The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tamara was led by a half-naked bimbo in a ridiculous maid’s uniform through the gaudy mansion. She did her best not to show her contempt for the man her editor had worked so hard to get an interview with, keeping her face and body language professionally neutral.

Both the staff and the mansion were everything she would have expected from Derek Holman, notorious smut peddler and rumored blackmailer. She would save her contempt for her article.

The man himself was in a large sitting room with a huge fireplace and expensively-tacky décor. He was in his late 50s and surrounded by half a dozen women at least half his age, fawning over him in their expensively-tacky underwear.

“Ah, Ms. Whitaker!” he said, standing up from his velvet-upholstered chair. “So good of you to come!”

His undressed entourage giggled at this and he made a shooing motion with his hand without changing expression or looking away from Tamara. They filed out of the room in elaborate and impractical footwear.

The pornographer extended his hand to her. Masking her reluctance, she took it, half expecting it to feel as slimy as his grin.

It was not. His hand was large, cool and dry. On contact, Tamara felt a little jolt, like a discharge of static electricity, but without the pain. She jumped slightly and stared at their clasped hands. What was she about to say?

“You know, Ms. Whitaker, I tend to avoid speaking with the press,” he told her. “But your editor is an old friend and he assures me you are a consummate professional. Having read some of your work, I can’t help but agree!”

“Oh, um, well, thank you!” Tamara replied. “That’s very kind.”

Ralph hadn’t told her that! He had told her that he had to ‘pull some strings’ to get her the interview! Why wouldn’t he have told her they were ‘old friends’? And if they weren’t, why would Holman make up such a story?

And why were they still shaking hands? She stared at her slender hand engulfed by his huge one, gently, rhythmically moving up and down, up and down.

She had completely lost her train of thought somehow. The fire made the room awfully warm. He continued to shake her hand.

“May I offer you something to drink, Tamara?” He asked. “You don’t mind if I call you Tamara, do you?”

“What? Oh, no,” she said. “I don’t mind. Um, nothing to drink, thank you. I need to keep a clear head.”

Yes, she did need to keep a clear head. Only problem was she didn’t seem to have one to keep. Should she really still be shaking his hand? She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t at all uncomfortable. But it seemed odd somehow.

Holman chuckled.

“Yes, yes!” he said. “Of course you do! A consummate professional, just as Ralph said you were! Very well, then. You can go stand in the corner for now, Fifi. Tammy and I are going to get to know one another. You don’t mind if I call you Tammy, do you?”

Tammy blinked. The maid’s name was Fifi? And she was being sent to the corner? There was something wrong with that, wasn’t there?

Their hands moved up and down.

“What?” she asked. There had been a question.

“I was making sure that you don’t mind if I call you Tammy,” he told her. “I wouldn’t want to be presumptuous, now would I Tammy.”

“Oh, well, yes. That would be fine. Tammy would be fine,” said Tammy.

It was her name, after all. What else would he call her?

“Oh good!” he replied. “I hate it when women insist on formality! I mean, just because you’re professional, doesn’t mean you can’t be friendly, right Tammy?”

“Oh no!” said Tammy. “Of course not! I want to be friendly!”

He really did have a charming smile. Very friendly. Just like Tammy wanted to be.

“Of course you do!” he agreed. “Why not enjoy yourself! And help others to enjoy themselves as well! Everything goes so much smoother when everyone is friendly! Playful, even! There’s no reason not to mix business with pleasure! Don’t you agree?”

Tammy giggled. She was feeling playful. She had completely forgotten what she was supposed to be doing, but it didn’t matter.

“Of course!” she agreed.

The rhythmic shaking of her hand seemed as natural as her heart beat now, and she gave it as much thought.

“Marvelous!” said Holman. “This interview will go so much better if we both relax and trust one another.”

“Oh yeah!’’ she exclaimed.”I’m supposta interview you! <giggle> I almost forgot!”

Holman chuckled.

“Nothing to worry about, Tamicakes!’’ he assured her. “You don’t mind if I call you Tamicakes, do you? It seems like the perfect nick name for a friendly, playful airhead like you. You don’t mind, do you Tamicakes?”

Tamicakes giggled. Of course she didn’t mind.

“Oh good then,” said Holman “Well, now that we’re friends, let’s do this interview.”

“O.K.!” exclaimed Tamicakes. “Ummmm...I forgot what I was gonna ask you.”

Holman laughed kindly.

“That’s all right, Tamicakes!” he said. “We can wing it! I suppose we could start off with me telling you all about me. But that’s so cliché. So, since you’re feeling so accommodating, why don’t I tell you all about you instead.’’

Tamicakes giggled. That sounded like a much better idea.

The interview went better than Tamicakes could have ever hoped! She learned things about herself she never would have guessed in a million years!

She hadn’t learned much about Mr. Holman, she was afraid. Well, except that he was hung better than any man she had ever gone down on.

Tamicakes giggled at the memory. She was such a slut!

Afterwards, Mr. Holman had generously offered to let Fifi introduce her to the other girls. Having just learned she was bisexual, it came at an opportune moment.

As it turned out, all the women in Mr. Holman’s employ were bisexual too, and as into group sex as Tamicakes herself! The orgy went on for two hours.

It came to an end when Mr. Holman showed up. All the girls begged him to join in, Tamicakes especially, but he told them that he had someone he wanted Tamicakes to meet.

Fifi helped her dress in a scanty purple teddy that emphasized her tits and ass as she recently had learned she preferred. She then matched it with a pair of purple-sequined sandals with six inch heels.

Fifi helped Tamicakes apply her makeup in a way that said ‘I’ll go down on anyone who asks!’ As Mr. Holman had told her, she wasn’t at all shy about being a slut. It paid to advertise!

Once the sparkly purple polish on her finger and toenails was dry, Mr. Holman returned. He openly admired her body in a way he had told her really turned her on.

“You look lovely, Tamicakes!” he told her. “Absolutely fuckable!”

Tamicakes and Fifi both giggled. Tamicakes hoped he was serious.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to Mr. Daly,” he said, holding out a hand to help her to her feet in the unsteady heels. ‘’You’ll just adore him!”

Tamicakes giggled.

“You know me!” she admitted, wrapping a lock of her hair around her finger. “I adore any man with a working cock!”

Mr. Holman chuckled.

“You’re a slut, Tamicakes!” he said. “I like that about you!’’

Tamicakes giggled.

Mr. Holman grabbed a hold of her bare right flank, which they both knew made her horny, and guided her out of the dressing room. She leaned her head on his shoulder. She just loved older men. He had told her so.

“But seriously,” said Mr. Holman. “This guy is special. He’s one of my oldest friends. Today is his fiftieth birthday and I’d been wondering what to get him. And then it hit me: what better gift than to introduce him to a nice, easy girl like you, Tamicakes!”

Tamicakes giggled. Being pandered to Mr. Holman’s friend made her feel deliciously tawdry.

The man who waited in the sitting room seemed vaguely familiar. Tamicakes couldn’t be sure. Meeting Mr. Holman in that same room seemed a lifetime ago.

She knew right away she liked him though. The way he gawked at her was a total turn on! Fifi had chosen the perfect outfit for her.

“Tamicakes, this is my good friend Ralph Daly,” said Mr. Holman. “He’s a newspaper editor.”

“Hi Mr. Daly!’’ Tamicakes gushed, walking over to shake his hand. “I’m Tamicakes!”

“Tamicakes is one of the friendliest little nymphoid airheads you’ll ever meet.” Mr. Holman told his friend.

Tamicakes giggled and nodded confirmation.

“And I hear you’re a birthday boy, Mr. Daly!’’ she said, drawing a finger down his chest and stomach to leave it hooked in the top of his fly. She leaned in to give him a playful kiss on the nose.

“Howsabouta birthday fuck?” she offered.

“Uh, well, that would be...That would be down right wonderful!” said. Mr. Daly. “Tamicakes was it?’’

Tamicakes nodded.

“Tamicakes” she confirmed. “Though you can call me anything you want to!”