The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next part is really fuzzy. If it weren’t for Matt here, I wouldn’t have remembered any of it. It was like I—well, Micki, rather—was drugged as well as being smashed. I’ve been drunk one time in my life, and it was nothing anything like this. It was like I was there but not really there. Lord knows, there’s no way in hell I’d get involved in anything like that if not for Micki, I can’t even get myself to use the words to describe it all. Again, if it weren’t for Matt here to remind me...

Anyway, I don’t know how long Micki was out but it couldn’t have been all that long because when she woke up, I could still feel the vibrations of that godawful “music” coming from downstairs. Micki was still wearing that contest outfit, but someone had put the skirt back on her and stuck her hair back up into a bun. Probably Vicky, though she wasn’t anywhere around when Micki woke up on one of the couches. Good thing Matt was there, because the first thing I saw was one of the other contestants on another sofa across the room and without him to calm me down, I’d probably have...well, let’s just say I was positively freaked out by the whole thing.

It was pretty obvious what the “Blue Room” was all about. Since you want me to describe everything in the best possible detail, I’ll have to get pretty rude. Don’t get me wrong, “rude” is okay in private, but I don’t usually go around talking like this. It’s...hard.

Anyway, the woman who was dressed like the Air Force officer was laying down on the couch. She had her top back on, well, mostly on, but really mostly off and...well, you have to excuse me, this is really difficult...she had one of her boobs in her hand and a man dressed in fatigues was...well, he was nibbling. Obviously not well enough, because she was...she was...

Okay, she was pretty much barking at him. Loudly. “Teeth, soldier! I want to feel teeth! Hell, I’ve had four kids and every last one of ‘em bit harder than you!” One of his hands must have been, you know, inside... “Four fingers, soldier! What in blazes are you waiting for, orders from on high?! Get that thumb in there, you wimp!”

Really vulgar. And from a mother of four, no less. God forbid they ever hear about it. But...anyway, the man was taking his orders like the good soldier he evidently was because she eventually stopped yelling so loudly.

“Yeah, just like that, Martin. Fuck yeah! Pinch that clittie, soldier.” She grabbed him by the back of his neck and smashed his face in between her boobs. “Damn, man, much better use of that right hand...yeah...than jerking off while spying on your superiors.” She moved her right hand down to grab at his crotch. “What the fuck made you...ooooh...think any of us would want such a filthy small package anyway?!”

The scene was really warped, no doubt, one of the strangest things I’ve ever witnessed. She was really playing the part to the hilt. Definitely earning her money.

“God, I swear...I’ve had men with fingers bigger than this.” She was panting now, manhandling his manhood with one hand and pressing his face into her chest with the other. For an older woman, she had magnificent biceps. The very thought that she might actually be an officer was starting to make Micki wet.

The slut.

“I bet I wouldn’t even feel this sonofabitch!” she somehow managed to blurt out as he continued to work an entire hand inside her. “Should have...damn...busted you for impersonating a real man instead... Yeah, bite them titties, boy. Harder. Yeah...fuck yeah.”

With his head still working on one of her breasts, the “soldier” took the hand that wasn’t buried wrist-deep in...pussy and yanked down the waistband of his fatigues. She turned her head slightly to look at him. “You call that a cock, boy?! I’ve seen poodles with more dick!”

Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her and in a quick motion brought it up to her face. “Fucking nasty, poodle dick boy,” she growled as she gobbled up three fingers and let out a low moan as he moved on top of her. “What makes you fucking think I’d ever let that inchworm dick near me?” she asked with a half-smile just before he slid another smelly...pussyfinger into her mouth to shut her up.

Removing his hand from her mouth, he grabbed the edge of the couch and pressed into her. “What was that?” she laughed, “Private Poodle Dick. Peeping...Private...Poodle-Dick.” She giggled in time with his thrusts. “Careful, soldier, you might get...lost...in there.”

For his part, “Private Poodle” seemed determined to get his money’s worth. He was really going to town on her now, though you’d never know it by her. “Fuck that cavern, poodle boy,” she sneered as he worked. “Damn, you can’t even reach my clittie with that thing.”

After about two minutes or so, she reached up and started slapping softly at his face with the back of her hand in time with his efforts.

“Fuck...poodle...boy...fuck...that...officer...pussy,” she rolled her eyes and continued to growl at him, her slaps growing ever stronger. “Fucking...pussy boy...can’t even...reach the...officer clittie...”

Matt must have figured that I didn’t need a baby-sitter anymore, because he slowly got up from our couch and walked over to this bizarre scene. “Private Poodle” must have caught him out of the corner of his eye because he broke his routine to smile at him. Missus “Officer” seemed oblivious to the whole thing, though she kept up her steady stream of insults...

“C’mon, Private Poodle-Dick...that all you got? Can only cum in...the bushes, soldier? Fucking insult to...the US Air Force...not to...mention real men...everywhere.”

Matt dropped to his knees at her end of the couch. About that time, “Private Poodle” finally had enough of her slapping and grabbed each of her hands with his and held them firm as his thrusts quickened. “Ooooh,” she mocked in a little girlie voice, “little poodle boy finally ready to cum?”

The “soldier” hesitated for a second and Matt whispered something in the “officer’s” ear. Suddenly, she shook her head and went limp for a second or two. “Private Poodle” bent forward a bit and moved her arms above her head where Matt helped him hold them firm against the head of the couch. When her eyes flashed open again, he renewed his thrusts and moved his head close to hers.

From where I was, all I could see was that she moved her head slightly from side to side, as if finally taking in the whole Blue Room thing. But I could definitely hear her. It’s amazing that everyone within two city blocks couldn’t hear her. Like I said before, she certainly earned her money.

“Martin?” She began to buck wildly underneath him. “What the FUCK?!” Get the FUCK off me!” She almost managed to get one hand free, she was struggling so hard. A really mesmerizing stage act, this was. Micki was soaking now and one of her hands actually went down to adjust her thong. Never would have guessed that she gets off on this kind of thing.

The slut.

“Private Poodle” was really working hard now, smiling broadly as his weight managed to thwart the smaller woman’s efforts to dislodge him. Matt leaned over her ear and said something else as she shook her head wildly this way and that. Her legs slowly stopped flailing and tensed up about the same time as the “soldier” slowed his pace to a crawl.

“Oh, God, no,” she moaned as if she really, really, meant it.

Then, with one more thrust, the “soldier” discharged his weapon. Yeah, okay, so Micki thought it was funny. For her part, the “officer” was now moaning so hard it was difficult to tell if she was acting or not. I’ve faked enough orgasms to think I know the difference, but I’m no actress. But the bucking she was doing now didn’t seem to be an act. Fake orgasms usually don’t go on for three minutes, even in pornos. Well, in the two or three I saw way back in my college days, anyway.

I looked down and noticed Micki had slipped a hand inside her open blouse and was massaging a nipple. The whole scene was just a bit too much for her, I suppose, and it wasn’t more than two seconds later that her other hand reached down to...

...and, I was just thinking that it was a good thing none of the people who knew me had managed to sneak in here—other than Matt, of course—but I really was thinking that, which shows what I get for thinking...

...when she bent two fingers at the knuckles and started kneading in earnest, back and forth, one after the other, the wet fabric of the thong sliding beneath...

And suddenly Matt was there whispering in her ear, his hand moving behind her head to tickle the hairs of the back of her neck...

“Why don’t you let me help?” And he forced her head to his, not that the slut needed a whole lot of encouragement at this point. I’ve got to hand it to the guy, whatever else he was, he was one hell of a kisser. Lots and lots of practice, I suppose. Micki tried to keep up with him, but for a slut, she was surprisingly bad at it.

But she made up for it with extra effort, trying everything from using her tongue to cupping him through his pants. Really getting into it, using all those romance novels as source material, no doubt. I’d never had a whole lot of experience at this sort of thing myself, but even I think I could have done better if I were really into that kind of thing.

“You’re a quick learner,” he whispered under his breath on one of the rare seconds that he came up for air. “You’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you Micki?” He stared into her eyes and gently rubbed the bottom of her right earlobe for emphasis...

“I...” she stammered, biting her lower lip and clamping her lids shut tight.

“You want to be a motherfucking cunt slut for me, don’t you, Micki?” he nibbled on her neck, his hand moving to cover hers inside the thong.

“I...want...” She trembled slightly as each word came out. “I...want...” she repeated.

He reached down and wrapped two fingers around the thong and slowly pulled it down... “You love to feel the cool air on your pussy lips, don’t you?”

“I...love...”

“You’re my pussy cunt slut, aren’t you?” He slid a hand around the back of her neck and held it firmly as he whispered in her ear.

“I’m...your...” She stammered, unable to get the words out.

“You love to feel the cool air on your wet pussy lips for me, don’t you?” He ran his fingers up the back of her neck, kneading them gently into her hair...

“I love to...feel...”

“You love to keep your legs apart, your knees open for me, to feel the softness of your skirt rise slowly...” he slid the thong further down her legs even as they slowly parted...

“I...love to keep...” She was panting now as her fingers played...

His hand moved quickly from the thong, which was now spread tightly between her open thighs, to her skirt...grabbed at the hem and slid it up... “You love to show your pussy wetness, don’t you, my Micki pussy cunt slut?”

“I love to...show...ohh...show...my...” He eyes closed tightly as she worked...his words...feeling his words...

Again he whispered in her ear, his hand at the back of her hair now, working his fingers into her bun, slowly inching, crawling, grasping... “You love to play with yourself under the desk, move your pussy lips up and down, right and left, smelly, smelly, so the whole world can know you’re my Micki pussy slut...”

“I love to play...ahhh...with...under...desk...”

“Love to let everyone know what a nasty, Micki pussy slut you are, everyone in the office, everyone in court, everyone on the street...”

“I...everyone...oooooohhhh...”

“Yes, Micki, that’s right, everyone knows what a pussy cunt, show off pussy slut my Micki is...” Suddenly, he yanked her hair back forcefully and she couldn’t help but to open her eyes...

...to see the Blue Room was no longer empty. Donald, filthy Donald. Mr. Hart. His lawyer. Judge Garrity. Adam, the fucking loudmouthed manager. All there. All watching.

I wanted to die.

Matt said something else. Micki shook, bucking wildly on the couch. Couldn’t stop. Didn’t WANT to stop.

The slut.

Filthy pussy slut. There, I said it. Filthy, disgusting pussy cunt slut. Probably ruined my career, the fucking whore.

The fabric of the thong ripped loudly, tearing as her legs spread about as far as they could go, showing her everything to the whole fucking world. Yelling. Screaming, messing up both her hands.

Fucking slut.

Seemed like hours they all stood there and watched her make a fool of herself. Hours. Days, maybe. I dunno. I was trying to close my eyes but I just couldn’t. Watching them all watching her, gasp after gasp, whimper after whimper. Finally, Matt bent over and said something to her and she collapsed back onto the couch, sweating like the fucking cunt pig she was.

And then...just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, there was this loud slapping noise and Micki’s whole face seemed to go from pleasure to pain in less than two seconds...

“How fucking DARE you!”

And Denise was standing there, naked as the day she was born, aiming to take another swing. “Not enough you got to win my fucking contest, now you want my BOYFRIEND too?!!!”

Lucky for Micki, Denise was too drunk to aim straight twice in a row and ended up leaving a fairly deep hand print in the back cushion of the sofa. “You FUCKING slut!” she yelled as Micki sank back into a post-orgasmic stupor on the couch.

Immediately, Matt played the hero and jumped up and grabbed my ex-receptionist around the waist. “Woah!” He moved one hand up around her shoulder and whispered something in her ear, obviously meaning to calm her down.

“No fucking way!” she yelled at something he said, “This bitch owes me!” And she bent down to take another openhanded swipe at Micki’s face. Somehow, Micki found the strength to reach up and intercept her arm at the wrist.

“Oh, no fucking way!” Denise spat out the words, and she reached her other hand around and grabbed Micki’s hair by what was left of her bun. “You fucking OWE me!” And her whole body shook.

Again, Matt grabbed her by the waist and she fell in a drunken wobble to one knee, two feet from the couch. “She fucking owes me,” she said again, softly as she caught her breath. Looked up into his eyes and pointed to Micki. “She owes me, baby.”

He cradled her in his arms, wiped away the hair from her face and once again nibbled on her ear, whispering something in a slow soft cadence. Her eyes closed slowly, the red in her face softened to pink. She breathed deep, swallowing air heavy once or twice and then fell to both knees.

Continuing to massage the lower lobe of her left ear with his tongue as he spoke, Matt closed his eyes and brought a finger up to caress the back of her neck. Then he bit her ear. An exclamation point.

Denise’s eyes suddenly shot open and she smiled. Brought a finger up to her face to wipe away the wetness. Looked up at Micki, who was still struggling to control her breathing after the rush of her orgasm. “You owe me.”

Matt moved over to the couch and sat down beside Micki and put a large hand on her knee. “I’m sure she can find some way to make it up to you, baby.” The words seemed more a suggestion than a soothing comment, even to me. He slowly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her gently off of the couch. Bending down with her as he slid her off the sofa, he cupped one hand around her face and drew her to him. “You know you owe her, don’t you Micki?”

“...owe her...” Micki repeated, her mind must’ve still been reeling from that awful display of self-abuse. But, then, again...

“Because you’re just SUCH a slut, aren’t you Micki?” He slid one arm underneath her as he lifted her to both knees...

“Damn straight,” Denise hissed as she plopped herself down on the couch and slowly spread her legs. “And she fucking OWES me!”

Matt was down with Micki now, whispering with that acidic tongue. Melting, mewing, lapping at her mind. Not that she had much of a mind to begin with. “She’s right, you know, Micki...you know she’s right. You owe her.”

“I...” Micki stammered, swallowing hard to fight to get the words out. But the slut was fucking enjoying all of this. I know she was. I don’t even know why she pretended to resist. “I’m...sorry.” She managed to raise her eyes to meet those of the drunken redhead on the couch.

My ex-receptionist scowled in answer and brought both hands down between her legs, her feet lifting slightly off the carpet as her thighs spread even wider. “Prove it,” she hissed.”

And as Matt led her by her shoulders to the “hole” in front of her, a half dozen “poles” lined up in back of her...

“Okay, Miss Thurmond, I don’t think you need to go on any further.” The judge adjusted himself in his chair. “That’s about as much of this particular deposition as I can...” he hesitated as he reached for a box of tissues on the corner of his desk with one hand, “...take at the moment.”

Damn, straight, Michelle thought. You were there and saw the whole sordid affair, you pervert. Her whole body shook in spite of herself. Put a hand up to make sure her bun was secure on top of her head. Just wearing this particular outfit made her incredibly...uncomfortable. A finger ran up to stop her glasses from sliding off her nose

.

Judge Garrity finished whatever ungodly thing he was doing with the tissue and peered across his private chambers at her. “You really expect this court to believe that you had absolutely nothing to do with what went on in the “Blue Room” at that nightclub?”

“That is correct, Your Honor.” She shuddered again. She bent towards Matt ever so slightly. Any crutch in a storm. Or something.

“Despite the overwhelming...” the judge breathed deeply and closed his eyes, as if visualizing something extremely familiar, “videotaped evidence to the contrary.”

“Absolutely, Your Honor. That...that WOMAN on that tape is NOT me.” She tugged on the hem of her skirt, trying desperately to draw it down below her knees.

“No, Miss Thurmond, that woman WAS you. She’s even wearing the exact same outfit you have on now.”

“But...but...” She turned to Matt. “That was...Micki,” she whimpered. “That was Micki.”

The judge stood up behind his desk and pointed a gavel directly at her. “Miss Thurmond, that was YOU.” He turned to the court reporter, the mousy redhead sitting beside him. “Denise, please read back the pertinent lines?”

“With pleasure Your Judgeship, Sir,” she giggled, as she turned a knob and carefully scanned the paper as it spun off the machine. “Filthy pussy slut. There, I said it. Filthy, disgusting pussy cunt slut. Probably ruined my career, the fucking whore.” With every naughty word, her smile got ever whiter, her lipstick redder.

“But...but...” Miss Thurmond was pleading with both of them now, Matt and the judge, her eyes darting from one to the other, then to the floor. Her hands were desperately trying to correct her glasses, her bun and her skirt all at the same time. “I have a PHD from Harvard. I...”

“Yes, yes, well then, Miss Thurmond...Michelle.” The judge shook his gavel for emphasis. “That may well be, but that’s just a piece of paper. I’m sure lots of Harvard grads have been caught fucking opposing barristers in the back rooms of strip clubs...”

“Not to mention,” her ‘ex-receptionist’ chirped in from the side, “eating pussy.” “Yuuuummm...”

Michelle swiveled her head to look at the other woman. “Now, I don’t need any help from YOU, you little whore...”

“Takes one to know one.” Denise stuck out her tongue.

The judge smiled wide and banged his gavel on the desk. “I’ll have order in my court, ladies! Order!” He pointed his gavel at Michelle. “Now, Miss Thurmond, I have it on good authority that you and some of the other lady lawyers have a...” he hesitated for a moment as he adjusted himself behind his desk, “small problem with the way I conduct my court.”

Michelle turned to take an awkward glance at Matt, then stood up straight and scowled. “Well, Your Honor, sir, it’s plain to God and everyone from here to Kansas that you’re always back there playing with your...disgusting junk while we’re all down here trying to do the work of the people of the good state of...”

“Well, I NEVER!” He banged the gavel down hard and walked out from behind his desk, his own natural wood harder than the piece he held in his hand, so hard his robes parted around it like the Red Sea around the staff of Moses. Matt put a hand to his forehead and muttered a dismissive ‘oh, boy’ under his breath, as the judge walked slowly towards Michelle, both his gavels swinging this way and that.

“You expect ME, a DECENT, constitution-respecting man of the robes of JUSTICE to be able to keep myself PROPER when I have, in my court, a brazen HUSSY such as you who can give the devil’s deposition, as thoroughly CORRUPT a story as I have EVER had the displeasure to hear AND had I not witnessed it in all its Sodom and Gomorrah glory with mine VERY OWN eyes, I would call you a whorish liar just TRYIN’ to see how FILTHY you could make my courtroom!”

As almost an afterthought, he happened to look down.

“And, now, you’ve got old Horatio all stickin’ out and slimy.”

Matt closed the fingers of his hand around his face and tried extremely hard not to laugh. Five thousand bucks is five thousand bucks. He felt a familiar tingle in his ear and breath on his neck.

“Gawd, this is SO fucking hot,” Denise whispered. “I’m soooo sorry I got all mad atcha at the club...” He felt a hand go down to his zipper.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he chuckled and grabbed her ass with his other hand. “I voted for ya.”

He looked down and watched as she melted into a puddle at his feet. A puddle with red hair and trusting eyes that looked up at him. A puddle with a hand and mouth that could work a fly. “Really?!!”

He rolled his eyes and looked back at the judge, who was slowly walking towards her ex-boss. “Naw,” he shrugged, “but you can give me the blow job anyway.”

“Awwww, geeez Matt...” she breathed and sucked in hard before she took him in. “You’re the best.”

He closed his eyes. “You got that right, babe.”

“Get that THING away from me!” Michelle was backing away from judge Garrity as he stroked his gavel and aimed in her direction. “I’ll have your robes for this!”

“You want ‘em, you fucking little cock tease,” he said, ripping off the robes as he quickened his pace towards her, “you can have ‘em!” He swung the robes around like a whip and let them fly over her head as she retreated.

“I’ll scream!” she said as she ducked, trying hard not to look at his bloated body, pasty white and obviously formed primarily by thirty years worth of Budweisers after court.

He shrugged and raised one palm upwards toward the office window and the moonlight beyond. “It’s fucking three o’clock in the morning, toots, do your best.”

Michelle turned to the window and stared at it as if...

“Oh, Micki, for Christ’s sake, don’t be such a slut.” Matt folded his hands behind his head and turned his attention back to the redhead at his feet.

...as if... Boy, was she tired. She slumped to her knees on the cool wood floor. “Uh...what a night.”

“Tell me about it, Judge Garrity sighed as he hovered above her and looked down as Horatio deflated. “Two too many.”

“This ain’t the ‘blue room’ no more.” Micki’s hands shot inside her jacket, felt inside her womanly purse. Both sides of it. “Where’s my fucking money?!”

Garrity laughed. “Boy, I guess you did have one too many, darlin.’ You don’t remember stopping by the ATM on the way over here?”

“Uh...no,” she adjusted herself on the floor. Glanced at the clock on the wall. Noticed Matt. And, Denise, who just happened to start choking on Matt at that particular moment. “WOO HOO, you GO girl!!”

There was an awkward moment of silence when Denise slowly turned her head towards Micki, all the while never letting her quarry escape her mouth. Then she raised her eyes up and Matt mouthed some soundless words. And the silence was shattered by an audible “pop” as he pulled back from her.

Micki doubled over in fits of laughter. “Girl got herself some SKILZ!”

Matt chuckled and pointed to the judge, who was still standing in front of Micki. “She’s not the only one, girlfriend.” He blew her a kiss. “How ‘bout a race?”

Denise closed one eye and peered over at Micki. “A bicycle against a Vette?”

Micki shot the middle finger across the room and shuffled over to the judge. “Fuck you,” she managed to make it even sound a little bit threatening before she stuck out her tongue and wrapped it around the underside of Sir Horatio.

“Whoaaahhhh...” Garrity somehow managed to lock his knees to stop from buckling as he felt her nails dig slightly into his left butt cheek. He turned his head towards Matt. “How the fuck..?”

“Ancient Chinese secret,” he replied. He swore he could feel the redhead’s tonsils. “You think THIS is hot, you ought to feel the inside of MY head. Especially the times when I let Micki meet Michelle? So much raw emotion...nothing like it in this world OR the next.”

“Damn! I’d love to see this fucking tightwat beg for it. Makes my life miserable on a daily basis, this one.”

“Enjoy it while you can. It’s the only time I can’t control it. Can’t ever tell what they’re gonna do. She could black out like she did at the club or she might bite your pecker off. No telling. That’s what makes the moment so...”

The surreal ness of it all was not lost on the judge. He had a passing thought that if someone might come by and see them from the waist up, they might see two men at a communal urinal discussing the weather...

“Damn.”

“Exactly.”

“Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it now.”

“I...”

“How much?”

“I really don’t think...”

Damn it, how much? It’s not the same. Yeah, I can see her, but SHE can’t see her, if you know what I mean. It’s not the same.”

“Look, judge, I told you that I can’t be responsible...”

“I want her to SEE my fucking jizz on her face, all right. It’s worth more than the orgasm.”

“Okay, if you insist. Two thousand more. Just let me know when you get close...”

“Not a problem. Been waiting for this...”

He felt a finger slowly work its way into his ass to tickle his prostate. “Geez, what a fucking slut.”