The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mike had never woken up to a blow job before, and though he was no expert, he was sure that Imogen was a world class fellatrix. He was shooting his load into her perfect, talented mouth before he was even really awake. After she had licked up every last drop of semen, she curled up in the crook of his arm and kissed him just above the bandage on his stomach.

“Time to get up, sir,” she said.

“I’m up and back down again already,” he said.

Imogen giggled. “Take your shower and I will have breakfast ready for you when you get out.”

“I told you I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

“You are going to start today, sir.”

Mike tilted his head and looked questioningly.

“You wanted to get into shape, sir. To get healthy. That will require a regimen of exercise and nutrition.”

“Alright then,” said Mike, getting up and making his way to the shower.

True to her word, Imogen was waiting patiently and naked with a piece of whole wheat toast and a glass of grapefruit-pineapple juice.

“Is that your hair?” asked Mike, as he took a bite of toast and looked at the half inch platinum blond brush covering her head.

“Yes, sir. Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s pretty sexy. But I do like the longer hair too. You should do just what you’ve done so far and vary the color style and length. But maybe leave it one way for an entire week, before changing it, rather than changing it every day.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What now?” asked Mike.

“We begin with a morning cardio-pulmonary workout, sir,” Imogen said.

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It is just a brisk walk, sir,” she said. “and I will be with you the entire time.

They both dressed, Mike in his new blue jogging suit and Imogen in a tight pair of red shorts and a white spaghetti tank. Then the two of them left the house and started for a walk down the street. Imogen monitored the speed and maintained Mike’s pace. Only once did she have to verbally encourage his to keep it up. Simply being next to her was quite enough motivation. They followed a great looping path around several housing developments, it was easily the longest walk that Mike had ever taken, at last returning to his front door.

“Five miles,” announced Imogen.

“Holy Christ,” said Mike, as he flopped down in his recliner.

It was a good twenty minutes before his heart had slowed down and by then he was sweating like a pig.

“Next time,” he said. “Walk first, then shower. Right now I need another.”

He peeled off his sweat soaked workout suit and climbed back into the shower. When he popped back out, feeling surprisingly invigorated, Imogen was waiting there again, naked and with a clean towel for him.

“Are we going to do this every day?” he asked.

“Five times a week, sir,” she said. “And beginning tomorrow afternoon, muscle training for one hour three times a week.”

“Huh. OK Now that that’s out of the way, what are we doing today?”

“We need to go shopping, sir,” said Imogen.

“That’s all we’ve done this week, ” said Mike. “shopped.”

“Not for food or clothes, sir. We need to shop for Christmas presents.”

“Presents?”

“Yes, sir. Tomorrow is Christmas and you need to purchase something for your daughter.”

“Yes, that’s true,” said Mike, mentally noting that he wanted to get something for Imogen as well.

“I need to do some shopping on my own too, sir,” said Imogen, surprising him.

“Alright, but keep it under a thousand.”

“Yes, sir.”

“By the way,” said Mike. “I know you’ve been driving and everything, but do you have a license or any other ID in case you get stopped?”

Imogen grabbed a small silver purse that she had purchased at the mall and which was now hanging on the hood beside the door. Popping it open, she pulled out a stack of identification papers including a US passport, California driver’s license, and a social security card.”

“Wow,” said Mike. “OK, let’s go.

They left home and drove to the nearby city of Pico Mundo, to the same mall, which three days earlier, Mike had been attacked and stabbed. They both got out of the car and Imogen transferred to the driver’s seat, kissing Mike as they crossed paths. She told him that she would pick him up in that exact spot in precisely three hours.

“How am I supposed to shop for three hours?” wondered Mike.

But he did manage to make good use of the time, and it was busy on Christmas Eve. He stopped at the custom jewelry store and had them put together his present for Imogen, not exactly custom made, but assembled to order. He bought Betty a nice jacket and decided to put a one hundred dollar bill into each of the four pockets. And he thought, he would remember to tell her there was money there, in case she decided to exchange it. He even bought Betty’s husband Jack a package of assorted cheeses from Hickory Farms. He stopped by the food court to purchase a milk shake, but remembered his efforts to get in shape, and ordered a diet Coke instead. Finally he stopped at the Dell kiosk and thought about replacing his four year old computer. When he at last returned to the appointed rendezvous spot, he had only to sit and sip his drink for about three minutes before Imogen pulled up.

Mike hopped in the passenger side of the car and let Imogen drive them home to Springdale. Once there, they wrapped presents, then had a lunch of chef salad for Mike and water for Imogen, and changed clothes. Imogen wore what she referred to as a red bra-top dress, though it didn’t look at all bra-like to Mike, and showed off her ample cleavage to great effect and a pair of matching three and a half inch wedge shoes. Mike wore a pair of tan slacks and a matching pullover sweater which Imogen picked out for him.

Back in the car, they drove to Greendale, to Betty’s house. When Betty saw Imogen’s hair, she squeaked in surprise.

“You cut your hair off!”

“That was just a wig,” said Imogen.

When Betty’s husband Jack saw Imogen, his mouth fell open.

“Put you tongue and you eyeballs back in your head,” said Mike, as he walked passed him. Then for good measure, Betty smacked Jack on the back of the head.

The four talked for a while and then passed out and opened presents. Betty, who worked in a dentist’s office and was always quite fastidious about her teeth, gave her father an electric toothbrush system with automatic flossing and tongue cleaner attachments. Mike pointed out to Imogen that there were several different color coded tips, so that they could both use it. This was, Mike thought, a relatively smooth way of letting Betty know that Imogen would be living with him. Betty loved her jacket, though she tried to give her father back the four hundred dollars in the pocket. And Jack was shocked that his father-in-law had purchased a present for him. Finally Imogen gave Betty her present… a custom framed portrait of Mike, Irene, Mark and Betty, taken when Betty had been about nine years old. Tears came to Betty’s eyes, and she hugged Imogen.

On the way home, Mike looked over at Imogen, to see her returning his gaze, with a look of deep devotion in her face.

“These have been the best few days of my life,” he said. “you know, except the part about getting stabbed and ending up in the hospital.”

Imogen giggled.

“Are you real? Are you really here with me?”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Promise you won’t leave me?”

“I promise, sir,” she said.

Once home, Imogen served Mike a dinner of grilled chicken, asparagus spears, and a tossed salad. Mike had to admit that this left him wanting more, but he was determined to follow her directions and get into shape. Anyway, by the time he had finished eating, his mind was completely occupied by Imogen’s naked body, moving about the room with perfect grace and balance, as she waited up him.

As soon as he was done with dinner, Mike guided her back into the bedroom and had her stretch out on the bed. He kissed and kneaded her large breasts, each definitely more than a handful, and gently teased her newly pierced nipples. He kissed his way down her perfectly flat stomach to her equally perfect pussy. As Mike kissed and licked the delicate folds of her pussy lips, he noted that she looked like a real woman… any other real woman, he corrected, with beautiful unfolding petals beneath a delectable little clit, peering out of its hiding place. As he tongued her, the petals unfolded, and her whole pussy began to swell slightly with anticipation.

Mike moved up slightly and began to suck on her clit. With his left hand, he reached beneath her and began to work his middle finger into her tight asshole. With his right, he reached down and stroked himself. His cock needed very little encouragement to become completely rigid. Imogen began to arch her back and moan. With one quick movement, Mike moved up and plunged his hard cock into that beautiful swollen pussy.

“Come for me,” he whispered.

Imogen stretched and bucked, as her superhuman orgasm hit her in wave after wave. It was all Mike could do to hang on. He didn’t need to stroke in and out. The undulating waves of tightening and churning inside her was enough to bring him to his own orgasm without him moving at all. He felt hot come shoot from his cock again and again into her. At last, he was forced to pull out, because though his orgasm was over, leaving his cock highly sensitive, hers continued on beneath him. At last Mike rolled off of her, as his eyes began to roll up in his head. He went to sleep just as he had awakened that day, with Imogen licking his cock clean.

It was still early in the evening as far as Imogen was concerned, not even eleven o’clock. But she went directly to the garage, to her metal chamber for recharging. She wanted to be able to work uninterrupted, once all of her systems were up to speed. Little more than three hours later, a hiss announced that her cycle had been completed and she went to work on her Christmas Eve projects with abandon.

When Mike got up just before eight, which was quite early for him on a non-school day, he found Imogen on her hands and knees, naked as always while at home, scrubbing the floor of the bathroom.

“What is that?” asked Mike.

Peering out from between two perfectly formed buttocks, in the exact spot the one would expect to find Imogen’s perfect little asshole, was a large red jewel.

“That is your first Christmas present, sir” said Imogen. “It’s the Rosebud decorative butt plug. Do you like it?”

“How big is that thing?”

“It’s just over three inches long and one and one quarter inches in diameter at its widest point, sir.” “I do like it,” said Mike, “but how did you get something that big in there?’

“If my ass can accommodate you, sir,” she said, “it can easily accommodate this.”

Imogen finished her cleaning and Mike went to the bathroom. Afterwards, they both got dressed in their workout clothes and went for their morning five mile walk. Mike wasn’t sure, but he thought that Imogen had a little more swing in her hips than she had before. When they returned, Mike took a few minutes to catch his breath. Then he took his shower, and was rewarded upon its completion by a clean towel, his breakfast of juice and toast, and the uninterrupted view of Imogen’s increasingly adorned body.

Once Mike had dressed, he and Imogen went to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Mike presented her with the present he had purchased at the mall. It was a white gold neck chain with her name in white gold charms hanging from it… I M O G E N. Tears welled up in her eyes and she kissed him so deeply, that for a moment, he thought she was trying to swallow his tongue.

“This is your second present, sir,” said Imogen, handing Mike a flat, wrapped package.

“Just how many presents do I get? wondered Mike.

“Four, sir.”

“Well, OK.”

Mike unwrapped the package and found “The Book of Erotic Fantasy”.

“Is the D&D or porn?” he wondered.

“A little bit of both, sir,” replied Imogen, taking him by the hand.

She led in into the hallway to his daughter’s old room that had been reserved of late for a junk room. When he looked inside, Mike’s mouth fell open in shock. The entire room had been cleaned and organized. No more junk. One wall was covered with shelves, upon which rested thousands of tiny gaming figures. The adjoining wall was covered with shelves upon which stood almost endless rows of gaming books and notebooks, in which the fantasy world that Mike had created all those years ago for his children, was detailed and organized. The closet had been converted into a game closet with shelving storage units holding hundreds of board games. In the center of the room was a red felt covered table with six chairs around it and little cups filled with odd shaped polyhedron dice upon it.

“Do you like it, sir?” asked Imogen.

“Yes, I love it, but,”

“Wait, sir. There’s more.”

She took him by the hand, leading him out of that room and to the next bedroom… the one which had once belonged to his son. Here Mike found an even greater shock. She had converted the room into a gym. One wall was covered by mirrors. The other wall featured a television, mounted high up near the ceiling. In the center of the room, facing the TV was a treadmill and not far away was a weight bench with an extensive set of free weights. The closet was filled with Mike’s exercise clothes, several fluffy white bathrobes, and stacks of clean white towels.

“Holy Christ,” said Mike. “How much did all of this cost?”

“For all of your presents,” said Imogen. “just under one thousand dollars, sir, as you directed.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir,” she explained. “The most expensive things were the television and the closet organizers. The shelves on the wall, I built from lumber I purchased at the hardware store. The gaming table I made, by purchasing an old dinette set at a yard sale and covering it with felt. Most everything else, you already had in storage, either in one of these rooms or in the garage.”

Mike spent the rest of the morning relaxing, while Imogen curled up on the floor with her chin resting on his knee. Whenever he wanted his drink refilled or to change the channel on the television, she did it before he even knew that he wanted it. At lunch time, she fixed him an Asian chicken wrap and a delicious fruit salad.

Afterward they worked out in the new gym, showered, and then sat down in the game room at the new game table to roll up some characters for an erotic D&D game. Mike created a half-orc fighter/barbarian and Imogen created an elven planetouched tantrist.

“My guy is going to grab your little elf girl and defile her in every way imaginable!” said Mike.

“That’s what you think,” replied Imogen. “My character can transform sexual energy to create magical and psychic defenses.”

“You sound like a girl nerd!” Mike laughed.

Imogen pouted. Then they both laughed together.

When they were done creating characters and planning out what their erotic game was going to be like, the sun had gone down. They hopped into the car and drove around the neighborhood to look at Christmas decorations. There were some that were quite impressive.

When they arrived home Imogen served Mike another delicious meal… this time a juicy rib-eye steak, with golden fried potatoes, sauteed spinach, and a green salad with pesto dressing.

“Are you sure that this is appropriate for my diet?” Mike asked.

Imogen cocked an eyebrow at him, and Mike laughed because he recognized the expression as one of his own.

“This is a well balanced meal, sir,” she said. “The important thing to remember is portion control. This six ounce steak will provide you with the iron and protein you need for the additional exercise that you are doing now. And this is Australian grass-fed beef.”

“Is that good?” asked Mike.

She nodded.

After dinner, they sat down and watched “A Christmas Story,” Mike had seen it many times before, but enjoyed watching it with Imogen. She giggled when Ralphie tried to tell Santa that he wanted a Red Rider BB Rifle, and she squeaked in alarm when he almost shot his eye out. All in all, Mike thought that this was not only the best Christmas he’d had since Irene died, but was perhaps the best Christmas he had ever had.

Hopping on the scale after brushing his teeth, Mike was amazed to find that he had already lost eight pounds. He hopped up and down excitedly, grabbed Imogen around the waist and threw her onto the bed. They both laughed as they wrestled around on the bed and soon Mike’s excitement had moved from his head to his engorged cock.

Placing Imogen on her hands and knees, Mike slid into her already lubricious pussy in a single stroke. He didn’t wait and didn’t play around. He pumped in and out, quick and hard, his hips slapping against her ass. When he started to shoot his cum into her, Mike called out for Imogen to come, and she began her wild orgasm, this time bucking like a bronco. Mike grabbed her shoulders and plunged in to the hilt one last time, determined to hold on. Imogen was just beginning to come down from her orgasmic high, when the bed frame broke and they both dropped down four inches.

“Oh!” she squeaked.

Mike had some of his air knocked out of him when his stomach hit Imogen’s firm ass cheeks. Then he burst out laughing. Rolling over on his back, Mike told her that he would fix the bed the following day. Imogen lifted the side of the bed up, with Mike still on it, and grabbed a stack of books from the nearby bookshelf to prop it up, then set it back down.

“I will fix it tomorrow, sir,” she said.

Mike slept well that night. As he did, Imogen once again entered her steel crate and remained for three hours. Once she was out, she did her housework, which now included doing routine maintenance on the various appliances in the house, including cleaning out Mike’s electric razor. She put on her clothes and went outside to do two hours of yard work in the dark, and determined that it would take her only a few days to put the yard into a condition she considered good enough for Mr. Anderson. Finally she finished her reorganization of the garage, including making a spot for a computer station. Then she moved Mike’s computer from the bedroom into the garage.

When Mike got up, the first thing he noticed was that his computer was gone.

“What’s that about?” he asked.

“That computer is not good enough for you, sir,” Imogen said. “We need to go to Best Buy today and purchase a new one for you.”

“Alright,” said Mike. “but we will have to do that tomorrow. Today, we are going to the Beach.”

Mike loaded the beach chairs, umbrellas, and towels into the car, while Imogen prepared an ice chest full of food and drinks for them. They hopped in the car and drove west. Though they were in California, Springdale was a good three hour drive from the coast. The time went by quickly. Mike listened to the radio. Imogen watched him with devotion in her eyes.

After three hours and eight minutes of driving, Mike reached Oceanside, California. He pulled into a gas station two blocks away from the beach and filled up. He noticed that across the street was a surf shop. He sent Imogen over with some cash to rent a boogie board. When she arrived back, she not only had the boogie board, but a shopping bag as well.

“What did you buy?” he asked.

“I bought some sun block for you, and swimsuits for both of us, sir.”

“Oh shit,” said Mike. “I forgot all about suits. I didn’t pack mine and you didn’t even have one.”

“Problem solved, sir,” said Imogen.

They drove the two blocks to the beach, but the public parking lot was completely full. Mike paid twenty dollars to park his car for the day in a private lot. Normally, he would have complained about having to pay so much just to park, but nothing seemed to bother him anymore. After trucking the ice chest, chairs, towels, umbrella, and boogie board down to the sand, and finding a good spot just above the high tide line, the two of them went to the public changing rooms.

Mike liked the swimsuit that Imogen had picked out for him. It was long, almost to his knees, and was bright orange, yellow, and red. He thought it was the type of suit that a young man would wear. It made his head swell a little and his cock stir a little to think that Imogen thought it was appropriate for him. When he stepped out of the changing room and saw Imogen in her suit, his cock did more that stir. It created a massive orange, red, and yellow tent in his new suit, and he did his best to cover it with his hands.

Imogen’s swimsuit was without a doubt, the smallest string bikini that Mike had ever seen. Even on the internet. The little patch of material in the front could not have been more than an inch wide and an inch and a half above where it peeked out of the joining point of her legs. The back had no patch of cloth at all. It was just string. The top could have been custom made for her, in that the two triangular cups “if they could be identified by so extravagant a term) were almost exactly the same size as her nipples.

Mike led Imogen to the beach chairs, completely aware that every eye—every one—was upon his woman. While he sat, Imogen rubbed sun block on all of his exposed surfaces.

“I suppose you don’t need any sun block?” he asked.

“I am shielded against much greater radiation that I am likely to be exposed to here, sir,” Imogen replied.

“So you don’t tan?”

“I can be tan if you would like me to be, sir.”

Imogen concentrated for a moment and there was a swirling on her skin, then suddenly, she was as dark as if she had been lying on the beach all summer. Mike looked around to see if anyone would notice the sudden change in coloration, but though there were still a dozen eyes upon her almost naked form, none of them seemed startled, or indeed to possess any emotion besides lust.

For the next several hours, Mike and Imogen hopped through the surf, built a sand castle, pulled each other along on the boogie board, and had a great time. By the time Mike thought about food, it was early afternoon. Imogen had packed quite a picnic—sandwiches, fruit, jello, and diet sodas. After eating they swam, and continued playing in the surf. When night began to fall and it got too cold to prance around in wet swimsuits, they changed back into their clothes and walked along the beach.

They walked to the opposite end of the stretch of sand, several miles from where they had parked, and found a seafood restaurant. They smiled and talked over the candle-lit dinner, though Imogen drank only water. Then walked back down the darkened beach, hand in hand, pausing every so often to look at the moon reflecting off the waves. When they reached their picnic sight, they found they were all alone on the sand.

Imogen leaned over and kissed Mike deeply, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth. He returned the kisses and more. Reaching down, he pulled her shorts and thong down past her long legs and off. She lay back and pointed her feet toward the sky, giving him open access to that perfect hairless pussy. Mike licked and sucked at those delicious petals, then found her clit with his tongue and sucked until she came violently. Then he climbed up on top of her, undid his pants and pulled out his now throbbing cock. He stroked in and out of her tight moist hole, trying his best to make it last, but far too soon he emptied a massive load of cum into her.

Zipping back up, Mike stretched out on the sand with his head in Imogen’s still naked lap. She caressed his face and brushed his hair, and after a few moments, he had fallen asleep on the sand. A shiver woke Mike. The temperature had dropped and it was too cold now to be out. Imogen was still idly stroking his face.

“Let’s get going,” he said.

They gathered up their belongings and carried them back to the car. Loading the things in the back seat, Mike opened the passenger door for Imogen and then climbed in to the driver’s seat.

“This was the best day I’ve ever spent at the,…. Imogen, what’s wrong with you?”

Imogen’s skin was a pale green and she had dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired, weary, and this was all the more noticeable because of her normally super-human vitality.

“I should be recharging in my crate, sir.”

“Shit! Why didn’t you remind me?”

“We were having such a good time, sir,” she said. “I didn’t want to spoil it.”

Mike started the car and slammed it into gear. He took off out of the parking lot and within three minutes, had hit the freeway and was zooming home. He sped through the heavy traffic as fast as he dared, averaging between ninety and one hundred miles per hour. He kept a careful watch for the California Highway Patrol, but the truth was, as fast as he could manage on the California freeway system was only marginally faster than everyone else on the road.

As he drove, Mike glanced at Imogen frequently. She stared back at him with the same look of devotion in her eyes that she always had. Though the only light cast on her was from the dash lights, she seemed to look more and more tired.

“Hang on, Immie. We’ll be home soon,” said Mike.

“I like that name,” she replied quietly. “Immie.”

Mike made the trip home in two hours and twenty minutes, but by the time they reached home, it seemed as though Imogen could hardly walk. Mike guided her through the house and into the garage, and into her metallic crate. She seemed to weak to connect the attachments to her face and ass, so Mike did it for her. Carefully removing the jeweled butt plug first, he jammed the lower connection into her rectum, then pressed the other over her face. As the compartment door sealed shut with a hiss, Mike stood looking worriedly at the strange coffin-like box.