The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The adult jokes were too much, even for him. It was one thing for him to make his living with a mind-bending voice and a presence that could make a butch lesbian squeeze her thighs together at his pitch of the day. It was something else that he had been Northern State’s one-armed hockey goon who used boorish insults to both control and destroy, his mouth doing what his body no longer could. And he certainly had never minded getting into the pants of almost every blonde who dared wear the wrong colors to a Northern State game (or making sure that they were no longer wearing those colors). But that was part of his history, and a part that he wasn’t as proud of as he had once been.

This was who he was now: a rainmaker, a controller without true direction, a man with a gift hopping a ride on the freight car of the gravy train. Given a used car, he could sell it; given a used condom, he could get even more for it. He wasn’t alone. He could see what was going on. The trade show circuit was rife with mindless models who had once been customers and ended up buying the biggest bill of goods that could ever be sold. Everyone cared about their pitches, and their money, but when the lights went down and the drayage men came out, it was all the same thing.

It had only taken him a month to get it. It was Northern State hockey all over again, except with fewer sticks, more dicks, and a higher chance of getting stabbed in the back. He knew he should be enjoying himself, but the dark side of that control—the one that made his left arm pulsate in agony along the long straight scar, the one that whispered that he was a waste and a burden, the one that had left a trail of bodies all through the prairie—reminded him of his bounds.

That didn’t mean that the collection of girls they lured with notes, bonuses, and special offers didn’t make him drool. It didn’t help that his speech required him to trigger himself a good forty times a day. He was hotter than hell and increasingly grateful to the inventor of pants with pleated fronts. He watched from the booth and said nothing as the crowds swirled.

“Roo-KAY! Did someone tell him How Great Thou Art? Oh, man. Look, roo-KAY, we know you can make a pitch, but to survive here, you gotta know how to make a bitch,” the tall black man with the shaved head said with a smile, gesturing out at the women circling through the building, both the ones in the outrageous branded outfits who were the “after” and the ones in jeans and t-shirts who were the “before”.

Avery smiled politely and continued to ignore his colleagues, looking over at the beauty products booth, where three girls sat in makeup chairs, legs spread as they cooled off from a wild romp. Their glassy eyes made them look plastic even before the sales reps got to work dolling them up. One of those sales reps stopped what she was doing and mocked, “Oh, is hockey boy playing with a broken stick? Or should I drop down and give him two minutes for hooking?”

Avery bit the inside of his lip before shooting back at them. “Please, Vinny, I out-sold you on my first day and can triple you now. Carole, if I wanted to buy, sell, or otherwise test drive a used ride, I’d be at a dealership.”

“Oooh, aren’t you feisty? Well, you are a rainmaker. But really, pick a chick and cook her goose. I’m married and I do it... isn’t that right, Kelly, dear?” Carole said to the woman clinging to her in a blue, branded skirt that barely covered her. Carole twitched the finger that held her bright sapphire ring, and Kelly fell to the floor twitching in the throes of orgasm.

“Nice demo, Carole. Fine, but I do it my way,” Avery said.

“Oh, no you don’t! Rainmaker takes a girl, and she has to drive everyone’s sales,” Vinny said, his tone serious.

“Deal. Trust me on that,” Avery said with a smirk, casting a predatory eye at the jeans and shirts that separated the prey from the models. Many were there for the pitches and got lured back by the hypnotic voices, presences, and tricks of the expert rainmakers. But there were more than a few awake, looking out for friends, though their sights were more likely set on their friends not losing any more money to gadgets, not their will, their virginity, or their minds. His eye fell on a bespectacled girl who appeared to be getting her brain bleached for the crowd. He could hear her giggling from halfway across the room and shook his head. Four years of being entertainment for Northern State athletes at the drop of the word “great” was enough for him to be repulsed by the scene.

On the other hand, the heat of the day had him wanting a little something to enjoy. A young blonde in curve-hugging jeans and a turquoise and silver tank top caught his eye, and he watched her walk a few strides before speaking loud and clear. “Five-eight in heels, five-five in real life—and the best part is that as long as you’re here, none of us salesmen can be called the biggest ass in the room!”

She turned on the heel of her high black boot with fire in her green eyes. “Ha, ha, ha. Just because I have one doesn’t mean I am one, unlike someone I know,” she said with a snicker and a sassy grin that only made Avery harder. He always did love girls who thought they were in control—they so often lost control in a heartbeat, and they were the most fun to play with afterward. He licked his lips and got ready to dazzle her with his voice. He’d lost count of the girls he’d gotten that way, though it had to be well into the hundreds, and this one would be no different—except the consequences, when he almost blinked and got the girl’s finely manicured fingers clawing his face. He never let on that she’d surprised him.

She was the perfect prize to prove his worth on the circuit. He was done with cults and permanent thralls trailing along behind like a bad smell. But that didn’t mean he didn’t still need a little fun. Without hesitating, he caught her wrist in his right hand, stroking it gently as he looked her in the eye and said, “That’s where you’re wrong, miss. Those jeans make you an ass... a tasty ass... a ripe ass... a juicy ass... that needs a good licking. So what did you want me to scream?”

Each drawn out S hissed into the woman’s brain and bit it with a little bit of venom, drawing her in, stirring the same desire in her that Avery felt. Avery’s good looks were as good as a pocket watch in this setting, and the woman put her hands on her hips to show off her ass, even as she bared teeth at Avery. “Courtney. As if,” she growled, trying to walk away. But her hips rolled and her ass flexed with every tiny step, and Avery knew he had her hooked.

“As if. As if you were booty-calling me, saying ‘fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Avery’... as if you were calling out ‘Avery, Courtney needs to be fucked...” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, just loud enough for her to start echoing him, just loud enough for her to entice him more with her ass as she bent over to pull up the top of her boot and show just how curvaceous she was. He came closer, leaning in as if to help her adjust something, purring, “Oh, yeah. As if Courtney needs her dirtiest fantasies fulfilled. As if Courtney wants to be my horny little cheer—”

Courtney’s tongue let Avery know that she’d achieved sufficient meltdown for the time being; if that hadn’t been enough, the way she pressed against him like she was trying to get through his shirt would have been a hint. He murmured sweet nothings in her ear to calm her down enough that they could both walk, then took her arm like a gentleman and led her to his rental car.

“Hey, rookie! Don’t forget the latex!” Carole squawked at Avery as he passed her.

He glanced at the rubber catsuit of Emma’s Orange Peel Kitchen Cleaner and rolled his eyes, pulling Courtney along to the parking lot and pouring her into the backseat. She stared up at him with hazy eyes and parted lips, and part of him wanted to just take her right then and there, sweet-talk her into opening that mouth a little wider and giving him a blowjob like a high school kid. But it was a passing thought, nothing more. He squatted down and asked, “Tell me, Courtney, what’s your deepest, darkest sexual secret? What’s the one thing you want a man to do to you that you’d never thought you’d tell anyone? What gets you soaking wet like nothing else?”

She squirmed and moaned. “I want a man to buy me, to demean me, to take me like a whore off the street and fuck me until I have to scream,” she sighed between moans, running a finger along the inseam of her jeans and pressing hard as she described the idea. The seam was noticeably darker than the rest of her jeans.

He blinked, not having expected that from her, though she wasn’t the first. He had more women’s clothing in his suitcase than men’s clothing, knowing what he would be doing, but having worked the circuit for a month, he understood what else he had to do. He wasn’t going to leave behind a trail of mindless dolls like some of the others did, or bring along an increasingly larger selection of display pieces like Carole liked to do. The only terms he was going to do this under were his—and the girl’s. It was for their own protection.

He took out some fishnets, a pair of daisy dukes that barely fit her magnificent ass, and a shirt that most people would have considered a bra, put them on the seat, and started whispering in her ear, writing the story that she would act out, making it sink into her brain as her temporary reality. She began to writhe on the seat, then tore her clothes off and changed into the new outfit he gave her, tightening the straps of the top and rolling up even more of the shorts until they looked like denim panties. He admired the way the fishnets crisscrossed along her long legs, and how her black boots somehow went with the outfit, as she got out of the car and started strutting along the rows of the parking lot like a whore working her beat.

Avery realized that if he didn’t move on ahead with his part of the fantasy, he might have to wait in line. He came around the parking lot and pulled up alongside her, lowering his glasses to get a good long look at her. “What’s your rate?” he asked, making his voice harsh and distant.

“Four hundred for the night,” Courtney replied, her tone just the right mix of seductive and jaded for the role. It was obvious to him that she’d watched a lot of this fetish, and that made it easier for him to get into his role.

“Four hundred? Did you plate your cunt with gold? Twenty bucks,” he snarled.

“Twenty bucks isn’t enough to open my legs. Three-fifty.”

“For three-fifty, I can get three girls in a bar. Seventy-five, two rounds.”

Courtney stared at him, her expression so unimpressed he half-expected to see an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth. “Maybe you’re new at this, honey, but that’s not even close to going rate. Three hundred.”

Avery pretended to consider. “Two hundred. I have a hotel room.”

“Two-fifty, and I’m yours all night,” Courtney said, sashaying across the front of the car and lying down on the hood. Her legs framed her ass perfectly, whether by chance or by design. She watched him through the windshield, her gaze predatory as she remained in the grip of her fantasy.

“Deal. Get on in,” Avery commanded, and she climbed into the front seat with a giggle. He drove to the hotel, taking a couple of back roads and distracting her with murmured triggers for later in the night.

The desk man looked at them askance when they came in, but when his eyes managed to make it to Courtney’s face, he snickered. “The McGillis girl? I’ll have the double-thick condoms delivered to your door, sir,” he said.

“Mmmm, don’t worry about those, big boy. I’m on the pill,” Courtney cooed.

It was tempting, but Avery found a way around it and still stayed in character as he pulled her down the hall. “I’m not picking up any unwanted souvenirs from that well-used pussy of yours,” he snapped.

Courtney stuck her tongue out at him, but as soon as the door was closed, she was putting it to more professional use—in his mouth, then against his neck, her deft hands running all over him as she ground her hips against him, worked his pants and briefs off, and slowly coaxed his cock erect. She dropped to her knees and braced him against the wall, her tongue sliding along his shaft and darting out against the head. Inch by inch, she took him in, sucking in a slow and steady rhythm that had him shooting his first load before he realized he was ready. She swallowed with no hesitation, then looked up at him with eyes darkened by arousal.

He knew what she wanted him to say, but the words stuck in his throat for a moment before he remembered that this was her fantasy, and only when she was completely fulfilled could he take his turn shaping her. He twisted his face into a sneer and said, “Not bad for a cheap whore. But can you do it again?”

She swayed like a snake as her thighs squeezed together at his words. “Watch me,” she purred, and her head dipped again as she worked her mouth along his cock—more slowly this time, more seductively, working up and down with her lips and tongue, while her hands ran along his ass, then stroked his balls. It would take a while for him to reload, but she was patient and steady and very talented at what she did. Everything she did got him a little bit harder, but what got him to climax was the sight of her arousal as she lost herself in the roleplay.

His knees shook when she was done, but this part of the night had only begun. He yanked her off her feet and shoved her onto the bed. “Your mouth’s pretty good. What about that pussy of yours?”

“I make it dance better than anyone in Ohio,” she answered, sitting up on the bed so that she could remove the boots, stockings, and shorts. She hadn’t bothered putting her panties back on. The outer part of the denim was damp, but he ignored it, picking the shorts up and tossing them to the side as he pretended to study Courtney’s glistening slit.

“Looks like a fucking desert,” he lied. “If you think I’m putting my dick in there, think again. You’re so dry I’d be afraid you’d rub holes in the condom.”

She squirmed on the bed. “Well, lover, I can think of a couple of ways to fix that,” she suggested in her best seductive tone, licking her fingers and running them along her swollen lips.

“Please,” he said dismissively, grabbing her wrist and bending her arm back. “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” With that, he spread her legs a little wider, made sure she was positioned properly at the edge of the bed, and knelt with her feet framing his head. There were some things a Northern State education was good for, after all, even if he’d only had a year and a half with his chosen partner before being exiled to the Dawghouse. He knew how good his tongue was, and soon Courtney knew too, moaning and thrashing as he suckled her clit. In record time, she seized in the throes of orgasm, incoherent noises bubbling up from her throat.

“Much better,” he pronounced. “Now, where’s that condom?”

Courtney produced one of the little packets from her cleavage; Avery did the math and realized that she had palmed it off the nightstand, but he appreciated the effect. “Put it on me, slut. Isn’t that part of the service?”

She mewed and tore open the package with more delicacy than he had expected with those fingernails. She twisted herself around on the bed to help him up, but he avoided her and climbed on. The last thing either of them needed was for him to start rolling around in agony if she pulled too hard on his left arm. As she unrolled the condom with one hand, she pushed him back against the sheets with the other, starting to unbutton his shirt and caress his chest.

He was up for the third round before he knew it, helped by her slim fingers sliding the condom onto his cock and pulling it tight. “Bit of a tight fit, handsome, but we’ll make do,” she said admiringly, looking him over one more time before she tried to roll over and get ready for him to mount her.

“Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the so-called expert—get on top and show me what you can do with that cunt of yours you’re so proud of,” he said, pulling her close.

Her eyes went heavy at the dismissive “cunt”. He could see her pulse jumping in the sweat-beaded hollow of her throat, feel her breathing quicken against him. A slow, seductive smile pulled up one corner of her mouth. She adjusted herself slightly, then began to grind down on him, taking him in little by little until he was balls-deep in her. She was slick and tight around his cock, and she squeezed in a rhythm that sent shivers down his spine to draw him in closer. He hardly had room to work his hand between them and his fingers up into her slit, but there was just enough space for him to work circles around her clit and over her mound.

She leaned in a little too close, and he surprised her with a kiss on each of her breasts, exposed in the low-cut top she wore. As she groaned her satisfaction, he left off fingering her and shifted his weight so that he could reach into the top and stroke her nipples in turn, feeling how they hardened and warmed under his touch. She tried to reach around and remove the top, but he stopped her. “They’re easier to find this way, unless you were planning on hitting me in the face with them,” he explained. She laughed, and the absolute abandon on her face and in her voice was almost as arousing as the thrust of her hips and the way she held him tight against her and in her.

It wasn’t quite a simultaneous orgasm—she came a few thrusts before he did, the tightness of her pussy bringing him over the edge as she came. When the white lights had cleared behind Avery’s eyes and he was aware of his surroundings again, he met Courtney’s steady gaze and anticipatory smile. “All right, you were worth it,” he gasped, fumbling around on the nightstand until he came up with his wallet and a stack of twenties that he stuffed into her cleavage.

She took it out and counted it, still playing the role. “Do I get a tip?” she asked.

For the first time since he had set foot on Northern State’s campus, he was dead serious when he spoke. “Don’t trust traveling salesmen,” he replied. As suggestible was she was, he knew that truth would sink into her mind and protect her from any of his cohorts.

She shrugged and rolled off him, asleep before she hit the bed on her side. Avery lay back, trying to catch his breath and take a few minutes to recover. As thrilling as her fantasy had been for him—and as explosively fulfilling as it had been for her—her turn was done, and it was his turn to drive their mutual roleplay. He started to whisper in her ear, giving them both a half hour to rest before she would obey his commands, then settling back to watch the show.

Thirty minutes later, Courtney began to awaken, but her eyes were still unfocused as they opened. She giggled, covering her mouth and looking around as if she wanted to make sure no one had heard it—then she giggled again, and again, until she couldn’t stop, until she was grinning from ear to ear with no idea why and no interest in finding out, until her eyes were empty and glassy. Her arms shot up, hands clutching imaginary pom-poms, and she tossed her long hair from side to side. Leaping out of bed, she skipped into the bathroom, where Avery had laid out a very specific outfit for her.

To his surprise, she cartwheeled back out—some days it was better to be lucky than good, and it looked like he’d picked a former cheerleader to live out his fantasy. The blue skirt and red top weren’t the right shades for Northern State, but they were close enough to stir both memories and his cock. They went well with her blonde hair and even the shade of red on her nails.

“Gimme an F!” she shouted, raising her arms and her imaginary pom-poms again.

“Happy to oblige,” Avery replied with a smirk, and he swept her onto the bed and flipped up the short skirt to reveal her slit, so wet that she was dripping. This time, he got on top, let her roll the condom on, and pounded her relentlessly into the mattress, savoring the feel of her neck against his mouth, of her nails leaving scratches along his back, of her legs running against his. She held him tight and pulled him in, guiding him with no need for her hands, and he was surprised at how quickly he was up for it again. She didn’t make him wait long, either—no slow teasing, no gradual movements; she took the banging and banged back just as hard.

Once was enough to satisfy his fantasy for the night. He pulled out of her, holding her gaze, letting her eyes follow him up and up until they were rolled up in her head and her lids dropped. Her breathing slowed into a sleepy rhythm and she drew her arms closer—though he noticed that her legs remained spread as she adjusted herself into a more comfortable position. She made little noises in the back of her throat at his touch as he reclaimed the cheerleader costume and redressed her in her original clothes. He stepped back and looked at his work.

Her eyes fluttered open and locked on him, half-lidded and full of desire. For now, she was still his, but free of the scenarios they’d played out before. “Who’s the ass, Courtney?” he asked.

“I am,” she replied, still deeply in his clutches, still yearning to obey him. It was a familiar tone, a soft sensual need that struck a chord with Avery. He’d done a lot of recruiting in his past; he could make her his, an empty-headed model selling anything and everything he told her to, fucking him every way possible, with no memory of who she had been or where she was from. But he was done with recruiting people into mindless uniformed shills for a bigger machine, and done with playing by other people’s rules.

“That’s right, Courtney. For one last time, you’re going to be my beautiful, fuckable ass. Look in the mirror and see just how fuckable you look, just how much fun we’ve had together. I’m gonna fuck you to sleep one more time, right in that beautiful, spectacular ass. Then your wet dream will be over, and you’ll go home refreshed, a few hundred dollars richer, and needing to tell all your friends to come see my booth at the home show. Every time you think about how you want to please me, think about your friends making me money.”

The goofy look on Courtney’s face in the mirror told Avery that his instructions had successfully sunk into her brain. She rolled her hips as she undid the button of her jeans to begin the final round. Avery grinned. Her ass really was something else—not control quality, but closer than he had realized before. He reached into his suitcase and took out a bottle of lube, though he figured that he might have been able to slick her up well enough by sweeping a hand through her dripping slit and running it into her ass. But it wasn’t a risk he wanted to take with this, so he squeezed some of the cool lube into his hand and worked it up into her ass. She flexed against him, arching into his touch. When she was good and ready, and when he was good and ready, he bent her over and put two fingers in her ass to stretch her out, then guided his cock into her hole, reaching around to finger her clit as he did so.

They rocked together, back and forth, until he was spent and she was heavy and sleepy against him. He pulled out and put her pants back on her. “Now go on home. Someone’s probably worried about you somewhere,” he said with a kiss and a smack of her ass.

Like a good one-night stand, she was gone in a flash, leaving Avery to sleep off the long, busy night—there was a long, busy morning ahead of him.

“You jackass! Where’s our pet ass? You owe us big, rookie! Real big! Like look at Carole’s ring big!” Vinny screeched in the morning.

“Rainmaker takes a girl, and she has to drive everyone’s sales,” Avery shot back. “Oh, I took her all right. Took her every which way but loose, because there was nothing loose about her. As for driving everyone’s sales... well, it’s still a half hour before the doors open, and I need to add some more chairs.”

“He’s dead before lunch,” Carole predicted, adjusting her ring and going through her sample case for the heavy artillery.

Thirty minutes later, on the nose, the doors opened, and what looked like every co-ed in the city of Columbus stampeded in. Some had brought their boyfriends, some were in giggling groups, and some had come alone, but all of them had their purses or wallets at the ready, and they arrowed for Avery’s booth like they had a homing beacon. “Hello, ladies, c’mon, sit down, make yourselves comfortable!” Avery shouted, gathering them in. “I’ve got something here to show you that I know you’ll all want to see. It’s big! It’s long! It squeezes into even the tightest of cracks! You over there, in the jeans and boots! Cuntry girl, what could it be?”

Courtney, in the same jeans and a different pair of boots, giggled and pronounced, “Your cock!”

“No! It’s the Fleiss Suck-O-Matic 6000 vacuum! Nothing gives more suction or leaves you more satisfied. I know, I’ve done extensive market research,” Avery said, scoring another round of giddy giggles and a sea of glassy eyes. As he went on to extol the virtues of the device, the girls pulled out their money and their credit cards and flagged him down.

“Did he just...” Vinny started.

Carole shook her head. “He did. Somehow.”

Avery sauntered over with a wad of bills in one hand and a fistful of signed credit card slips in the other. “Sales 101, rookies,” he said with a triumphant glare at Vinny. “Best advertising? Word of mouth. You know what’s better than that? When it comes from a pair of lips that’ve tasted my dick.”

He walked back to the table to count his money, satisfied with twenty-four hours’ work. He’d made more than enough to satisfy the big dogs, he’d gotten to keep himself in practice, and he’d never hear a word from Courtney again. That was the way it was supposed to work as a traveling salesman controller—there for the money through a well-timed pitch, and turning around to hit a home run was just a perk.

“Geez, Em, get outta there! Emma’s Orange Peel never works! Besides, you know better than to trust a traveling salesman, right?” Courtney said, saving her friend with a smile.

Avery wondered, slipping over the edge into fantasizing, whether that extra roll in her hips was a buried memory thanking him for the reminder.

“All I really wanted was one for the Angel. If you can spread your wings and put me in Heaven, I’ll make sure to give you the halo,” Avery said when the show swept into San Antonio and left him with a petite, well-curved Latina. He counted down the buttons on her sheer blouse: five, four, three, two, one, and she was his as the blouse fell to the floor.

A different day, a different city, a different product, but it was the same in the only regard that mattered. He lifted Angel up in her bra and jeans and set her down on the bed for a three-course meal: her fantasy, his fantasy, and their new reality.