The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next two days were routine. Chloe would smile her way into the office and into her cubicle, while the secretaries chuckled at her. She didn’t understand why they were staring at her, or the way they were whispering. It was like a secret code, delivered in giggles, punctuated with a twisted wedding ring or a twirled necklace, emphasized by a long look or a knowing smile, before they returned to their work.

“Jealous, ladies?” Chloe finally sniped back when she headed to her desk on Friday.

Two of the secretaries nodded at each other and followed her to her cubicle. “Good job, Miss St. John. Now, with your new... position... you have some new forms to fill out,” the blonde said.

“During trading hours? Are you girls insane?” Chloe asked.

“Won’t take a minute. Owl Dance ‘98, I understand,” the brunette said, droning out understand because that was the only way she could pronounce the word.

“I ain’t no cheerleader! That’s why I can trade futures and all you can do is delay them with paperwork!” Chloe snapped.

“We know. C’mon with us to the HR office. Won’t take long at all,” the blonde said, letting her amethyst cross fall a little deeper into her cleavage to emphasize its size and the firmness of the breasts around it, despite being a soccer mom with four kids.

“She has a lot of real work to do. I know she has paperwork to fill out, but she’ll be ready after this weekend. Now run along and get coffee for the guys like the good girls you are,” Shelby said—but in a firm tone that made Chloe he ar alarm bells. Mama bear defending her baby? Or mama bear warning off the wolves from the kill? she wondered.

The brunette nodded and made a beeline for the break room. The blonde, however, was less amused and tapped her forms impatiently. Shelby smirked. “Tell Carl I said hi,” she said.

The blonde’s face lit up with adoration, and she fluttered off in a lover’s daydream to her desk.

“What’s all that about?” Chloe asked.

“You can’t afford to lose hours on Mount Paperwork. Monday afternoon’s always slow after the rush, you can do it then. Remember, we got shift tonight. Leaving as soon as the markets close, right? Meet you there!” Shelby said with a smile.

Chloe shook with realization and terror. Right. Shift. Rooftop. Shit. I’m still tied into that. Oh God oh God oh God oh God...

Her focus was gone, but she was still good enough to keep from slipping off her furious pace. It was just fueled by coffee and willpower instead of whatever desire had been placed on her like a collar and was harder than anything she’d ever done in her life.

“Learning how the other half lives?” a cocoa-skinned beauty in a charcoal pantsuit said. When Chloe grunted something that might have been reluctant acknowledgement of the statement, the other woman went on, “You’re good anyway. Just keep at it and don’t let Shelby lead you into anything you’ll regret later.”

Too late for that, hon, Chloe thought grimly as she focused on her screen and concentrated on her work. She felt fully awake—but that only lasted until market close, when she felt herself being drawn to the exit. She tried to will herself to stay late, even if it was just five minutes, but she marched to the car and started driving to the Rooftop.

No. No! NO! she chanted over and over again in her head, trying to do something that would break the script: reach the wheel, turn around and go home, rip off her ridiculously high heels, call for help, wipe the makeup off her face, anything that would get her one step closer to her normal life and one step further away from the pink haze that awaited her on the fiftieth floor.

But her body wouldn’t comply. Days of whatever drugged perfume and God only knew what else she’d been programmed with made her numb and heavy whenever she wasn’t following the script. She wrung her hands together weakly, but that was all she could move. She knew from the movies that that was more than most people could manage by this point.

She focused on the misery and the pain, the real things that might drag her back to the real world. Her ankles were sore and her toes ten points of sharp pain from the heels. Her crotch ached from the constant stimulation of the thong during the day and the silver vibrator at night. Her eyes were heavy not just from the influence of the perfume but from exhaustion. How much have I actually slept? she wondered. Of course, if you’re just in REM sleep and you never get the full cycle... realizing that is all well and good, but I’d really like to be able to see straight.

She eyed her phone, then wondered what would happen if she called the hospital. How could she explain this to anyone? At all? This was the kind of thing that happened in spiral movies and horror stories passed around at sleepovers. And even if they did believe her... that “Normandie” stuff is so expensive they’d probably just throw me in with the high class junkies and ship me off to Malibu. Don’t need to see “All That Glitters” to know what goes on around there!

Her desire to fight was fading out, and she was no longer sure whether it was the control that had been placed on her or her own quick mind finding reasons. All she knew was that the less she resisted, the better she felt. The aches and pains receded into dull throbbing, and the exhaustion lifted into simple tiredness. She finally relented and stepped out of the car, letting her balance return as she opened her purse and took another spritz of perfume. It was enough to straighten out her posture and let her walk again in the heels.

“Chloe St. John. I work at the Rooftop,” she said all too proudly to the security guard, and he nodded as he eyed her from head to toe. She didn’t look anywhere near her best, but she knew he was still photographing her mentally for all kinds of fantasies to distract him as the night wore on. Chloe didn’t dare giggle, not knowing what reaction that would cause, but she found the situation hilarious.

When she reached the top floor, Christina was waiting for her in a pink dress that shimmered with every breath she took. Chloe found her eyes following the movement and her mind emptying of all her worries.

“Ninety minutes late! Let me see your ticket. At least we’ll validate it if you have a really good reason,” Christina said with a vicious scowl.

Chloe handed over the ticket, and Christina scrutinized the timestamp. “You arrived twenty minutes early,” Christina said, sounding impressed, and Chloe’s heart tried to leap with pride and sink in despair at the same time. “No wonder you look like shit. At that point, I thought you would have just curled up and decided to sleep forever. She knows her girls. All right, off to the training room. You’ve earned your lemonade this time. You must be very thirsty.“

“Coffee crash. Trading was tougher than I expected,” Chloe mumbled meekly, unable to take her eyes from Christina’s dress as it dazzled her into insensibility. She was aware of Christina’s smile, and aware that she didn’t like it very much, but she could do nothing but let Christina lead her to a back room and perch her on a stool.

There were three other women there, all about her age, all looking more out of it than she was, all in the same “sexy businesswoman” outfit she wore, though in different colors and levels of tightness. All of them had their legs crossed; the curvaceous brunette at the end of the line seemed ready to start masturbating at any moment, while the other two looked like they would tighten their legs and start pumping at the slightest sign of anything arousing. Chloe followed suit, waiting for whatever was next.

As Christina left the room, Chloe tried again to awaken, but the awareness that they wanted her to fight made her hesitate, as if her struggle made her more useful. She started to drift into the pleasure, but her next thought made her poke herself sharply in the leg with her heel. No, no giving because they don’t seem to want you to. How many girls went brain-dead over that trick? Oldest one in the book! Just ask Brer Rabbit, she reminded herself.

So while the other girls smiled vacantly, staring at the walls, Chloe’s smile was confident as she waited. Only a few minutes passed before Christina returned carrying a tray with four large glasses. Whatever was so inside was so bright that it left pink behind and went right for fuchsia. “Drinks up, ladies! The other lemonade you had was watered down crap. This is the good stuff! Enjoy!” she said with a wicked grin.

The other three took their glasses and drank up in long swallows without hesitation. Chloe tried to fight it, but resistance hurt and she was just so tired... she sighed and thought of her family, and of the one boyfriend she might have considered for something longer-term, for what she was sure was the last time, and then chugged what she was sure was some kind of mental poison. She wasn’t surprised that it worked with her arousal—everything else did—so she crossed her legs more tightly together, letting her thong float up into her pleasure zone as she waited for the drug to take effect.

Then Inga walked into the room, and Chloe stopped thinking of anything but her. No, her, she realized in a daze—this had to be the woman Shelby and Christina would only speak of in the most worshipful ways. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the others were even more fixed on Inga, which only reminded Chloe of what she was supposed to be doing.

“Good. Ready to work for me? Good girls, not even a twitch. My presence has soaked into your brains. Do not think to resist me. I have done this for too long for you to escape the thunder in my voice that makes you serve me. If you have the strength I chose you for, then you have tried, only to go mad from looking at the consequences. This is the mark of my people, and like any of them, I could tear your mind to ribbons and leave you babbling on a street corner. But I am not so cruel as to use my presence as the bond.” Inga smiled like a wolf and pointed at an empty glass. “Your drink is a hormone booster. The others before were to create the habit, but this will transform you. Your enslavement will be natural, and it will come easily, with little pain and much pleasure as you accept it.”

Yay? Chloe managed to wonder.

“You still have weeks of training before you can join me here. This transformation is no different from the one to woman to wife, then wife to mother—just increased beyond your imagination. In about an hour, you will go into heat. I do not know how long until you will be sated, nor do I care. It is only a side effect. Enjoy your rut. It will make the hormone production go faster and let you get to work. I know you wonder why I tell you this. I believe in the power of truth. I could have crushed you in minutes, but I would have destroyed your value. Truth and knowledge feed your intelligence. I am encasing that intelligence in your obedience to me. Now, tell me your status,” Inga said, turning to the first stool.

The break in contact was enough to bring Chloe back, albeit drowsy and with a raging headache. The only word she could fixate on was value, and then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Ponzi scheme, she realized. Inga would take all the knowledge and skill they had, imprison it under a shell of sex and giggling so they wouldn’t get any ideas about trying to overthrow her, but let them use it at work to provide her money. Sure, they’d have some little bit to eat and keep up appearances with, but the rest would be Inga’s. It might even be that way legally, given Shelby’s “Slavic Checking” account. Of course, their natural focus would make them all the more dangerous, and that was why she searched for smart, ambitious young women.

“Helen Masterson, Reid, Harris, and Clarke. Promoted to junior partner under Mr. Clarke. He’s retiring at the end of the year. Then it will be Reid, Harris, and Masterson,” the curvaceous brunette said with a blissful smile.

“A case that settles the same day would get a hundred thousand in billable hours there. Good, Helen,” Inga said, going to the next stool.

“Lucinda Morgan, National Federal Bank. Last week I was named private client manager for all accounts over five million gross,” the statuesque black woman said in carefully cultured classy tones.

“Be sure to bring them here if they are not already regulars. Good, Lucinda,” Inga said. This time, Chloe noticed that Lucinda stopped moving the moment Inga complimented her, and that Helen was just as statue still on her right.

“Paula Franklin, Boswell and Halsted. I’m in charge of all gold buys and trades on the open market,” the redhead with the signs of expensive work on her said, her voice as brisk as she could manage under trance.

“Gold is a very solid investment now. Good, Paula,” Inga said.

Paula stood up and froze in the same position that the other two were in. Chloe could feel dampness between her legs, a steady warmth in time with her pulse and not the raging fire that she had been experiencing. Something about these powerful women, like herself, actually being will-less sex-crazed bimbos away from the office was making her want to stroke herself, but all she could do was cross her legs more and more tightly, hoping for some relief. Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac, and she’s got all the power, she realized through a haze.

Inga walked over to the last stool, where Chloe trembled with fear and need, torn between terror at what was happening to her and the desire to greet her mistress with open arms. The battle between surrender and resistance held her in place as Inga took out a long clear crystal and held it between Chloe’s eyes. The way she was drawn to it, she knew it was a prism, turning the whole world into a pattern of bright lights that surrounded Inga’s face like a halo, turning on the memories of the bright lights that had turned off her mind, turning off her thoughts and her will, flickering as she was falling...

“Chloe St. John, Brown and Stephenson. Promoted to trader this week. Total take was four hundred thousand. I was on pace for half a million, but had a rough Friday,” she droned out, wanting to show her mistress and her fellow slaves how good she was at providing for her mistress.

“Excellent. Shelby barely made six digits her first week. Good, Chloe,” Inga replied.

Chloe felt the command echo in her head, placed there like an anchor, but she was too out to comprehend what it meant until Inga turned away. She stood and waited like a statue, barely knowing that she would do so until another compulsion overpowered the trance. Her mind was as frozen as her body; her body was like ice...

...until a timeless time later, she felt herself ignited in a way she never had before. Her nipples were hard points of exquisite agony, and every breath she took rubbed them against the fabric of her blouse and sent new waves of heat crashing through her body. The touch of the thong against her clit made it throb. She could feel her pussy juicing, slow drops rolling along her cunt and tracing lines against the pantyhose, which stroked every inch of her suddenly sensitive legs with the draft that blew through the room. Her tongue darted out to lick her dry lips as her breathing sped up, and the caress of her lace bra and silk blouse against her heaving breasts made her want to moan.

I need to be fucked, Chloe concluded, proud of herself for putting together that much of a thought. She was pretty sure it had had something to with a drink, and something about steroids or hormones or something like that, but her main priority at the moment was fucking and being fucked. It was really quite convenient that there were three other young, beautiful women in the same state of unrelenting lust as she was.

Paula’s face was already buried in Helen’s ample bosom as they both shimmied out of their suits. Lucinda looked like she was still trying to maintain her frozen composure, but Chloe could see the sweat beading up at her temples and smell her desire. Someone had to do something, and Chloe was a go-getter, so she charged at Lucinda and buried her tongue in Lucinda’s mouth. Lucinda woke up and returned the favor, her mouth hot and hungry against Chloe’s as they pressed against each other, shrugging off their jackets.

Words were complicated and would waste time that could be used licking or sucking or gently nibbling or removing clothes. Chloe had never been so grateful for button-down blouses in her life; she didn’t have to pull anything over her head and thus break the kiss. She felt her knees getting weak, and Lucinda was ready to melt to the floor, so she reluctantly took her mouth from Lucinda’s and guided them down to the floor in a 69. Pantyhose and panties were torn away in their hurry, soaked clear through, and they both came in minutes.

But instead of cutting the heat, it only intensified. As Lucinda lay there shuddering, Chloe’s eye fell on Paula, and she dove at her while Helen crawled to Lucinda’s side. Much to Chloe’s surprise, Paula was not only a natural redhead, but her natural shade was closer to copper than business-like auburn, and the insides of her thighs were lightly freckled. She’d done this before, too, and not just moments before with Helen. Her tongue was sure and confident in Chloe’s cleft, familiar with many more of the tricks than Lucinda had been, and her hips drove the relentless rhythm that carried them both closer and closer to climax.

Chloe had had to lead with Lucinda; she found that she liked having Paula be the dominant one here, while she followed the pattern. Paula knew how to draw out the moment and let the pleasure build until it exploded in a glorious orgasm that made little lights appear behind Chloe’s eyes.

Exhaustion and pleasure warred in Chloe, but though her eyes grew heavy, her pussy still demanded more attention. Paula kissed her one more time, then went to Lucinda, who looked like she had just recovered from her run with Helen. Chloe didn’t have to wait long—Helen came to her, her luscious curves dripping with sweat and her eyes dark with lust.

Chloe tried to rise to the occasion, but she was so caught up in her lust that she couldn’t put together the thoughts to do something about it. Helen lay down next to her and began to stroke and caress her—not deep inside where raw need pulsed and throbbed, but around, at the back of her neck and around her nipples, along her legs and the crack of her ass. Slowly, like awakening from a dream, Chloe began to echo her, finding a sort of cutthroat glee in bringing someone to the edge of coming without letting them go over that edge, discovering all the ways she could make Helen sigh and mewl and beg for more until Helen couldn’t stand it anymore and rolled on top of her in the 69 that had already become second nature to Chloe’s sex-starved mind and lust-crazed body.

Around and around they went for hours, changing partners when one had satisfied another, trying out threesomes and foursomes in a chain of tongues and pussies, using mouths and hands on breasts and asses and dripping slits, falling deeper into the pleasure and knowing at a bone-deep level who the mistress was that had allowed them to enjoy it. Every orgasm was another link in the chain, and Chloe wanted those links, wanted the chains to be long and thick just so she could keep coming and coming and coming...

Paula, the oldest of the four, was the first one to give out, coming with one last moan and curling up in a ball on the floor. The remaining trio intensified their experimentation with threesomes until Helen’s eyes rolled up in her head, leaving Chloe and Lucinda to entertain each other until Lucinda melted to the floor with a goofy grin on her face.

That left Chloe alone, with no one to help her relieve the low thrumming need that still sang through her—except that the last few hours had given her wonderful fantasy material, and she let her hand do the work as she added even more detail to the lesbian orgy she had just enjoyed. It took a while, but finally she hit one last climax and her eyes grew so heavy that all she wanted to do was lie down on the floor and go to sleep.