The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Disclaimer: This is is a work of erotic fiction written for the entertainment of adults. All characters are fictional and adult. This story is authorized for posting at www.mcstories.com and may be downloaded or printed for individual consumption. Publication on any other site or in any other form without the author’s consent is strictly prohibited and will result in some seriously shitty karma. The author can be reached at .

Author’s Note: This story takes place at D-Man’s Comic Emporium, the setting of the previous story Adolescent Fantasies. The stories are independent, however, and reading one is not necessary to understand the other. The events in this story take place a few weeks prior to the events in A.F. This story is in response to those readers who wrote me asking to know more about the process by which Daniel trains his playmates. Thanks for the feedback!

GUILTY PLEASURES

by AMOWAT

Wanda Williams breathed a sigh of relief as she checked her watch. 9:56 am. She had made it on time. Punctuality was important. It would be so rude to be late when Daniel had been so kind to meet her 2 hours before the comic shop even opened.

She checked herself in the mirror. Not that she was flirting with Daniel—the young man was 12 years her junior after all—but she did like to look nice and her soft red hair had a way of working its way out of its scrunchy. She tucked back a few errant locks, smiled winsomely at her reflection, then left her car and entered D-Man’s Comic Emporium.

Wanda had to admit she was starting to enjoy her Sunday morning visit to the comic shop. She wasn’t here for her own pleasure, of course. It was maternal duty that brought her here each Sunday to pre-approve her son’s reading material. But she had to admit she took a guilty pleasure from reading the four-color adventures every Sunday. They were a lot like soap operas, really, if you looked past the superpowers and spandex.

Wanda chuckled at the irony of her newfound enjoyment. Her attitude this morning was a far cry from what it had been the first time she had come here four months ago. She had been seriously pissy, determined to have the place shut down. All that over a nipple. Wanda smiled and shook her head. All the stress of the divorce had made her a little nuts.

Of course, she did have to protect Cameron from inappropriate material especially if he was to have any hope of not growing up to be a philandering asshole like his father. He was only 14, after all. He was hardly at a stage in his life where he needed to be seeing breasts or some of the other naughty things in some of the comics. She was within her rights to be upset. But it had been foolish to blame Daniel. He had ended up being quite responsible about the whole thing. He had apologized profusely for selling her son the offensive comic and she had calmed down.

He had a very calming voice, really. That was her first sign that he was trustworthy. He explained to her that, had he realized the comic in question contained offensive material, he never would have sold it to a minor. The problem was that the publishers had abandoned the Comics Code Authority seal so there was no uniform mark of what was and wasn’t suitable for minors. He tried, of course, to screen them himself but there were so many titles that sometimes one or two slipped through the cracks.

At some point in the conversation—she wasn’t sure when—Wanda had an epiphany. It wasn’t this nice businessman’s responsibility to screen her son’s entertainment—it was hers.

Once she realized this, the solution was obvious. She didn’t quite remember if she had thought of it first or Daniel, but they both agreed that the ideal solution was for Wanda to review the content of any comics Cameron might buy before Daniel sold them to him. Daniel had even been so kind as to let her come by Sunday mornings after church before the shop opened so they wouldn’t be disturbed. He really was quite reasonable about the whole situation and Wanda had gained a new respect for the young man. Owning his own business before the age at 24 was quite impressive, really. He was a great role model for her young son.

“Hello Wanda,” grinned Daniel once he had opened the door. His dark eyes were bright and mischievous as always. She had mistaken his grins for mockery at first but now she realized it was just his cheerful nature. He was genuinely happy to see her and always glad to help.

“Hello Daniel,” she said as she stepped inside and Daniel locked the door behind her. “I wanted to thank you again for letting me do this before you open. It’s so nice of you to give me your full attention.”

“I appreciate the help, really,” he said. “You’re doing me a favor. I’ve got such a large stock and I don’t have enough confidence in my few employees to screen everything for suitability. If I can tell other parents that I only sell their children comics pre-approved by an upstanding member of the community like yourself, they’ll feel more comfortable letting their kids visit my shop and I’ll make a better profit! It’s definitely a win-win situation!”

“Well, it’s refreshing to see that kind of attitude,” she said, eyes sparkling at the young man. His scruffiness, while slovenly at first glance, had become somewhat endearing. She was really starting to enjoy his company, perhaps more so than was really proper—but there was no harm in it.

She followed him to the lounge area of the spacious comics shop filled with tables, couches, and chairs where customers could read or groups could engage in role playing games. Just like every Sunday, there were two large stacks of comic books on the glass coffee table, both new and used. One stack was for her, the other for Daniel.

They sat side by side on the over stuffed couch, far enough apart that decorum was maintained but close enough that they could show each other questionable material and discuss it. Wanda took the latest issue of the Batgirl from the top of her stack and began reading. Daniel had learned which comics she secretly enjoyed and always put one of them on the top of her stack. He was very thoughtful.

Wanda could feel the young man occasionally glancing at her as they read and she wondered briefly if it was appropriate. Still, she did have very nice legs and she took a guilty pleasure from the young man admiring them. She uncrossed and recrossed them. There was no harm in it, really.

She finished the next comic more quickly, finding nothing objectionable in either and went on to the third. The cover of this one was odd. It was made by a small independent publisher with a high gloss paper but there was no clear image of superheroes or villains. Instead, there was a garish display of color, shades of purple and black and yellow in bold swooshes and dizzying swirls. Wanda couldn’t help staring at it, although her eyes could find no purchase anywhere. She had seen something like it before but she couldn’t quite remember.

“I...can’t ...see it,” she said.

The calming voice of Daniel came to her rescue.

“Just relax, Wanda. It’s a special 3-dimensional cover. You just have to relax, let your mind drift...just relax, Wanda. Relax and you will see it. It will all be clear very soon. Your eyes unfocus, your mind opens, your imagination awakes and you will paint your own story. All your secret, naughty dreams, all your guilty pleasures: They write the story. You go to a place where nothing is real; there is only the fantasy, only the adventure...”

Wanda sighed. She could see it now with her unfocused eyes. A vision of herself: wild, beautiful, sensual. A vision of herself clad in purple with black and gold. Defiant, unruly, playing by her own rules. She was never afraid to use sex and violence to achieve her goals. She was The Vigilante Vixen!

“Tell me your story,” Daniel prompted.

“My name is Wanda Williams,” she said, her voice low and sultry and cynical. “I once believed in law. I once believed in order. I once believed in righteousness. I was so naive.”

“I was the first woman ever to be elected mayor of the city. I was going to clean the streets of drugs and crime, not just making token arrests of small time thugs but also going after the organization, those wealthy men working behind closed doors to profit off the degradation of the city. I had discovered that virtually all the money from criminal activity in the city was flowing into the portfolios of the heads of 5 large corporations and that the CEOs of these companies formed a secret order called The PALM.

Unfortunately, I didn’t discover how deep their influence in city government was until it was too late. They had scrutinized my investigation from the beginning. When I was on the verge of finding the evidence I needed to blow the lid off the whole mess, the PALM decided to take me out.

They drugged me out of my mind—turns out my personal assistant was in their pocket from the beginning—and then they administered this experimental aphrodisiac. For 8 hours I was reduced to a raving sex maniac. With cameras rolling, they presented me with prostitutes, both male and female, lobbyists I had worked with, even farm animals and Republicans. I let them all fuck me, begged them to, and then screamed out for more.

The press was merciless. Everyone abandoned me, including my husband. The lobbyists, all of them on the PALMs payroll, testified before the city council that I had abused my office for them in exchange for sexual favors and drugs. I was impeached and disgraced. Everyone expected me to go curl up in a corner and die of shame.

But I didn’t.

I took to the streets. The very wave of crime and decadence I had sought to purge from my city became my sanctuary, my sanatorium, my womb. The whores and junkies welcomed me into their society. If any of them recognized me from my previous glory, they were respectful enough not to mention it. There is no more polite society than that shared by those with nothing left to loose.

But despite the welcome of the ravel of the street, I did not become one of them. I did not give in to despair. I did no loose that fire in my belly. I stoked it and fed it with my all-consuming dream—a dream of vengeance!

The universe loves irony. In bringing about my downfall, the PALM had given me the tools of my revenge. Perhaps they didn’t foresee the side effects. Perhaps they didn’t care, thinking they had dropped me so low that I would be forever impotent. But if they thought that I was a bitch to deal with when I was mayor, it was only because they had no idea what sort of bitch was going to rise from my ashes.

They had taken everything, but they took too much. Along with my reputation, they had taken my sense of shame, my mores, my inhibitions. Really, it was this more than anything the drugs gave me that is the root of my power. There is no depth to which I wont sink in my quest for vengeance.

Beyond this, the drugs physically changed me. The randiness subsided enough that I could think clearly, but it never truly stopped. It tends to build up if I go to long without a good tumble and I go a little crazy—not that I let it build up very often. I don’t have to. Not only am I always horny, I have an almost supernatural seductiveness. No one, man or woman, can resist my come-ons for long. Once they give into my seduction, they seem to give their will to me. After a good fuck, my victim can’t help but tell me anything I want to know, do anything I tell them to do. It doesn’t last, but I’ve learned to capitalize on my afterglow influence.

The final power the drugs gave me might have been intentional. I had an absolute perfect memory of what they did to me, one that replayed in my head over and over in my darkest hour. But as I recovered, I found I could stretch my memory back further. With a little practice, I could recall every document I ever read about the PALM.

Armed with these abilities, I began my war against the PALM. Combining my photographic memory and my ability to recruit temporary assistants, I soon found ways to siphon off cash and equipment from the supply lines that fed the organization. With these resources, I financed my underground lair. Once I had that, I was ready to make my presence known.

I needed a new identity. Mayor Williams was weak. She was naive. And now she was dead. The new Wanda was strong, seductive, and deadly.

I decided to take on the role of a costumed vigilante. I made my self a cloak of black and dark purple to help me blend in with the shadows. Beneath the cloak, I chose an outfit that would best capitalize on my seductive powers: Knee-high dark purple boots with crotch-crushing steel toes and spiked heels, a purple and gold bustier to display my supernaturally seductive flesh to my victims and a G-string, easily removed, with a gold-embroidered head of a hungry she-fox guarding my hungry, will-consuming cunt! To conceal my identity, I made a purple vixen-eared cowl, announcing to my prey just what kind of horny, vicious beast hunted them. The PALM had used my sexuality as a weapon against me. Now that weapon was in my hands and I was ready to turn it against them. I am the Vigilante Vixen!”

Wanda fell silent, save for her hard, impassioned breathing as she felt the raw power that her fantasy gave her.

“Good, Wanda, goood,” came Daniels guiding voice. “In the weeks that we’ve been meeting, The Vigilante Vixen has sprung from your subconscious desires. Your imagination has given her form and created this incredible fantasy. Now, at last Wanda, you are ready to live the fantasy.”

From under the sofa, Daniel retrieved a large flat box. He opened it.

“Here is your costume, Wanda. Put it on and live your fantasy. Put it on and become The Vigilante Vixen.”

There it was: The deep purple cloak, the fox-eared cowl, the boots, the gloves, the gold-trimmed bustier, the G-string with the golden head of a vixen at the crotch.

It was time. Time to leave behind the weakness that was Wanda. Time to discard the rules that caged her.

“Now remember, Wanda, when you hear me say Narration you must listen carefully. The narrator will tell you where you are and what you need to do. Only by listening to the narrator can you live your fantasy. You want to live your fantasy, don’t you Wanda?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Live my fantasy.”

“Good, Wanda, good. When I count to three, your fantasy will begin. One. Two. Three. Narration: Wanda is alone in the Vixen’s Lair. She has received information that the Yum Yum Candy Company warehouse is a front for The PALM’s designer drug operation. She has decided to investigate in the guise of her alter ego, The Vigilante Vixen. End Narration.”

As the narrator fell silent, the comic shop faded. Wanda was alone. Alone in her secret lair. And here was her costume. Here was her secret identity, her tools of power and vengeance.

She stood and began to undress with determination and the growing excitement that she always felt when taking on her secret identity. She stripped away her mundane wardrobe, dropping it to the floor of The Vixen’s Lair. When she discarded her bra, her nipples rose in the cool air of her underground base. The strange subterranean echoes sounded a bit like the appreciative exclamation of a horny young man, but she knew she was alone in her lair.

Naked, she went to her costume. First she took the vixen-head G-string and covered her red-thatched snatch, slipping the string between her naked buttocks. It felt so sexy!

“Soon, my hungry darling, soon,” she whispered to her pussy, giving it an indulgent stroke through the thin fabric. The boots were next, the soft leather encasing her legs, making her feel powerful, the high heels enabling her to tower over her enemies.

The bustier pushed her sizable bosom up and out, displaying it to full effect. The drugs that had transformed her were making her so horny! How long had it been?

“If I don’t get me a nice hard fucking soon, I’m gonna loose it,” she muttered to herself, then smirked. “But it won’t be long now. No one says no to The Vixen.” Again, she patted the golden head of the she-fox that adorned her snatch. She put about her shoulders the deep purple cloak that would allow her to go unseen among the dark places in the city, pulled on her purple gauntlets and finally, she put on the purple fox-eared cowl. She was The Vigilante Vixen.

“Narration,” said a voice outside of time and space. The Vigilante Vixen listened attentively.

“The Vigilante Vixen leaves her lair and the dark night embraces her. She makes her way unseen to the Yum Yum Candy Company warehouse down by the waterfront. She finds it watched by a lone security guard. The Vixen smiles. Using her powers she can easily conquer the guard and enlist him in her search for information on The PALM’s operation. End Narration.”

Wanda stalked the security guard through the shadow-strewn warehouse, hidden inside her cloak. He was a bearded young man, somewhat portly, and quite unsuspecting that he was The Vixen’s prey.

He was behind some boxes now, out of sight of the security cameras, and Wanda saw the perfect moment to strike. She leapt out in front of him, tossing back her cloak to reveal her supernaturally seductive skin. She confronted the defenseless armed man with her smoldering gaze and her creamy, freckled breasts.

“Hey, you! You’re not supposed to be here!” the guard stammered.

“I’m not?” she asked with sweet mock-innocence, taking one deliberate step towards him in her high-heeled boots. “You want me to leave?”

She slowly licked her lips as she swiveled her pelvis so that the vixen head at her crotch seemed to wink at the helpless guard.

“I...I...” he stammered.

“Oh but Daniel,” she said, reading his name from his uniform, “I don’t want to leave just now. I want to stay and get to know you better. I’m sure we could be such good friends.”

As she spoke, she continued to advance on him slowly until her nipples nuzzled his chest. She reached up with one gloved finger and stroked him from brow to collar. The young guard shuddered. He was hers.

“I’m under strict orders not to...” he lamely struggled, only to have his half-hearted protest cut off by Wanda’s smoldering kiss, her tongue probing and possessing him.

The Vixen deliberately took the finger tip of one gauntlet in her teeth and pulled it slowly from her hand, letting it drop to the floor, then she playfully scratched the panting guard’s beard with her long nails.

“You want to be my friend, don’t you Daniel?”

The guard swallowed and nodded.

“Good, Daniel, gooooood,” she breathed, reaching down to stroke his crotch and feeling that he indeed very much wanted to be her friend. She gave a low, gentle laugh and started undoing his pants.

“I can be very nice to my friends, Daniel. Very, very nice...”

“Th-there’s a couch in the file room,” he managed.

“Oh how thoughtful of you, Daniel!” praised the Vixen. “I’m going to have to be very, very nice to you!”

The guard led her to the file room, struggling to retrieve his keys from his unfastened pants and let her in.

“There’s the couch,” he said stupidly.

“Yes, I see,” said the Vixen, “And the file cabinets with all the records.”

The guard suffered a moment of clarity.

“Hey, you’re not going to...”

The Vixen silenced him with a finger on his lips and five on his cock.

“We both know what I’m going to do, Daniel. I’m going to give you a fucking that you are never going to forget! Nothing else matters, now, does it?”

The guard dropped his trousers, enthralled.

“No. Nothing else matters.”

The Vixen pushed him forcefully down on the couch, released the clasp of her cloak then crouched and licked him from collar to eyebrow. He trembled.

“Oh Baby!” he exclaimed.

The Vixen stood, hooked her index fingers into her G-string and with a rip, released the velcro that held it in place. It fluttered gently to the ground, baring her hungry, auburn-thatched snatch.

“Oh lordy-lordy-lordy!” exclaimed the guard.

The Vixen growled low in her throat, then in one fluid motion straddled the man there on the couch, his member erect before before her pussy, begging to be consumed by it. She pressed it against her hot, moistening slit, teasing her clitoris with the tip.

“Oooohoho!” he groaned.

“Mmmmm” the Vixen exclaimed, reveling in the sense of power as the chemicals that had transformed her released themselves into her bloodstream in the form of raw sexual energy. “Oh Daniel, I’m going to fuck you so hard!”

“Oh God Yes!” he cried out.

“You’re glad I’m going to fuck you, aren’t you Daniel,” she said, smiling as she drew her middle fingers slowly up the sides of his hard prick,” “You’ll do anything for me if I fuck you, won’t you?” “Anything,” pledged the guard, “Anything!”

“Oh Daniel, you are so fucked!” she exclaimed. Then she rocked her hips, pushed the head of his cock to the mouth of her cunt and thrust, engulfing him with a wet ‘shlup’ and a satisfied grunt.

“God I love my job!” exclaimed the security guard. With a hard cock in her, The Vixen was beyond words. Any vestige of Wanda was washed away in the torrent of lust. She was an animal, a sexual predator in full rut. She howled.

The man beneath her stared in wide-eyed awe, filled with ecstasy and more than a little fear at the beast that had been unleashed. As she rocked back and forth on his cock, rubbing her clit along his shaft, her hands slid up her body to clasp her full breasts within her purple and gold costume. She licked her lips, tossed her cowled head backed an howled once again, squeezing her breasts roughly.

The Vixen fell forward, her breasts pressing against the guard’s chest, her brow to his. Her feral eyes smoldered and she growled. Her pelvis pummeled him: Bam! Sok! Pow!

The guard groaned beneath her onslaught. He was close—close to being hers completely! Arching her back, she went into a slow grind, swirling his cock inside of her as a low, bestial sound started deep in her throat. Both the sound and the grinding grew steadily in intensity and The Vixen slowly rolled her head until she gazed with golden eyes at the distant rafters.

She howled her triumphant Vixen howl as the guard exploded beneath her, gasping as he gave up both his load of spunk and what little remained of his free will. One more helpless victim had succumbed to The Vixen’s lust. She stroked the panting guards face, smiling down at him as he went limp inside her.

“You are mine now, Daniel,” she purred. “Mine, body and soul.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I am yours.”

“And you’ll do anything for me, won’t you Daniel?”

“Anything!” he pledged. “Anything for you, Mistress! I would die for you!”

“Good boy,” she said, patting him on the head, then dismounting. “Show me where they keep the most vital documents.”

The guard went to the file cabinet but rather than open it, he pushed it aside, opened an air vent that was revealed and retrieved a box. It looked like an old pizza box but The Vigilante Vixen knew looks could be deceiving. It was really a lock box, of course, with documents vital to her campaign against the PALM.

She took the box and smiled at her enthralled minion. His employers would no doubt kill him for helping her, but that was no concern of hers. Her blood may have been hot, but her heart was cold.

“Narration, said a voice out of time and space. The Vixen hears the approach of half a dozen of the PALMs enforcers. She tells the security guard to cover her exit and he gladly obeys, coming out of the office with guns blazing at his former fellows as The Vixen takes to the shadows and returns to her lair. She removes her costume, cleans herself, and dresses to once again become Wanda Williams, disgraced former-mayor, to plan and plot until the time is right for The Vigilante Vixen to strike again. End Narration.”

The Vixen was in her lair, her mission completed, her latest victim no doubt a bloody corpse, hopefully having taken down a few of his compatriots on his way out. He had been a good lay, but all that mattered to her was lust and vengeance. Regretfully, she removed her costume, her true identity, for only as The Vixen was she truly alive. She sponged off the sweat and effluvium of the nights work and put on her dress.

“Narration,” said the omnipotent voice of the universe, “Wanda closes her eyes. She is in a place out of time, out of space. She is floating in a place of pure truth. The Vigilante Vixen is only a story, a fantasy that she indulges in. She has spent an hour reviewing comic books with Daniel, the nice comic shop owner. She likes Daniel. She trusts Daniel. She enjoys coming to his shop every Sunday morning. She will come again next Sunday, promptly at ten, and will never suspect that The Vigilante Vixen is anything other than a comic book that she enjoys but does not want her son to read. This is Truth. The rest is fantasy. When I count to three, Wanda will open her eyes, having closed them to rest after all her reading. One...Two...Three. End Narration.”

Wanda opened her eyes. The stack of comics before her had been completely inverted. She must have finished the stack. Funny how they all seemed to blur in her memory after the first couple, but she didn’t really have time to read all of them thoroughly. A cursory glance was sufficient to detect anything objectionable. It would stand out, like that nasty one about The Vigilante Vixen. Wanda blushed, remembering the steamy sex scene. That security guard had looked a lot like Daniel—or maybe she was just projecting since they had the same name. After all, Daniel was real; the guard was fantasy.

“Thank you so much for helping me screen my stock,” Daniel said, startling her out of her reverie. “I’ll make sure to keep the Vigilante Vixen behind the counter, along with the others we discussed.”

The young man seemed a bit flushed, almost glowing, and Wanda felt some strange emotion she couldn’t name.

“Oh, um, you’re welcome, really,” she said, “It..it helps me know that my son isn’t exposed to anything immoral and, well, actually...I kind of like some of them. Not that I’d ever admit that to most people.”

She blushed. She told herself she should get out of there before she did something inappropriate. Besides, she had to pick up Cameron.

“Well, I...really should go.” she said. “Cameron...”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said. “I need to open up the place. Not that I get a lot of customers on Sundays, but the gamers like to hang out here and it keeps them off the streets.”

“You’re a good man, Daniel,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. “But I do what I can.”

She held out her hand. It seemed so...insufficient. But he took it and shook it with a grin that somehow made her blush, though she told herself it was innocent enough.

“I’ll see you next Sunday then,” she said.

“I look forward to it,” he replied.

He reluctantly released her hand and she hurried out of the store.

It was a beautiful day and Wanda felt young and alive. She took in a deep breath and stretched before strolling to her car. All the tension pent up over the past week, over the months since the divorce, seemed to have melted away. She giggled girlishly, somewhat embarrassed that she had become such a comic book fan. Maybe she would come with Cameron later that afternoon. She would increase his allowance so that he could buy more of them. And if she happened to read them afterwards, what of it?

But in all honesty, the ones she enjoyed the most were the ones she read with Daniel on Sunday morning. Those she would never let Cameron buy. They were just far too intense. Maybe when he was older. She didn’t know if she would ever be all right with him reading things like The Vigilante Vixen. So much gratuitous sex and violence! What sort of warped mind came up with things like that? Still, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the serial. But she was and adult. She had earned a few guilty pleasures.

END

AMOWAT 2003