The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Just bring it in here!” Erica heard the woman’s shout clearly through the door, and she adjusted the package in her hand to try the doorknob. It opened easily, revealing a large studio apartment. The place seemed like a nightmare of disorganization, big blocks of stone everywhere, chipped and sanded into a variety of strange and disturbing shapes. Tarps covered some of the pieces, various stoneworking tools lay on tables throughout the apartment, and a pile of cushions in the corner suggested that whoever lived here, they didn’t pay much attention to things like “sleeping”.

Erica looked around for a moment, and finally spotted the owner of the voice in a corner, polishing a statue that looked like a claw made out of smoke. It was a woman, one with just a faint stubble of black hair on her shaved head, wearing goggles, a tank-top, and a pair of panties. Erica blushed a little, but the woman didn’t even notice as she waved Erica over. “What do you think?” she said without preamble. “It’s called ‘Fear’.”

Erica looked at the statue, uncertain of what to say. She was pretty sure that the woman didn’t know why Erica was here, and even more sure that she didn’t care. “It’s not making me afraid.”

The woman sighed. “You’re looking at it too representationally. You have to engage with sculpture on a more spiritual level, that’s what abstract art is all about. I’m guessing you don’t go to museums much, do you?”

Erica held up the package, at this point just waiting for a chance to give it to its recipient gracefully and get the hell out. “No, I...um, are you...” She looked at the name on the label. “Miranda Madsen?”

The woman sighed. “Yes...and let me guess, Erica,” she said, making a show of reading Erica’s name tag, “you’d like to enrich your mind by engaging with avant-garde artwork, but there always seems to be something good on TV, right?”

Erica bit her lip. ‘Miranda Madsen’ was a customer, and there was no point in arguing with a customer. She’d never see her again anyway. Let her be smug if she wanted to. “Sign here, please,” she said, holding up an electronic tablet.

Miranda took the tablet, but instead of signing, she walked off to another part of the room. Erica darted after her, but Miranda was paying no attention to the rituals of package delivery. “See, you’re exactly the kind of person that my work is aimed at, Erica. You’re someone who probably has a first-rate mind underneath layers of ingrained pop-culture detritus and mass-produced schlock masquerading as art, but you’ve never tried to engage it. Somewhere, deep under layers of Britney Spears and Brangelina and People Fucking Magazine, the part of you that engages with the higher self, the subconscious element that appreciates truth, the, oh, hell, let’s call it a soul, that part is ready to appreciate my work, or at least, that’s how I feel about it.” Erica felt like Miranda was throwing up a verbal wall to prevent any sort of meaningful interaction, but before she could deliver a statement to that intent, Miranda had pulled off a tarp. “This is really my ‘entry-level’ piece. I call it ‘Obsession’. And no, it’s got nothing to do with the cologne.”

Erica looked at the ‘sculpture’. It was just a cube made out of stone, two feet in all dimensions, resting on a pedestal. She walked all around it, but it was still just an ordinary stone cube. “I don’t get it,” she said. Part of her enjoyed Miranda’s failure to ‘move her soul’, part of her felt a little bit dumb for not understanding the meaning of the piece. But it was still just a cube.

Miranda nodded. “That’s normal at first. Try looking at it for a bit.”

Erica looked at it. Then looked at it a bit longer. “Sorry, still don’t get it. I mean, why is it called ‘Obsession’? It’s just a cube.”

Miranda said, “You’re still thinking representationally. You have to engage with it on the spiritual level, think of the symbolism of the piece. It...” she looked at Erica and sighed. “Never mind.” She signed the electronic tablet, and handed it back to Erica. “Thanks. Just set the package down anywhere on your way out.”

It was stupid, Erica thought as she continued on her drive. Why would it be called ‘Obsession’? It didn’t look like an obsession; an obsession wouldn’t even have a shape. Why would you try to sculpt something that didn’t have a shape, and why would you wind up with a shape like that when you were done?

The thought nagged at her for the rest of her route, and even when she got home, she was bothered by the notion. If she’d tried, Miranda couldn’t have chosen a worse way to represent an obsession. It just didn’t make any sense. Erica ate her dinner quickly and almost turned on the TV, but thought better of it and instead went to bed. ‘Obsession’? She tossed and turned, trying to make some sense of the title of the piece. Hardly.

The next day, she found herself back at Miranda’s apartment. It was Erica’s day off, and she’d been planning to go to the beach and get some sun, but something about that sculpture had stuck in her head. It just didn’t make sense. She knocked on Miranda’s door. “Come in!", she shouted from inside the apartment, and Erica once again let herself in.

Miranda looked up from the piece she was working on. This time, she was wearing a pair of shorts, but no top—just a bra. Erica wondered if she ever even noticed what she was wearing. “Oh, Erica! Back for more mental stimulation, eh? Or do you just have some more chisels for me?”

Erica blushed a little. “I, um...actually, I wanted to see that sculpture you showed me yesterday. Y’know, ‘Obsession’? It didn’t make any sense to me, and I thought that with maybe another look, I might...”

“Engage your brain? Possibly, possibly.” Miranda led her to the back, where the sculpture sat under a tarp. She grabbed Erica a chair, and pulled the tarp off. “There you go, look to your heart’s content. I’ll be around, working on ‘Fear’ and ‘Loathing’. I should probably sell them to the Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce.” She paused for a laugh, looked at Erica’s bemused expression, sighed, and said, “I’ll leave you with the rock.” She walked off.

Erica looked at the cube. It was big. Something about the way it formed a perfect cube made it seem bigger than just a lump of rock. But it didn’t seem to say, “Obsession.” It just said, “Big.” She leaned closer, trying to glean details. Perhaps it was something in the carving of the stone? Something in the texture?

She got up, walked around it, and sat back down again. Perhaps she needed to examine the whole thing, inch by inch...

After a while, Miranda tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey!” she said. Erica almost jumped. Miranda had changed into a slinky black dress, and Erica hadn’t even noticed. “Sorry to kick you out, but I’ve got a gallery opening in a few hours, and I can’t leave you in the house alone.” She gestured to the two-foot cube of solid rock. “You never know, you might walk out with this thing under your shirt.” Erica was able to chuckle at that one. “So is it making more sense to you now?”

Erica sighed and shook her head, feeling foolish. “I don’t get it any more than I did yesterday. Maybe I just don’t get modern art.”

Miranda smiled. “It’s not whether you get modern art, Erica. It’s whether modern art gets you.” She laughed loudly at that, but Erica just smiled in confusion.

At home, in bed, the sculpture seemed to mock her with its resolute refusal to be understood. It was just a big, square, rock, but Miranda kept insisting that there was a hidden meaning that Erica could unlock if she just spent the time and used her brains. But there wasn’t. There wasn’t! She was sure of it! She’d looked at it for hours, and there was nothing obsessive there!

She finally fell asleep around three AM, but her dreams were filled with the sculpture, grown to gigantic size (or maybe she’d shrunk), and she woke up bleary and unrested. She made the decision to call in sick, and head back to Miranda’s. Maybe one more day of staring at the sculpture would make a link between it and ‘obsession’ make some kind of sense.

When she got there, though, Miranda wasn’t there. The door was locked. Erica rubbed her brow in frustration. What could she do now? She couldn’t exactly leave without figuring out what was so important about the sculpture, but she didn’t know where Miranda was. Or how long she was going to be. Waiting was just silly.

A half-hour later, Miranda came up the stairs with a bag full of groceries, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Erica leapt to her feet when she saw her. “Hi!” she said. “I’m so glad to see you, I stopped by to—”

Miranda smiled, but somehow it looked...cruel. “Look at the statue, yes.” She nodded at the bag. “Could you hold this?”

“Sure!” Erica took the bag out of Miranda’s hand, allowing her to reach into her pocket for her keys. “So, yeah, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if, um...”

Miranda went into the apartment. Erica followed behind her. “Actually, it is getting kind of inconvenient, Erica. I mean, I do have work to do, and here you are, pestering me again to get a look at a piece that you really should understand by now. I don’t know if I have the time to indulge you today.”

Erica felt like she was going to cry. “But...but I called in sick from work, just to look at the piece, please! I have to look at it, I need to!”

Miranda bit her lip in contemplation. “I don’t know...you’d have to make it worth my while.”

Erica’s eyes widened. “I...I don’t have much money...”

Miranda chuckled. “I do. I killed last night at the gallery. But money wasn’t really what I was thinking about.” She pulled her jeans off. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “I was thinking that if seeing the sculpture was really that important to you, you might want to do something I like doing first.”

Erica’s face flushed. “I...I’m not into women.”

“I am. And I haven’t gotten any for months.” She sat down on one of the chairs, her legs spread lewdly.

“But...I...” she looked over at the sculpture, still hidden under the tarp, and then back over at Miranda’s cunt. “I really don’t want to do this, Miranda...”

“But you really do want to look at the sculpture, don’t you?” Erica nodded. “In fact, I think you used the exact phrase, ‘need to’. And this is something you have to do before you can look at the sculpture. Therefore, Erica,” she pointed between her legs, “this is something you really do want, even need, to do.”

Erica took a step forward. “Is...” she took another step, and knelt down in front of Miranda. “Is it going to make sense to me this time?”

Miranda grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face to Miranda’s waiting pussy. “Just think about it a little bit longer, lover.”

Erica ran her tongue along Miranda’s pussy lips, tasting warm musk. Thinking about it longer would be easy. It was all she could think of. Even now, as she sucked gently on Miranda’s clit, the only thing that was really important was ‘Obsession’. She needed to understand it, the need was as tangible as the fluids she lapped up from Miranda’s cunt. It had become all-consuming now, and she felt like she was close to a breakthrough. Miranda wrapped her legs around Erica’s head and rode her as Erica continued to lick. “That’s it, that’s a good girl, right there, oh, ohhh...”

Erica felt Miranda climax, and almost stopped to ask if she could see the sculpture now, but Miranda didn’t let go of her, and she knew that Miranda wanted more. Which meant that Erica had to give it to her. Because the only way to see the sculpture again was to please Miranda, and she needed to see the sculpture.

The next day, Erica was back again. Work hadn’t been happy about her calling in sick two days in a row, and Erica knew her excuses hadn’t been convincing. But the sculpture was more important. She felt like she was no closer to understanding what the ‘Obsession’ was than when she’d started, and spending six hours tongue-fucking Miranda yesterday had meant that she’d gotten a lot less time to spend looking at it.

When she walked in, Miranda was naked. She wasn’t even working on anything, just standing there, bent over a table, completely naked. “Back for more?”

“I just...I wanted to see the sculpture again. I hoped that you...I mean, we did a lot of that yesterday, and I thought that maybe...”

“Oh, I’m a little sore down there, Erica. That’s why I wanted to try something different. Come here.”

Erica walked over. “I...”

“Get down on your knees.”

Erica knelt down. “Do we...have to do this?”

“Oh, yes, we most definitely do.” Miranda wiggled her hips. “Now...kiss my ass, Erica.”

“I...I...”

“Oh, Erica, you spent six hours yesterday licking my pussy just to get twenty minutes to look at the sculpture. Is this really so much worse? Just lean forward,” Erica leaned forward, “and kiss.” Miranda’s full, shapely buttocks filled her vision, but in her mind, she saw only the sculpture as she pressed her lips against them.

Miranda pressed back against her. “Good girl,” she said. “Was that so bad?”

“N-no...”

“No, ma’am. I created that sculpture you’re so enamored with, Erica. Show a little respect, please.”

“S-sorry, ma’am.”

“That’s OK. Kiss again. Use your tongue this time.”

Erica licked her way along Miranda’s ass, unsure exactly how she’d gotten to this point, but knowing that she couldn’t stop now. It was too important to her. It was the most important thing in the world to her.

She spread Miranda’s ass-cheeks apart almost before she’d been told, and tongued Miranda’s asshole patiently. A part of her tried to remember that she wasn’t into girls, but she knew that thinking like that would keep her from seeing the sculpture, and not seeing the sculpture would mean that it wouldn’t make sense to her, and if it didn’t make sense, then her life didn’t make sense. So really, she thought, becoming an enthusiastic lesbian ass-licker was the only sensible thing to do.

Miranda moaned. “Good...ohhhh, good girl...”

“Have you forgotten the rules?”

Erica shook her head. “N-no, Ma’am.” She started peeling her clothes off. Yesterday, Miranda had forbidden her to wear clothing whenever they were alone together. “I—I just...” She dropped her shirt onto the floor. “I’m not sure I can keep doing this, Ma’am.” Her eyes were shadowed, exhausted with the effort of trying to understand so many new, strange concepts.

“Don’t be silly. You’ve learned a lot about Modern Art the last few days.”

“I...I know, Ma’am, but...” She stepped out of her jeans, leaving them puddled on the floor next to her sandals. “I’ve called in sick for the last four days now, my boss is threatening to fire me, I...I don’t know how I’ll make rent if I have to find a new job...” She could feel hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she undid her bra and tossed it onto the pile of clothes. “I want to understand, I really do, but it’s just so hard...” Her panties fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked. “I...I should go,” she said, realizing with a start that she’d planned to make that statement before undressing.

Miranda took her hand. “You’ll never get anywhere with that kind of talk,” she said, leading her once again to the tarp-covered sculpture. “I think you need a few more Art Appreciation Lessons.”

“N...” It was hard to say ‘No’ to Miranda now, especially with the thought that she might get to see the sculpture right away today. Maybe she’d get to look at it longer today, really get to grips with the piece. “I...n...I...” Miranda pulled the tarp off. Erica went silent.

“That’s right,” Miranda said. She went over to a box in the corner, pulled out a harness, and strapped it around her waist. She fitted a long, black dildo into the harness, gave it a good dollop of lubrication, and went back over to where Erica still hadn’t moved. “Bend over, girl. Put your hands on the sculpture. It’s alright, you can touch it.”

With a shivering moan of anticipation, Erica leaned in and pressed her hands eagerly to the stone, feeling its smooth, polished texture under her fingers. Leaning in this close, bent over and staring at it, the sculpture seemed to fill her entire field of vision, fill her entire world. She saw herself reflected in the polished stone, almost like she was trapped inside of it. The fake cock slipped into her, feeling so thick and hard and full, and as she felt Miranda pounding it into her, she realized how badly she needed to come. All the sexual tension of the last few days suddenly just crystallized in her brain and she needed to come so bad, needed to keep staring at the sculpture, needed sex and needed to understand and needed, oh so badly needed to be right here, right now, being fucked from behind while looking at the sculpture that was so important. Miranda was right. Nothing else was important but this, right here, right now, so thick, so hard, so...

“You understand even better now, don’t you, Erica?”

Erica stuck her tongue out and gave the smooth stone a long, lascivious lick. “Yes, Ma’am...”

Miranda pounded the strap-on into her even harder. “Good girl.”

Erica came. Hard.

The knock came again at the door. “Come in!”

Erica walked in, wearing a leather dog collar, a bikini, and nothing else. As soon as she closed the door, she took off the bikini. “I’m here, Ma’am. The delivery company let me go today.”

Miranda came up behind her and pinched her tits. “You don’t care, do you?”

“No, Ma’am. Only the sculpture is important.” Erica fell to her knees, shuddering with pleasure.

“And who created the sculpture?” Miranda walked around in front of her, presenting her ass to Erica to kiss.

“You did, Ma’am.” Erica kissed her ass reverently.

“Only I am important.”

“Only you are important.”

“Good girl.” Miranda turned around and pressed Erica’s face to her pussy. “I knew you’d understand Higher Art eventually.”