The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Professor Karlsson, thanks so much for agreeing to see me. Please don’t get up, I wouldn’t want to take any more of your time than absolutely necessary. You know, this is my first visit to your country. I must say, after sampling some of the local fare, I’m sure it won’t be the last. Yes, the people of Sweden have opened their homes and so much more to me.”

“What’s that, Norway you say? Wow. Boy is my face red. Talk about embarrassing. Probably just feeds some awful American stereotypes too. Well I hope this doesn’t impact your decision regarding my proposal. In fact, I’m just going to jump right in before I stick my foot any further in my mouth. Comfortable enough for us to get started? Terrific.”

“The first thing you have to understand is that I didn’t ask for this power. I was just minding my own business when one of those bogus psychics offered to tell me my future. I ignored her, but she reached out to grab my wrist. That probably would have been the end of it, except at that moment a radioactive grasshopper bit me. Strange coincidence too, considering the freak lightning storm in the area. Look, I don’t want to bore you with all the mundane scientific details. The main thing is, from then on, I could read minds.”

“Well, not exactly. It doesn’t seem to work on men. Or people under eighteen. Adult women, however… Not only that, but while I’m in there, I can make a few tweaks. Now I know what you’re imagining, but let me just stop you right there. This is not going to be one of THOSE stories. I have too much respect for women to consider something like that. Besides, I only make changes after seeing a girl and reading her thoughts. So if you think about it, it’s basically like them asking for some improvements.”

“You might be surprised by just how improved a girl can get with the right encouragement. I know I was. Look at me now and you’d assume I always had a keen insight into women, but it didn’t used to be this way. Before I got these powers, I actually didn’t have the best of luck with the ladies. For example, I had a pretty big crush on Kelly Thomas, who lived in the apartment across the hall, but I didn’t have the confidence to do anything about it.”

“My only sex life involved dirty websites. I trust you to keep this in confidence, Professor, but I’m pretty kinky. I knew I was supposed to want to take Kelly on a romantic picnic and read her poetry or something, but... All I ever thought about was forcing her into something skimpy, then ripping it off. And after she was naked, I just wanted to pull her hair, or slap her around. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t imagine leaving her seriously hurt or anything. I mean, I’m not a religious man, but some people on the internet really need Jesus. Still I was pretty bad in my own way I guess. Dreaming of spanking her pretty little ass raw, that kind of thing.”

“Of course I wanted to fuck her too. Roughly. In any hole I could. There was just something so hot about imagining Kelly, with that cute smile and that cute brown ponytail, taking my dick down her throat. I don’t mean sucking it, I mean making her take it all. Watching her gag and sputter on her knees. Removing my cock just long enough for her to take a ragged breath before shoving it back in even harder. And right before my climax, I’d look down into her cute brown eyes.”

“Kelly would seem pretty helpless and humiliated by that point. I mean, how could she not? While I can’t speak from experience, how much pleasure could really be derived from having a man grab you by the hair and fuck your mouth? There’s no physical stimulation to it. And the power dynamic is completely one sided. The man just takes what he wants while the woman literally has to choke on it. Then again, I guess for the right kind of girl that could be hot. Once in a while at least. Before I became a mind controller, though, I had no way of knowing whether Kelly was that way or not.”

“But if I’m being honest, I didn’t want to do things like that to just Kelly. I guess it would be safe to say that I have a type. Not physically so much, but in terms of personality. Some guys go for the bimbo, the kind of girl who doesn’t think too hard about anything besides her appearance. Not me. I like the smart ones. Women who love to read and have interesting opinions on politics. It drives me nuts when I hear men complaining about their girlfriend talking too much. I say there’s nothing hotter than a woman who just can’t help sharing her opinion all the time.”

“Only I dreamed of making a spirited, confident, intelligent girl wear a leash and collar. Tying her up, working her right to the brink of an insane climax, then leaving her frustrated. Forcing her to use all that ambition and talent on pleasing me. Of course that included satisfying me sexually in any way imaginable, but it was more than that. I dreamed of making her perform for me. In the kitchen. In the bedroom. Everywhere. It’s not that I wanted her miserable. Totally the opposite. Hey, I always planned to let her orgasm eventually. As long as she begged prettily enough.”

“Sounds depraved, right? That’s what I thought. Which is why I assumed all my fantasies would remain fantasy. That’s why I wanted my fantasies to remain fantasy. Even the rare occasions I had sex for real, I was always as gentle as I could manage. I was terrified of mussing a single hair on a woman’s head. But once I got the power, everything changed. I realized that women fantasized about the exact same things I did. Not all girls, but more than you’d think. Hell, they dreamed about stuff my websites couldn’t even have imagined.”

“The best part? It wasn’t necessarily the ones you’d expect either. I noticed that right away. I mean some of those women in glasses and shirts buttoned to the collar bone, heading to work at a law firm or major publishing company, were thinking about things that blew my mind. It would have been so easy to bring one home and put her through her paces. But as I said, this isn’t going to be one of those stories.”

“Sure, I’ll admit it was tempting to use my mind control to satisfy some of my baser instincts. The most important thing, though, is being able to look yourself in the mirror every morning. I initially considered just not using the power at all. Pretending it didn’t exist. But that didn’t sit right morally. I mean, here I was with this amazing gift, how could I squander it in good conscience? Especially considering all the positive things I could achieve. Think about how many women are lonely or depressed. I could fix that. I could save them!”

“Before really getting to work making the world a better place, though, I had to eliminate some day to day interferences. I quit my job. My boss, Ms. Lawrence, didn’t seem too disappointed. I suppose I’d always been a bit of an underachiever. She even reamed me out pretty good a few times. But while we were both happy I was moving on, I still needed money to eat and live.”

“Luckily, I realized a happy coincidence. Some women have fantasies about being whored out. Selling their body, making a living on their backs or knees, with all the reward going to some sleazy pimp. What an opportunity. Just to show Ms. Lawrence there were no hard feelings over any past run-ins, I gave her the first crack at it. She goes by Peaches now. I picked the name out myself. The corner where I sent her is a little run down, but she makes it up with quantity.”

“Even when she was my boss, I always imagined using her body however I wanted. When she lectured me, for instance, I’d always want to physically force her against the wall of my cubicle. At that point, I’d calmly explain how as much as I respected her as a leader, I’d decided she’d fit better in a new position I’d envisioned for her.”

“Taking the scissors from my desk, I’d start cutting her out of her pants suit. Once she was down to her underwear, breasts heaving in desperation, my usually unflappable boss would know the score. She’d start begging me to stop, offering to never speak of it again. I’d put a finger on her lips to silence her, before bringing the scissors up to clip her left bra strap, and then the right. Moving down to the panties, I’d know I made the right decision. Ms. Lawrence would be so much happier putting her responsibilities to the side so she could focus on being a naked, helpless, plaything.”

“Where would thoughts like that even come from if she wasn’t the type? There was just something about this supposedly conservative businesswoman that screamed out to be treated like a piece of meat. Ms. Lawrence belonged in some cheap, skintight mini skirt. Yes, I’m almost positive she must have always wanted to fuck disgusting, strange men to pay my bills.”

“I didn’t confine myself, however, to only girls I had known before the power. Instead, I got to do some good all over the community by helping women live out dreams they never would have the courage for without a nudge. Meanwhile, the money they delivered allowed me to spend more time finding other women to save. It was all so wonderfully symbiotic. As a Scandinavian, I’m sure you can appreciate the collective spirit of the whole thing.”

“Plus, not to brag, but my parents raised me right. I don’t have a racist bone in my body. No discrimination whatsoever in terms of the women I’m willing to help. Black, Hispanic, I’ve even got a Pacific Islander. And it’s not as if I just accept girls of all colors and creeds; I actively seek them out. Still I can’t claim to be perfect. I mean, I really wanted an Indian for my collection. Feather, not dot. One Halloween, I thought my search was over, but she turned out to just be a half-Korean girl dressed like a slutty Pocahontas. I suppose it worked out, because between Rachel’s dark hair and perky breasts, I would have wanted to help her regardless. Make the best of any situation, right?”

“Before too long, for instance, I had a lot of girls bringing me money. They even emptied out their life savings so they’d be motivated to make as much as possible. First world problem, I know. But they were lined up out the door of my admittedly not that nice studio apartment. That inconvenienced my neighbors. Well, except for Kelly who was spending most of her time over at my place by then. It was probably a fire hazard too. So as you see, I had no choice but to move. Using the girls’ money as a down payment, I bought a… well, I guess you could call it a mansion. Giant house sitting on hundreds of secluded acres, the whole deal.”

“My new palace definitely solved a lot of problems, but I still felt like there was something missing. After inserting the command to have the girls show up with my money every Friday, it seemed so anti-climactic for them to just hand it over and then leave. It may seem silly, but even people devoting their lives to good works need a little pomp and circumstance. Not for myself, of course. I mean it wouldn’t have felt right if I didn’t make an effort to let the women working with me just how much I appreciated them.”

“That’s why I developed a whole ceremony. I spent hours planning it. Trying to make sure every detail was perfect. When I got it right, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I suppose it was just great to see my sacrifice pay off for all the women I was assisting. First, I make all the girls bring my money in cash. They aren’t only strippers and whores after all. A lot kept their normal day job. Once they arrive at the house, however, advertising executives and prostitutes alike get the same treatment.”

“Hair goes into pigtails. You don’t see grown women wearing that style much. Too bad in my opinion, because there’s something pretty hot about knowing you can grab one tail in each hand and control a girl completely. Like she came naturally equipped with handlebars so a man can ride her better. It all worked out for the best, though, since I wanted the whole event to have a special occasion feel. If all these women usually wore their hair more fashionably, putting it in pigtails let them know this wouldn’t be more of the usual. Same idea with the rest of the outfit.”

“Well, I suppose there really wasn’t much to it. I had all the girls put on a skimpy thong and a strappy pair of high heels. It’s all about simplicity. Class and elegance go a long way, I always say. That’s the genius of having them down to panties and stilettos. All these women normally wear clothes, right? What kind of person would I be if the weekly celebration I planned for their benefit was more of the same?”

“It’s practical too. The girls line the band of their thong with my money. After that, they each have five minutes, just the two of us, while they give me a lap dance and I collect my cash. Excuse me, our cash. It’s not like I have them gyrating on top of me just for my benefit, after all.”

“I can see you’re skeptical, so let me alleviate your concerns right now. There’s nothing sexually exploitative going on here. Sure, when it first started, having a parade of topless, pig-tailed women, each enthusiastically rubbing her bare ass against my crotch while paying me for the privilege was a big turn on. Actually the hottest part was probably the girls waiting for their turn. All those nearly naked women lined up, jiggling.”

“They’d look a little unsteady thanks to the stripper heels. But the expressions on their faces really made it. At first glance, you’d see boredom. The girls just stood uncomfortably, they rarely talked to each other. I guess being heavily made-up and dressed like a whore kills your urge to make small talk with strangers. Instead they stood in awkward silence, with nothing to think about except shaking their assets. It’s not like there were any entertainment options to pass the time. They were the entertainment options.”

“When you looked deeper, though, the embarrassment came through. The lack of clothes was part of it. I mean, before the power I would have given my left hand just to see any of those women topless, but they still had insecurities about their body and being displayed. Man, the number society does on women’s self-esteem. Do you realize that some of them actually felt objectified? Like they were nothing but a pair of tits, an ass and a wet pussy. Oh yes Professor, they were definitely aroused. Every single one of them. Of course, I may have had a little something to do with that. We’ll get to that, though.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, here were these individual women, each with their own hopes, dreams and personality. But standing there tottering on high heels, tits hanging out, they worried that they lost that. That there was nothing unique about them being treated like a piece of meat. No, they stood nearly naked in a row, along with a bunch of other girls just like them, all waiting to perform for the man pimping them out.”

“So fine, it was a little sexually exploitative, especially considering that it’s not like there were any rules against touching. No, I grabbed, pinched or squeezed anything I felt like. I assure you, however, that I had good, selfless reasons for everything I did. Why else would I continue holding the event week after week? Especially since, as exciting as it was initially for me, eventually it just turns into a routine. Seriously, even with a pretty girl humping my leg while I spanked her for encouragement, my thoughts would drift.”

“For example, during one session, I started thinking about my mansion. It was a lot to maintain on my own, so I had to get some help. Since I’d already assisted so many girls by that point, I figured some of them would be eager to contribute. And sure enough, every woman I asked accepted immediately. They all moved in with me, taking to their new jobs like fish to water. Cooks, chauffeurs, gardeners, every single one of them walked around dazed, like they couldn’t even believe their good luck.”

“I made sure to let all my new serving girls know how important they were to my whole charity operation. Even though they were no longer bringing in money, house girls and working girls are equal partners in my book. I could sense, however, that all the women who moved in were feeling a little down. Luckily for them, I had another moment of inspiration. What builds team spirit and common purpose better than uniforms?”

“I picked them out myself. I wanted something functional, but still stylish enough so the girls felt beautiful. Since many of the jobs required physical labor, I tried to avoid any excess fabric that would get in the way. Comfortable workers are happy workers, I always say. A tiny string bikini seemed to do the trick nicely. Plus I color-coded them so you could tell which job a girl was assigned to at a glance: black for the maids, green for the groundskeepers, etc.”

“It worked out just as well as I’d hoped. With nothing but a thong wedged up each girl’s ass and barely supported boobs bouncing around, there was no danger of them overheating. Well not temperature wise at least. Once I just sat outside watching a pool girl in her electric blue bikini get on her knees to check the chemicals.”

“I think her name was Sandra, or maybe Sally, or was it… well, who the hell can remember? What I do recall is her tight little ass sticking up in the air and her perky little tits swaying beneath her. It definitely seemed like her skimpy uniform was leaving her with a great range of motion, but I needed to be absolutely sure. Just the way I am, I guess. So I walked over to her, and slapped that nearly bare ass as hard as I could. She let out a high-pitched little cry. More importantly, her sexy body jiggled all over. That’s how I knew the bikini wouldn’t get in the way of any job my girls needed to do.”

“But it wasn’t all about utility of course. They say men are more visual creatures, but I think that’s just sexist nonsense. Women care about appearance just as much. So I added high heels to the uniform. It definitely made all the girls look so much hotter since it forced their ass and their tits out on display. What can I say, I guess I just have a good eye for those kind of things. I encouraged my serving girls by tweaking all that exposed flesh when I saw them working. That always left me with a warm, satisfied feeling. It’s true what they say Professor, the most gratifying part of life is using your talents to help others.”

“Even with all the pride I felt in using my power to promote a better world, however, I certainly wasn’t blind to the ethical implications. No matter how pure your intentions, it would just be too easy to grow corrupt if you were constantly manipulating women’s minds. Not to mention the invasion of privacy. That’s why I just make a few small changes initially, then never use my power on the same woman again.”

“My first step involves their libido. Maybe you don’t have this problem in Europe, but back in the States there’s definitely an attitude that sexuality is sinful. Especially for women. Damn puritans. It’s all so unfair when you think about it. No one should have to apologize for enjoying themselves. Luckily for my girls, I’m not some caveman. Sex makes them happy, and I don’t have any hang-ups about that. Just the opposite, actually, which is why I make sure they’re all nice and turned-on.”

“Then again, it’s a fine line. A woman couldn’t exactly function if she was constantly climaxing after all. That’s why I set their minds to get them right to the brink of a mind-blowing orgasm, before holding them at the edge. Since women enjoy sex, it’s only logical that they enjoy being hot, wet and ready to go. Now wait a second there, Professor. I resent the implication that keeping my girls needy is some form of punishment. While they’re probably frustrated to have their sopping, little pussies worked up with no relief, it’s not as if they’re in that state all the time. I’m not some kind of monster, obviously.”

“Furthest thing from it, really. People are adaptable. I’m sure that if a girl stayed at the edge of orgasm constantly, eventually she would get used to it and the enjoyment would dim. Well that, or she would go completely crazy. Either way, no dice. My solution? Randomize it. Sometimes the woman’s brain will keep her horny for hour after agonizing hour. Other times, she’ll go a day with no abnormal stimulation at all.”

“It worked just as well as I hoped. My girls are always either dripping or thinking about it now. And how unhappy could they really be if their pussy is soaking? Since they never know when it’s coming, though, they can’t prepare themselves and it hits them hard every time. A great solution for everyone. Well, except the laundry girls who spend most of their time cleaning tiny thongs that stink of sex. When you think about it, however, I suppose that’s just one more advantage to the uniform. Not too much surface area to clean. Still, it’s not an absolutely perfect system. Sometimes a girl stays charged up for too long, causing… slight issues.”

“The current record holder was one of the maids. Her mind randomly kept her on the brink of orgasm for five straight days. By the end, I found her rolling around on my lawn, naked, pinching her own nipples while she screamed: ‘Too much,’ over and over again as if she was in a trance. It was a little scary actually. Still, it wasn’t all bad. She looked pretty hot like that, even though she was dirty from writhing on the grass. Something about her sweaty body and the desperation in her voice. I fucked her like she wanted, but I guess she was too far gone by then. Even after multiple orgasms, she just kept pleading for more.”

“I couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for her condition. Sure, there was nothing I could have done to prevent her going sex crazy. But I’d still committed myself to assisting any woman I could. Even the horny little nymphos that can’t control themselves. Judgment free zone, you know? After I’d fixed the damage, she was able to get back to a normal lifestyle. Vacuuming the living room while she begs me to take her doggystyle.”

“Excuse me Professor, but I’m a little offended. To even suggest that I would so much as consider sexual relations with a woman without her enthusiastic consent... I can honestly say I’ve never used my power to force a girl to sleep with me. Before I’d even consider taking them, as a matter of fact, I make them tell me why they want it in explicit, creative detail. And my results speak for themselves.”

“You should see how happy they are now. No more depression. No more anxiety. No more mental health issues of any kind. Just women single-mindedly focused on getting fucked. Almost obsessed with it, actually. I’m just glad I could play a small part in helping them find their true passion in life. I couldn’t kid myself, though, Professor. As much as I’d helped them, the changes were still fragile. It seemed like they could fall back into their old, self-destructive behaviors in no time at all. And we couldn’t have that, could we?”

“I gave it a lot of thought, and I finally realized the problem. Not to get on my soapbox, but it really all comes down to society as a whole. We’re so focused on instant gratification. Fast food. Same day package delivery by drone. What happened to appreciating the little things? I mean, when was the last time you put your phone down long enough to truly notice the beauty of a, I don’t know, pinecone or something? Or really took the time to get to know that weird aunt who will not the shut the hell up? Does getting what we want immediately actually make us any happier?”

“I think the answer is obvious. So the question was, how could I help my girls delay gratification? Easy. Don’t allow them to pleasure themselves. Playing with yourself is a disgusting habit when you really stop and think about it. I should know, I used to jerk off all the time. That is until I got my power and started using it to help women. Now I can’t even remember the last time I thought about masturbating. And know what? I’m so much more sexually satisfied these days.”

“At first, the girls whined about the change. As if they really needed to use their naughty fingers or some ridiculous toy. I swear, from the way they carried on, you’d have thought I was torturing them. Pretty soon, however, they got into the spirit of things. Sure, I’ll admit one girl or another would often shoot me a bitter look, or even complain that I couldn’t understand what being kept so horny without relief was doing to her mentally.”

“Whenever it happened, though, I’d just patiently explain how it was really for her own good. Sometimes things which seem uncomfortable at the time, like when she woke up to find herself humping her tiny cot in the servant quarters, turn out to be for the best. That’s the human experience really, embracing it all, the good with the bad. Maybe technology has made some forget that. Not me.”

“By that point, I knew how much good I’d done for my girls’ quality of life. Only one more thing needed my attention. I’d dealt with their personal issues, but not with their environment. You know what they say, environment is one of the most important aspects of mental health. At least I assume they do. Probably. But there was something I was sure about.”

“I hope this doesn’t come across as misogynistic, but I swear to God women have the worst fucking taste in men. They just always seem to pick guys who cause them pain. That’s why I used my power to make sure they only end up with men that appreciate them. A lot of boyfriends and husbands had to be dumped of course. You know, that just goes to prove my point. Women don’t know how to pick the right kind of man. It was obvious to me that the girls were nearly all in unhealthy relationships. I’ve developed more sympathy for the problem, though, since I took over the decision making process. There just aren’t many good men out there, period.”

“I actually haven’t found a single one I’d allow any of my girls to be with in all this time. It’s not as if I’m jealous by nature or anything. After all, I still let the girls working for me as whores fuck all the customers they can. It’s more accurate to say I relieve women from the stress of having to decide who they’ll be allowed to sleep with by taking on the burden myself. You don’t think I actually enjoy having a whole harem of sex starved women who are only allowed to fulfill their desires with me, do you? I have decent stamina, but it’s not like I could come even close to satisfying all of them. Instead, they have to compete against each other to prove they can please me enough to make it worth my time.”

“Fine, I suppose I’d be lying if I told you there’s not a part of me that gets some selfish enjoyment from barring the girls from spending time with other men without permission. How can I help it, though, if protecting them from making any terrible mistakes also benefits me? Frankly Professor, I feel like I deserve it, and think it’s a little ungenerous of you to disagree. After all, who else would show this much restraint if they were given powers like mine? I never even make any other changes.”

“Well, never except for Kelly. Once I got started with her, I just couldn’t help myself. First came the physical transformation. Since I’d always felt Kelly was little bit special, I figured her outfit should be also. It just wouldn’t have been right to put her in one of those bright colored serving girl bikinis. I also wanted to make sure I always got a little variety. Part of me thought I should rotate her through a tiny schoolgirl outfit, a naughty nurse thing and a French maid’s uniform. Eventually I thought better of it. This was Kelly Thomas, the girl I’d spent a few years secretly drooling over. I had to come up with something more subtle.”

“In the end, it was really easy. For example, I loved her in blue jeans and a t-shirt. They had to be tight, of course, but it wasn’t indecent. I bet if you walked out on the street right now, you’d see a girl dressed the exact same way. You know the type, jeans accentuating a girl’s curves, begging you to stare at her ass. It was pretty much the hottest thing in the world to watch Kelly, wearing only her little lace underwear, wiggle into them. She always briefly struggled before the jeans pulled snugly over her hips.”

“I had her wear her own t-shirts too. It’s that standard girl look which is so sexy it’s unfair. Taut over the breasts, revealing a tiny sliver of midriff, but nothing that would raise any eyebrows. Other than that, Kelly just wore her normal glasses and some ratty, old tennis shoes. I can’t say it’s hotter than the serving girls in their bikinis. Then again, I can’t say it’s less hot either. Just knowing that she could walk out on the street without causing any comments, but underneath she’s boiling with desire drove me crazy.”

“I didn’t give Kelly the same random horniness the other girls got. I just worked her up myself whenever the mood struck. Which was pretty much anytime I saw her. Those deep, brown eyes of hers would go wide every time I went into her head to press her buttons. She’d give me her needy look, but I’d just pretend not to notice. Kelly would begin fidgeting, breathing heavily, even letting out the occasional moan. Her only desire in the world at that point would be losing her clothes so I would play with her. Those jeans and t-shirt might as well have been a chastity belt. And she’d have to wait for me to snap my fingers until I let her worm out of them.”

“Still, it’s not like Kelly was the only one who had to do without in the name of progress. No one sacrificed more than me. For example, I designed an hour and a half long workout program for her everyday. And planning was just the start. Once implemented, I monitored every tiny detail. Stretching, yoga, aerobics. More stretching. I got a strap so I could give Kelly a little slap on the behind anytime she showed less than perfect form. You could see her perky little boobs bouncing through the thin workout costume. And it was cut high enough to reveal all of her thighs. As she moved, it wedged further and further into her. If she tried to re-adjust, though, I’d give her the strap. She was supposed to be focusing on healthy living, not her appearance, after all.”

“Besides, I was happy to watch that aspect of her workout myself. She looked so amazing in those little leotards I bought her. A different neon color for each day of the week. She even had matching socks. Knee high, of course. Damndest thing, since I never would have imagined I cared about, or even noticed a women’s socks. But for Kelly, bathed in sweat, standing on one leg, raising the other as high as she could manage, while the leotard rode impossibly far into her ass, those knee high socks really added something to it.”

“All that working out really did her body good too. Except for her ass, maybe, which sometimes needed a break when I got a little too enthusiastic about ensuring perfect form. Still, you should have seen Kelly in her June Cleaver housewife outfit. Dress stopping just above the knees. Pearls around her throat. High heels and her hair done up elaborately completing the look. Unless she was wearing the matching apron. It didn’t make much sense now that I think about it, since Kelly can’t cook, and even thinking about ordering her to clean something looking like that got me so hard I always ended up jumping her before she even started.”

“The dress buttoned down the front, which definitely provided some practical benefits. I mean, what’s the point of having the girl of your dreams at your beck and call if you don’t tease her a little bit? I’d heat Kelly up until she was practically drowning, before starting to unbutton. Slow and steady wins the race, though, so I’d undo the very top button, and then stop. She’d let out a little gasp, thinking she was about to get what she needed before realizing she’d have to earn that particular privilege.”

“If I was in a cruel mood, I’d make her read a book or something. Kelly would have to sit there, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on the words in front of her instead of her aching sex. After a while, I’d walk by and pop another button, as Kelly gasped again. It was hard to decide which I loved more: her gasps, or her dress for having so many buttons. When I finally unhooked the last one, the dress would hang open like a coat, revealing her flimsy lingerie.”

“Those big brown eyes would look up at me, silently begging, and I’d wait a beat before nodding, giving her permission to strip. Except for the heels and the pearls, though, I liked her to keep wearing those. I don’t know why since she would have immediately bent herself into a pretzel if I wanted, but I always took her missionary on housewife days. Something just felt right about getting on top of her, grabbing her wrists and holding them above her head, while I lay into her.”

“The funny thing was, I didn’t even have to go into her mind to give her an insane climax. After keeping her at a slow burn all day, she was so wound up sexually that if I so much as breathed on her she’d nearly pass out from the pleasure. When I spread her thighs and actually started fucking her, Kelly would explode. It was so intense for her you could almost see her eyes roll back in her head. It’s hard to explain, but I got off as much from her squealing as anything physical.”

“Some of her other clothes did show a little more skin. Ok, a lot more skin. I was especially partial to these little cut off shorts that didn’t even cover her ass all the way. The tank top I matched it with might have exposed even more. Then I’d send her out to wash my limo. Kelly would deliberately get herself soapy and wet, rubbing herself against the car in an attempt to entice me to fuck her. Sometimes it would work. Other times I’d tell her she missed a spot before heading back inside to get a blowjob from the nearest serving girl.”

“Unsurprisingly, though, before too long, just dressing her how I wanted wasn’t enough. I made her get a boob job. Even now, I really can’t explain why. As a man I can definitely appreciate a woman with big breasts, but it’s never been mandatory for me. After all, I was crazy over Kelly, and hers were pretty small. Once I had the power to make her do anything I wanted, though, I just started obsessing over the idea of forcing her to carry around huge tits for my amusement.”

“After the surgery, though, I was a little disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, her new breasts were definitely large. I also did a little work in her mind to make sure her nipples were even more sensitive than before. Knowing that even though they were Kelly’s tits, only I decided what they looked like, felt like and how big they’d go was also satisfying. And I had a great time slapping them around or squeezing them while I rode her from behind. I actually started calling them her funbags.”

“Kelly hated the nickname and the new breasts which inspired it. I tried to see it from her perspective. How demeaning it must be to have some guy use her pussy to control her. The humiliation from having her outfits picked out for her. And the final degradation of being forced to take sexual pleasure from insults of her despicable and oh so sensitive fake tits. All from the man who forced her to get them in the first place.”

“But I couldn’t manage any sympathy when Kelly dropped to her knees, offering me anything I wanted if I’d only consider fucking her. I’d stare at her heaving breasts and consider my options. It was just… they looked so fake. Like two plastic melons unnaturally shoved under her skin. The thing was, Kelly really didn’t have the frame to pull off her new chest. I tried talking to her about it.”

“Just letting her know that she really didn’t have the bookish, girl next door quality that had first attracted me anymore. I suggested she work on her posture or something to maybe reignite the spark. She tried, but every time I saw her, all I noticed were those big, fake tits hanging. Like a giant sign reading: My name is Kelly the bimbo, please stick it up my ass. I mean, even her workout sessions looked x-rated since her breasts kept popping out of her leotard. That’s when I realized I couldn’t convince her to try for a classier look with logic. Instead I decided to attempt positive and negative re-enforcement. The same way you’d teach a pet to behave.”

“When she was good, I’d reward her with a nice, hard fucking. Sadly, she mostly seemed incapable of acting properly. It was pretty surprising after all the time I’d spent pining for her to realize how dirty she actually was. Even though I told her she’d be allowed to orgasm if she stopped acting like an oversexed whore, Kelly could barely ever manage it. Every time she’d get worked up, the begging and moaning would start. She’d even begin rubbing the big tits she supposedly hated so much. I mean, you can’t exactly take a girl to a fancy restaurant if you’re worried everyone, even the waitress, will look down on you for bringing a date with too large breasts who can’t even order appetizers without a throaty, horny whisper.”

“It broke my heart, but mostly I had to use negative re-enforcement. I went with spankings. She’d lay over my knees while I pulled down her pants or flipped up her skirt. As I brought my palm down over her ass, I’d start to feel a nice heat as it reddened. Maybe I should have picked something else for negative re-enforcement, because it definitely seemed like Kelly enjoyed being spanked. Her spanking grunts sounded a lot like her sex grunts, that’s for sure. It became increasingly clear I had to find another method.”

“I figured maybe if she changed her appearance a little more, she’d turn back into the girl I grew infatuated with originally. After she returned from the salon, though, I realized my mistake. Kelly’s new blonde hair color made her look even more empty-headed than before. If it had been hard to respect her once she started begging for sex while wiggling those dumb, fake tits, it became impossible when she added platinum blonde pigtails. The new piercings in her belly button, tongue and nipples didn’t help either.”

“God she looked stupid. Exactly like one of those ridiculous porn stars who you can vaguely tell might have used to be normal looking girl you’d want to take to a movie, but gave that up in an attempt to be a real life Barbie doll. I mean talk about self-esteem issues. Transforming every aspect of her appearance to the point that no one who looked at her could see anything but sex. All for no reason besides fulfilling some perverse male fantasy.”

“Even Kelly’s eyes looked blank. Like all the brains behind them had somehow been fucked out of her. Interestingly enough, I didn’t have anything to do with that. I didn’t use my power to change her intellect at all. She was still just as bright as ever. What I’ve learned, however, is that when a woman gets desperately horny, that’s pretty much all she can think about. And the needier Kelly got, the more docile she became. Her normal resentment for being ordered around like a slavegirl would turn into obedience and then outright eagerness. It was hot, if a little horrifying, to see how enthusiastic she got about licking her own breasts or something.”

“It’s a good thing she had me. Who knows what troubles a woman basically in heat could get herself into? As easy as it is to look down on a girl like that, it’s just how certain females work. Even the smart ones. Hell, especially the smart ones. I figure they’re better able to focus on whatever it is they’re experiencing. Increasingly for Kelly, all she could focus on was her dripping pussy.”

“By then, my feelings for Kelly had really changed. Instead of the vibrant woman I fell for, she’d turned into a sex crazed party girl. I didn’t let her wear the jeans or housewife outfit anymore. Why bother? Those clothes only work when there’s just something about the way a woman carries herself that makes you want to see what’s underneath. Even in a nun’s habit, you couldn’t have mistaken Kelly for anything but a brainless slut. The kind of girl with no mystery to her, who would gladly give it up to any man who so much as looked her direction.”

“I started keeping her dressed only in her new leash and collar, resting at my feet, instead. Anytime I felt like some rough sex, I’d tug on it to pull her close. She’d briefly squeak once she felt the collar tighten around her neck, before giving me her big, bimbo smile. You know the kind. The kind of look a person gives when they need something desperately, and you’re the only one who can give it to them. So they plaster on the fakest, most cloying expression you’ll ever see.”

“Something in me hated that smile, just like something in me started to hate Kelly’s enthusiastic screaming while I rode her. You wouldn’t think it would bother me as much since we never used the missionary position anymore. I only wanted Kelly on her hands and knees by that point. Big tits flopping underneath her. It’s where she belonged. Even with her ass up in the air and face pressed to the ground, though, her bimbo moans were all I could think about.”

“Having her wear a gag mostly solved that problem. I tried out a couple of varieties just to see which suited her best. The first time I saw the eventual winner, however, I knew the search was over. With the red ball strapped in her mouth, Kelly would often drool, especially when we fucked. Along with the collar, it made her look like a dog playing fetch. Yet you could still hear her whimpering, alive with pleasure, begging for more through the gag.”

“Still, I guess there was some small, residual part of me that remembered how it used to be. Before she threw it all away for who knows what reason. Whenever I got the urge to sell her to an Arab Sheik or something, I’d make a conscious effort to think about the old Kelly. If there was a tiny chance any of that was still inside her, it was worth the time to try and bring it out. So I’d call Kelly over and have her sit on my lap.”

“I knew slapping her around would just bring out the submissive plaything, so instead I was gentle. She used to like me nibbling on her ears, so I’d try that. I’d massage all over her body while I kissed her. Whispering softly, I’d tell her how beautiful she was and that I’d loved her from the first moment I saw her. I promised her that if she could just control her body with her mind, I’d give up all the other women for her. That I only wanted to spend all day pleasuring her, to see how many times I could make her cum. You know how she reacted? By soaking my pants where she’d been sitting.”

“That was the moment I realized there was only one option left for Kelly. I calmly told her that giving her special treatment seemed to be enabling bad behavior. She listened dully as I told her to find the head serving girl so she could be assigned a bikini and a job. As I replaced my personal control over her libido with the standard randomized horniness, I watched her sex fog temporarily clear. Staring into her brown eyes, I thought about entering her mind, but resisted. She was just another girl now.”

“I was still curious though. When Kelly looked down at her big, fake breasts with shiny bars through the nipples, what was she thinking? Was she even capable of thinking anymore? Maybe she just contented herself with doing whatever she was told in the hopes her obedience would be rewarded. It’s really not the worst life for a girl when you think about it. No stress, no worries. Just a wet pussy and a man to make all the decisions that used to consume her time. How to dress, what to say, when to fuck.”

“As I considered what went on in that pretty, empty head of hers, Kelly’s eyes briefly went wide. It didn’t take a mind reader to realize her brain had started working her up. She looked at me, pleading silently for some relief, but I had no intention of indulging her. After all Kelly put me through, it was only fair that she learned to deal with not always getting what she wanted. I motioned for her to leave the room, giving her a hard slap on the butt to send her on her way after she turned around.”

“Kelly walked away from me, towards her new life as a scantily clad serving girl. Her ass, I reflected, still had an appealing wiggle to it. Even with the ridiculous platinum blonde pigtails bouncing on her head. I decided that it all probably worked out for the best for Kelly. She’d make an excellent maid. And as long as she made a good show of it, maybe I’d even give her the fucking she was so eager for every once in a while.”

“Hypocritical? I’m not sure I follow, Professor. Oh, you mean the fact that I get as much pleasure as I want, whenever I feel like it, while keeping her constantly needy? I’m disappointed to hear that, I would have thought someone of your education could see the obvious problems with that argument. It’s like the President playing golf. Easy to criticize, but just consider all the responsibilities he has. The entire world’s e-mails aren’t just going to read themselves. If he didn’t take time off now and again, he’d go crazy.”

“Same thing with me. Girls with menial jobs can deal with a little sexual deprivation. It’s for their own good after all. I, however, need to stay in top mental condition all the time. If I’m thinking about what woman to fuck and what position to put her in, I’d lose focus. Who knows what could go wrong then? As long as a desperately horny girl wants nothing more in the world than for me to use her body like a toy, it’s basically a win-win for all of us.”

“Besides, it’s not like Kelly, or any of the other girls, never get a chance to orgasm. And I’m not just referring to when one catches my eye enough to bend her over. I hold a weekly tournament so any woman who really needs some relief can get it. I know enough about women to understand, however, that even though constant teasing may make an orgasm feel good, the pleasure is only physical, and thus, temporary. For the climax to be truly fulfilling on all levels, the girl needs to know she earned it. And what better way to achieve that than to have them fight one another for the right to cum?”

“It’s the humane thing to do when you really think about it. Gives them a shot at some sexual release and mental stimulation all at once. Rolling around with each other, desperately trying to make the other girl submit is even good exercise. Still, I had to be careful. What kind of benefactor would I be if I allowed any of my girls to actually hurt themselves? That’s why I set up strict rules. No biting, punching or kicking. No drawing blood. No contact above the neck. I ended up permitting the Heidi Wilson exception, though, allowing French kissing to try and disorient your opponent. Hair pulling is alright too.”

“At first I made the girls fight in a variety of substances. Mud, oil, jello. I even tried creamed corn. Some were too dirty. It’s theoretically fun to make a woman roll around in muck, but it doesn’t take long to realize the downsides. The mud coats their body, so you can still see the general outline, but all the good bits get obscured. What’s the point of having naked girls rubbing against each other if you can’t see every inch of flesh in exquisite detail? Baby oil didn’t have that problem, but it got in a cat fighter’s eyes and mouth, lowering the quality of the wrestling.”

“I briefly worried they would have to grapple dry. The girls’ enjoyment was, of course, my only concern. I’d already gone to the trouble of having all their body hair permanently removed for the same reason. Too often, a desperate to orgasm girl will attempt to push against an opponent’s body as tightly as possible hoping to subdue her. With their dripping mounds grinding against each other, both girls squirming for any advantage, I worried excess hair could lead to chafing. Having solved that problem, I couldn’t allow the girls to feel uncomfortable friction as their bodies, dry except for a slight sheen of sweat, mashed together, now could I?”

“It took me a while, but I finally realized less is more. Instead of forcing the girls to wrestle in a pool of oil, I oiled them up beforehand. To make sure the job was done perfectly, I took on the responsibility myself. Starting at the ankles, I’d massage a girl up her body leaving a shiny trail. Even when every inch seems to glisten, I’d keep at it. Hips, breasts, ass, there were just so many trouble spots. I had to be careful, however, not to ruin everything by working my fingers into an all too willing pussy.”

“By that point, it wouldn’t take much stimulation to give a girl an undeserved climax. Even a woman who wasn’t randomly being kept on the edge of an orgasm at that moment had spent the past weeks being teased without relief. That was combined with being stripped naked, having every nook and crevasse of her body massaged. Finally, there was the anticipation that she would soon be rolling around on the ground with another girl, just as nude and just as desperate.”

“I wasn’t deaf to their throaty little pleading, but as I always tell the girls: resisting temptation makes you stronger. When I saw the amount of pleasure a winning wrestler got from her orgasm, it just proved what a wonderful thing I was doing. But more than just delivering a sense of achievement, catfights also provide a great opportunity for free expression. I never want to stifle my girls’ creativity, so they’re no set criteria for winning. Mostly I just let the match go on until I get bored.”

“If you told me before the power that I would ever have gotten tired watching a pair of oiled, naked girls forcibly rubbing against each other, I’d have assumed you were crazy. Shows what I knew. Even the squealing and grunting gets passé eventually. Seen hundreds of girls squeeze one another’s breasts hoping to force the other to submit, seen ‘em all, I say.”

“At this point, I really go for the contrast. There are the old classics of course. I’m sure I don’t have to explain the appeal of a haughty white girl, broken and submissive at the feet of her African-American better. Or the separate but equal pleasure of a proud black girl put in her place thanks to her smirking, pale opponent. That’s, however, only the start. A woman with small boobs versus one with big boobs is a particular favorite.”

“It’s not so much the physical difference, since girls grinding their soft breasts against each other in desperate sexual hunger is stimulating regardless of cup size. Instead it’s the underlying emotions which make the matches must see viewing. I hear you, Professor, it caught me by surprise too.”

“Women notice each other’s chest size more than I realized before the power. Girls who are a little flatter deal with some jealousy issues, resenting the extra attention for women carrying more up top. Even so, they also seem to naturally look down on the same girls they’re jealous of. As if big tits have some sort of negative correlation on intelligence.”

“A larger breasted woman, though, has just as much of a complex the other way. It would be impossible, after all, not to be affected at least a little by the whispers and catty comments she tried to convince herself she left behind with high school. Even if a woman whose life is completely together in every respect walks down a hall, breasts covered demurely in a heavy-duty bra and bulky sweater, she still has to find herself knowing that every woman she passes is judging her chest. Silently weighing and measuring. Even calculating exactly how much sagginess to expect.”

“More than just the embarrassment of knowing her chest is being constantly examined, a woman with large tits also understands the extent to which they influence how she’s treated in every aspect of her life. Women and men alike will use her large bra size not just to calculate her breasts, but every aspect of her personality. Men will direct their conversation to a big breasted girl’s chest for God’s sake.”

“Then there’s the physical impact. A larger chest is a hindrance to balance and athleticism. It’s as if a girl with big tits was designed by evolution solely with sex in mind. Like her natural state is some Neanderthal keeping her knocked up in a cave. Those are the only types of things which really keep the wrestling interesting for me now. It’s not about the cat fighting itself, it’s about desire and control.”

“When I’m finally ready to declare a winner, the losing girl drops to her knees to give the victor her reward. It’s given me a lot of insight into just how cruel women can be to one another. The winner just grabs the loser by her hair and sets her pretty, pink tongue to work. And the whole time, she’ll have this look of ultimate satisfaction. This smug air of superiority. As if subjugating some poor girl gets her off. Once the winner climaxes in screaming pleasure, she just pushes the loser away like she’s nothing.”

“Actually managing the tournament, though, turned out to be a pretty big pain in the ass. It was easy to collect all the girls in the backyard, strip off their clothes, and oil them up, of course. But deciding which girls to pair off was tougher. I thought I figured out a solution when I remembered the chubby little computer programmer I’d decided to help after noticing her big ass when she reached to pick something off the bottom row in a grocery store. Mary agreed to create a scheduling algorithm taking into account height, weight and past performance.”

“It definitely worked fine until I realized she seemed to be winning all of her matches. Turned out Mary set up the program to always assign her the weakest girls. When I confronted her about it, she didn’t even have the good sense to be embarrassed. She hit me with this ridiculous sob story about needing to keep multiple pairs of panties at work because she was always soaking through them. And how she barely had any social life left since all she ever did anymore was fantasize about me fucking her. How nearly every night ended the same, with her rolling around naked on her bed, big tits jiggling, trying to think of a plan to make the horniness stop.”

“When Mary dropped to her hands and knees, thick thighs spread open invitingly, promising to make any desire I had come true if I’d only put her brain back how it was before, I’d heard enough. What choice did I have but to ban her from future tournaments? Now Mary watches them with me, sitting naked on my lap, feeding me grapes. I’m a trusting person by nature, but who knows what mischief she could get up to if I let her out from under my thumb?”

“Since the action usually gets me charged up, before too long my erection starts poking her soft, round behind. I make sure to only allow her to suck my dick or take it up the ass so she doesn’t enjoy it too much. It was the little bitch’s orgasms that got her in trouble in the first place, after all. Nothing’s worse than seeing bad behavior rewarded. I may have miscalculated anyway. At first, Mary moaned about her anal virginity, and how horrible it felt to have a cock shoved in all the way. Even though her asshole still feels tight to me, however, lately I’ve noticed she seems to be enjoying it more than she lets on. I should probably put those big droopy tits of hers to use, and start fucking her between them instead.”

“Ironically, spending so many hours with Mary caused me to notice Kelly for the first time in months. One day I was teaching Mary about the value of fair play by tweaking her nipples, when she let out a loud yip. Apparently my mind had drifted, and I twisted too hard. I looked up to admonish her, and explain that she only had her own greed to blame for such treatment, when I saw Kelly out of the corner of my eye.”

“It certainly wasn’t her wrestling skills that drew my attention. As happened in every match she’d fought, Kelly was losing. Badly. It wasn’t that Kelly didn’t want an orgasm. I could tell how aroused and needy she was from one look. The problem, however, was that poor Kelly didn’t have the necessary skills to be a good cat fighter. She wasn’t a particularly strong or athletic girl. Her too big tits, hanging unnaturally high, also seemed to hinder her. Kelly’s opponent always seemed to have an easy time overpowering her physically. That wasn’t, though, her biggest weakness.”

“Some people just aren’t fighters by nature. Maybe they tell themselves they are, but the truth is they just don’t have much, if any, ambition for control. Kelly happens to be that type of person. I didn’t make any changes to her mind to cause it. Being turned desperately horny brought that submissiveness to the forefront, but it didn’t create anything. It wasn’t the large fake breasts, the platinum blonde pigtails or the slutty body piercings either. Inside Kelly Thomas, from before I’d even known her, was a girl who enjoyed being tamed. And while that’s a great quality in a docile, little, harem plaything, it makes for a lousy oil wrestler.”

“That explains why the other girl had a firm grip on Kelly’s dyed blonde hair with one hand, while she used the other to spank her. Must have been going on for a while too, because Kelly was wailing. It wasn’t her moaning, splitting the difference between sexy and desperate, however, that drew my attention. It was the look in those deep, brown eyes. The all-consuming sexual desire was still there, but so was something else. I didn’t even need to read her mind to know exactly what Kelly was thinking.”

“As the smacks on her ass echoed out, Kelly remembered that it didn’t always used to be this way. And even as horny and desperate as she was, there was still that sweet, kind of nerdy girl inside her. The Kelly that I used to pine for before everything changed.”

“All the old feelings came rushing back, and I had the briefest moment of regret. Wondering if I’d made a horrible mistake with Kelly. And not just her, but everyone I’d encountered. Maybe I’d been using my powers with the wrong motivation all along. That instead of helping Kelly, and these other women, I was actually hurting them. Turning them into playthings for no other reason than my perverse desires.”

“It sounds crazy, I know. But even after the sensation passed, I decided I had to make absolutely sure. If Kelly, and any girl I’ve met like her, didn’t enjoy being treated like a piece of meat, there was only one way to find out. I went back into her mind, leaving her with some new instructions, then I booked my plane ticket here and left the country.”

“I’ll admit a lot of my thoughts and focus stayed back in the States. I’m just so curious how Kelly’s latest surgery worked out. By the time I’m home, she should be recovered and up to a double D-cup. It should really make a great contrast with her new lower back tattoo: ‘Less Thinking, More Fucking’. If I’ve been wrong this whole time, I’ll know the moment I set eyes on her. After all, superficial appearances are just that, superficial. The real Kelly will still be inside the new body, one way or another. I’m hoping that’s a person of substance, not just some horny, big boobed whore.”

“Anyway, fingers crossed for the former. If she ends up breaking my heart again, I may just have to sell her after all. Still, with all that on my mind, when I saw you coming out of a coffee shop, I knew my relaxation would be cut short. I suppose I should have known that there’s no such thing as a vacation when you’ve devoted your life to improving the world.”

“So that’s my story. Which brings me to the purpose of my visit. Professor, with the greatest respect for you and the rest of the nominating committee, I think I deserve the Nobel Peace Prize. I know, I know, it’s such a terribly gauche thing to say, but I don’t ask selfishly. Obviously I could stay in my little corner of the world, but seeing all the European women who suffer without me made it clear that I need to go global. Just imagine all the good I could do with the extra exposure and fame. For example, I have some theories on changes in the Middle East that could really strip the issues down.”

“So what do you think? Nonsense, Professor. You have nothing to fear. After all, if you don’t mind me saying, you’re pretty cute for an older girl. I’ll admit I was surprised to see you on the street. One look and I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to make you start shedding your clothes. I only worry your husband might be taking advantage of you. But you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I’ve met so many women just like you, and none of them can even imagine life without me anymore.”

“Great, that’s the attitude. You’ll have to get started sucking and fucking immediately if you’re going to bribe and blackmail enough votes. Don’t worry about your libido. You’re going to stay just this horny without ever making it over the edge until your job is done. At that point you can fly to America. Hell, your ancestors were Vikings. I’m sure you’ll catfight like a natural.”