape, and stared at the blank screen. I could not think. Which was just as well. Had I been able to think, I might have been tempted to call the police. As it was, I sealed my own fate that day: I rewound the tape to a particular spot.

“Conditioning level alpha” said the salesman on the tape.

I was a nervous wreck when I unlocked the door of Kyra’s apartment. All was quiet in the hallway, not a sound coming from inside. This was my first weekend in Detroit since receiving the tape. I had talked with Kyra since then, and nothing seemed amiss. My fiancee was her usual self, and if not for the fact that there was a tape next to my television set that immortalized her on her knees blowing some bloke, I would have probably been tempted to chuck it all down to some particularly disturbing dream. This would not have been the first time one of my fantasies got out of hand.

All through the drive over, I had debated what I would do. I still had not reached a satisfying conclusion.

I was never given an opportunity to answer the question. Just as I put my travel bag down after entering the apartment, I heard a shuffling of feet, and I had barely enough time to turn towards the living room before Kyra burst out of nowhere and jumped in my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. I mechanically registered her bare legs, and her white tee-shirt and light blue panties, before her lips closed over mine in a scorching kiss.

“Hi honey! I missed you!” said Kyra, after she broke the kiss, still in my arms.

“One day, you’ll give me a heart attack, you know that?”

“You are my strong man,” she said, sliding down to the ground.

“You must be starved. Did you get something on the road?” she asked. Before I could answer, she turned around, heading to the kitchen. I was given a wonderful opportunity to stare at her ass, barely contained in panties that looked a bit too small for her.

“No, nothing,” I said. “And I can think of a thing or two that I would like to sink my teeth into right now.”

Kyra looked up over her shoulder.

“Really?” She turned around, a twinkle in her eye, came back towards me, stretched to the tip of her toes, and gave me a soft kiss on the lips, long, with just a hint of her tongue flirting with my own.

“Then perhaps we can find a way to satisfy you,” she said. She took my hand and pulled me to the bedroom, and onto the bed.

Much kissing, stripping, and rubbing later, after she had made her way under me, spread her legs and let me insert my cock in her, and we both had come after a slow, languorous fuck, we snuggled in bed, in the light of the dying afternoon. Kyra was sleeping. I was still awake, thinking.

Few things made me as happy as making love to Kyra. She was incredibly sexy, and I could spend hours licking her soft skin, kissing her thighs, squeezing her breasts. But lately, it was leaving me strangely unsatisfied. I had figured out why maybe six months ago. Kyra and I were sexually active, but mainly at her behest. And the sad truth was that her behest did not manifest very often. Of course, days like today, our first reunion after an absence, were different. But I was pretty sure that our next romp would be in a month, my next visit, after leaving and coming back again.

All of which I could live with happily if Kyra were more daring. But no, not only was sex infrequent, it was also strictly missionary stile, with a rare cowgirl thrown in for variety. She liked when I ate her out, but she rarely returned the favor. I loved her dearly, and I know she loved me, but we were stuck in an unpleasant sexual status quo.

A status quo that the people who sent me the tape seemed intent to resolve for me. Try as I might, I could not get out of my mind the image of Kyra on her knees sucking on a cock. I pushed the thought away, as I had done several times in the last two weeks. The only way I could deal with the situation was to try to block the whole thing out of my mind.

Three days later, Kyra and I were cuddling on the couch, watching some inane evening show on television. The last three days had been pleasant, and we had settled into the routine that followed days of effervescence.

“I got the munchies,” said Kyra, turning to me. “You want anything?”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Be right back.”

She stood and made her way to the kitchen. Once again, I could not keep from staring at her ass as she walked away. It was more covered this time. She was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, under a somewhat long tee-shirt. She was barefoot. A thought sneaked its way into my consciousness. Those were the same sweatpants that she was wearing on the tape. I blocked the thought, but not fast enough: in my mind’s eye Kyra was on her knees, gagging on a large cock. I got hard instantly. Shaking my head, I tried to concentrate on some married man’s antics on television.

Kyra came back, and sat next to me on the couch. Much to my dismay, she starting slowly licking a popsicle. No way, I thought.

“What?” said Kyra. I must have been staring. “Told you, I got the munchies. And it’s hot.”

Yes, it was.

“Is it bothering you?", she asked.

“No, no, sorry... I must be tired. Don’t mind me.”

We turned our attention back to the show. Or at least she did. Personally, I was busy watching Kyra from the corner of my eye working on that lucky popsicle. She was alternatively licking it slowly top to bottom, and putting the tip in her mouth and sucking on it softly. My hard-on became harder still. It did not take much imagination to picture her sucking like that on a cock. Okay, I did not need imagination. The tape was never very far from my mind. And here, now, with my fiancee cuddled next to me on the couch and oblivious to my struggle, slowly sucking on a frozen treat, the taped ceased to be a thought to be resisted and became an temptation to be embraced.

In other words, I gave in.

“Sweetie, what do you know about conditioning level alpha?” I asked, bracing myself for the response.

None came. Kyra slowly stopped sucking on her popsicle, her eyes losing their focus somewhat. A blink, two. I did not dare move. After what felt like an eternity, I touched her cheek. No reaction.

“Sweetie?” I asked.

No reaction. I hesitated still. This felt like a dream. What the hell, I thought. I stood, and took off my pants and underwear. I felt way too self-conscious to remove my shirt. I sat back down next to Kyra, who had not stirred. My cock was sticking straight up, harder than it ever was.

“Sweetie, would you mind helping me out a little?” I said, feeling foolish, not quite sure what in fact I should be saying. It is admittedly difficult to be suave when half naked and trying to ask one’s fiancee for a blowjob?

Kyra’s face cleared a little. After turning her head towards me, she leaned over to put a hand around my cock. I jumped. Her fingers felt burning hot. I was terribly sensitive.

This made the sensations when Kyra put the head of my cock in her mouth that much more intolerable. The feeling was fantastic. I had always liked the feeling of her pussy, soft, and warm, like velvet around my cock. Her mouth was even warmer, and her tongue... God, her tongue! She softly sucked on my cock, taking a little bit at a time in her mouth. After a few minutes, I could not help shifting my hips slightly, wanting to get more into her mouth. Kyra understood, let go of my cock, and straightened up. I was about to say something, “Hey, get back here” being my first candidate, when she kneeled next to me on the couch, ass sticking up in the air, and literally plunged onto my cock. I held my breath. Jacking me off with her right hand, she bobbed her head up and down, taking me deeper and deeper, until I felt my cock hit the back of her throat. That was it for me.

“Oh God! Sweetie, this feels wonderful!” Through either reflex or bad timing, my cock slipped out of her mouth just when I came, and I spurted a load then two then three right on her face. The first hit her eye, the second dribbled around her nose, and the last landed just above her upper lip. Kyra swished her tongue about, licking up the cum, then proceeded to thoroughly lick my cock clean.

After, when I was recovering, Kyra cuddled back against me on the couch, her attention focussed once again on the television. I stared as a drop of my cum made its way dow the side of her mouth, gone strangely unnoticed.

They say it is difficult to put a genie back in a bottle. I am ashamed to admit I did not even try. In fact, I wholeheartedly embraced that other proverb, there is no use crying over spilled milk. So while a small part of me felt guilty about my behavior, the largest part, and not the smartest, could not wait to feel her mouth again.

Kyra herself seemed completely oblivious to the whole thing. Right after the couch incident, we continued watching television, then chatted for a bit. She never noticed the cum that was caking her face, only washing her face before bed, as was her habit anyways.

I gave in to my urges once more the next day. Actually, this makes it sound like I put up a fight. I did not. It was late, and Kyra was getting ready for bed. She was standing in front of the dresser mirror in the bedroom, examining her face, and she was stretched up, standing on her toes. She was wearing a short diaphanous nightie, my favorite for several obvious reasons. It was translucent, but hid enough to be teasingly arousing. And it was short. It barely reached the top of her thighs, showcasing her long and perfectly formed legs.

And now, stretched as Kyra was, the nightie had ridden up her thighs and revealed a pair of perfectly formed ass cheeks, barely covered by a pair of tight panties. I quietly made my way behind her, slid my arms around her midriff, and cupped her breasts, while pushing my quickly hardening cock against her ass.

Too forward, I knew. Kyra jumped, and tried to turn around.

“Honey!? What are you doing?”

I let her turn around, feeling her body rub against mine, trapped as she was between me and the dresser. I sought her mouth. She kissed me quickly, dismissively, and moved her head away as I persisted in my attention.

“Honey... please, stop. I am really tired tonight...", she said.

Tired. Worried about something. Not in the mood. It was getting old.

“Kyra, conditioning level alpha.”

She went blank. I pulled her lips to mine. She responded, not passionately, but responded nonetheless. I guessed that the conditioning trigger only controlled her blowjob abilities. I cut the kiss short, looked at her deep in the eyes, and put a hand on her shoulder. She understood immediately, and sank to her knees in front of me, while I stepped back to give her some room.

She was beautiful, kneeling in front of me, legs slightly spread, head back staring at my cock, long hair brought back in a simple ponytail. While I admired her, she pulled my shorts down, and gave a tentative lick to the tip of my cock, which shivered from the touch. A few more licks, then she used a finger to lift my cock against my abdomen and proceeded to lick the length of it with the flat of her tongue, in long broad strokes. I was going crazy; I felt like rubbing myself against her skin, dry humping her face.

Just when I thought I could not take it much longer, she let go of my cock, puckered up, and allowed my cock to part her lips as she pulled me in deep in one agonizingly slow motion. She kept me in her mouth for two beats before pulling me back out, squeezing her lips together and sucking the whole way out. She pulled my cock out completely, then dove in again. And again. And again. Whomever had taught her to suck cock had done an amazing job. Her tongue was doing wonderful things.

Despite my best attempt at remaining motionless and just enjoying Kyra’s talented lips, I quickly found myself pushing my hips forward, seeking to go in deeper, matching the bobbing of Kyra’s head with thrusts of my own. I had always thought of myself as a considerate lover, but now something else took over. I was thrusting harder and harder. Kyra did not make a sound, but her blowjob got sloppier. Just like on the video, saliva was roping down from her chin, falling and coating the top of her nightie, that was now almost transparent. She slobbered on my cock like a demure slut.

Slut! The word, Kyra on her knees in front of me, Kyra on her knees mouth-fucking a stranger on the tape, the fact and sheer existence of that tape, made me snap. I lifted my hands, which until then had been resting safely by my side, and grabbed a fistful of hair in each. I thrust in her mouth harder than before, practically ramming into her, using her hair to hold her in place. Kyra gagged as my cock bottomed out at the back of her throat, but the sound just added to my frenzy. I pulled out, and rammed back in, and again, and again. Still gagging, Kyra seemed to shuffle in place, and on my next thrust, my cock sank deep in her throat, encountering little resistance, snuggled in warmth like never before. Her forehead hit my abs, her lips the root of my cock. I was in her throat, deep.

I pulled out, slowly, and Kyra took a lungful of air, thick strands of saliva connecting her lips to my cockhead. Then she took me in all the way down once more. If I had thought I was frenzied before, then I did not know what this was. I did not know what to do with myself, cry, laugh, or fuck her. I rammed her throat again and again, my hands still on her head. Each thrust kept pushing her head back a little bit, and eventually the back of her head banged on the dresser. A thrust, a sloppy gagging sound, a bang on the dresser. I could not deal with it much.

Another thrust, harder this time, another gagging sound, a bang on the dresser. A thrust, a gagging sound, a bang on the dresser. My hands got tighter on Kyra’s hair, I pulled hard, and thrust my cock deep in her throat, holding it there, Kyra’s lips in my pubic hair at the root of my cock, her throat milking me, and I finally let go, coming deep in her throat, choking her. My hands were tightening convulsively in her hair, as I spurted load after load directly in her throat. I was not letting her breathe, forcing her to swallow, which massaged my cock in indescribable ways. Eventually, I was done, and I realized that I was still clenching her hair, holding her head against my belly. I let her go, and Kyra pulled back, breathing hard. She looked a mess, with her chin shiny with saliva, strings of cum stretching down to her chest.

I fumbled back, feeling weak. Resting on the bed, I looked at Kyra. On her knees in front of the dresser, short nightie sitting high on her thighs, left transparent around her breasts because of the spittle, showing red nipples that just asked to be sucked on, she looked so violently fuckable I was shaking. I caught myself hoping that further tapes would follow.

As another saying goes, be careful what you wish for.