The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She was a hit and she loved it. Leona had uploaded the videos—for she had made a lot of them—and was an online sensation. Whoever said that pornography was a bad thing should be put in prison! Why is fucking and earning money from fucking such a bad thing? She liked it.

Leona paused the video and looked down at a small notebook she kept next to her computer. Rob was up again this week. She hadn’t seem him in a while, and people had really like their first video. Not that Rob knew anything about that video, or the money she was making from it. Leona thought that Rob’s reward and, indeed, that of all the boys and young men she fucked was to be with one hot MILF like herself. Let them mumble in the dark, for now. Eventually she would need to give actual quality.

Leona finished her lunch, another hamburger from the stand next to the street lamp, before standing. She dressed up in Rob’s favourite get up, set up the hidden cameras, and waited for him, all the time remembering what she was.

“I am a hot MILF. I am a hot MILF.” She repeated, her voice going from excited, to monotone, to utterly aroused.

“I am a hot MILF. I am a hot MILF. I fuck young boys. I make porn. I am a hot MILF. I am a hot pornstar. I am a hot MILF.” Her new reality flowed from her lips until she couldn’t think of anything else.

Jan and Don and Alexandra were watching their own pornography. It had been two months now, since Jan and Alexandra had started making their own erotic videos. Alexandra still did her monthly show, but her income was now mostly due to the erotic content she now provided. When Don realised what was going on, he threatened to abandon Jan for good. But Jan had been able to calm Don, and after they shared a healthy meal of fruit, the three of them shared more things than people are wont to.

They were naked, they were masturbating each other, and they had nothing in their minds but porn. They liked porn, and they liked making it, and they wanted more and more. Jan had abandoned his job as a retail clerk, and now focused solely on producing pornographic content. Don wasn’t there yet, but Jan knew that in time his boyfriend would soon think just like him.

The film they watched ended, and they ended with it. In time they managed to stand. Without words, without comments, they started to film a new one. Jan entered Don, and Don entered Alexandra. They were a train wreck in the making. They kept going for hours, changing positions, changing angles, changing styles. They spent each other out, drank water, and were back on it.

It wasn’t until that two of them passed out, exhausted and dehydrated, that Alexandra managed to crawl out of the room and stop the recording cameras.

The old man yawned audibly. When he opened his eyes there was a man in a black suit standing before him.

He almost fell off his high chair.

“May I help you?” The old man said when he pulled himself back onto the stool.

The man in black looked at his cart and then at the old man. He turned around and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

The old man stared as the man in black stopped being. A pigeon flew nearby and the old man turned his eyes towards it. He shooed it away, and then moved his eyes where he thought someone had been jus tknow.

“Was someone here?” The old man said to no one, completely forgetting about the man in black.

The boy had squirmed, and nodded, and whimpered. And she had loved it. He had moaned and begged and then screamed her name in adoration. And she had loved it.

Lady Selena had him in the other room right now. She could hear him singing his mantra and his hands rubbing over his cock. She was smiling, and wet. So wet. She had to lock her knees, lest her juices made the chair too slick for any friction to happen.

She finished the final touches, applying the make up on her face. She stood and felt the latex hug and rub all the right places. She almost fell down to her knees and worshipped her own reflection. Selena was as much a slut as she was a Domme.

Walking back into the room, standing tall in her heels and tight trousers with open crotch and little else, she smiled at her boytoy. Though, few could tell he was a boy at all. With the blonde wig, and the fake breasts, and that girly, girly uniform. She had found him on the street, like a stray dog, looking for a place to stay, for a home. She had found him-her one, at her feet. Fruit, domination, and a natural submissive side had made her dreams possible. She ran her fingers over his-her shoulders and smiled as no reaction came. Oh, how did Selena loved her slutty schoolgirl.

She stood before him-her, and pulled his-her eyes to meet hers. “What are you?”

“A dildo.” He-she said in a voice devoid of anythingn but arousal and devotion. And obedience. Obedience to spare, to teach and to give. Selena wondered if she could teach her slutty schoolgirl to be a good teacher for more slutty schoolgirls. The thought made her smile.

“Good girl.” Lady Selena said, and the slutty schoolgirl convulsed in a fit of near-orgasm.

“Good girls obey.” She-he whispered and went on with its self-programming.

Lady Selena let him-her go on for hours as she checked her growing collection of outfits. She had latex and leather, lace and velvet, nylon and lycra. Perhaps one day she could try encasement? What if there was encasement training. That would be so wonderful! The thought gave her a tiny orgasm.

Selena returned to her slutty schoolgirl, then tied him-her, and then used him-her as the human dildo he-she was.

“What are you?” She asked.

“A dildo.”

And nothing more.

“Now what?” Asked Alexandra one evening. She was wearing a tube top and short shorts.

“Whatever you mean?” Jan said, eating some fruit. He was wearing a thong.

They were fresh out of a recent shoot.

“I mean. What now? We have more money than we can do with, and we fuck all the time. But, what else should we do? Something new. Something different.”

“Your thoughts are a mess.” Jan said. He pushed the fruit cup towards Alexandra. “You need fruit.”

“I need fruit.” Alexandra said, her arms dropping to her sides.

“You should stop thinking.”

“I should stop thinking.” Alexandra repeated, putting some fruit in her mouth.

“Jan is the one who thinks.”

“Jan is the one who thinks.” Her eyes were far away.

“You are the slave. You are the porn actress.”

“I am the slave. I am the porn actress.” Her thoughts were gone.

“Porn actress only fucks.”

“Porn actress only fucks.” She was horny.

Jan smiled and kissed Alexandra on the lips. She kissed back. While Alexandra started to fuck herself silly once more, Jan walked back into his bedroom. He kicked Don on his buttocks. The collared man groaned awake.

“Move; we need your cock.” Jan said, and soon enough they had worked yet another masterpiece.

The old man looked at the rat, and the rat looked back. They shared a thought, and the old man broke into a cackle so loud that passerbys stared. He waved them and apologized.

“I am talking to a rat.” He said to no one and turned towards what could’ve been a potential client had she not been distracted by one of the other food vendors.

“Curse them. Curse their fake food. Curse their lies.” He muttered under his breath, his hand putting some of his sauce in his food. Well, not his sauce; his sauce had never had that special punch Annapurna’s has. He had tried to make it for so many years, until Annapurna herself taught it to him. How blind had he been in the past, thinking he could replicate Annapurna’s sacred sauce! How blind had he been that he didn’t even know he was trying to replicate her sauce.

“Oh, blessed be thee, oh grand Power That Be.” The old man prayed under his breath as the multicoloured liquid mixed into his many meals. He added some spices and salt and then sat back on his high chair.

The rat was back, and he looked at its eye until it laughed and scurried away. The lamplight overhead flickered and he looked at it. The light bulb panel was cracked, and he could see the bulb moving back and forth, held together by just one wire.

“It might fall.” He told no one.

“May I have a burger?” Someone said and the old man looked up and gave the new client what he wanted, and also fulfilled the wishes not even the client knew about.

Leona managed to keep her secret a secret for a long time until her husband found out. And her son, too. Being a hot MILF, famous in porn sites, wasn’t really a way to keep things secret. One day she had spied her son looking at porn sites, and she had had the aching hope that he would find it. She didn’t know why, but the thought of her firstborn suddenly finding out what a hot MILF she was, and that she was a porn actress, and perhaps masturbating to her image made her very hot. Sadly her son wasn’t one for pornography, so she had had to steer his way by making his friends send him videos of her. Leona had masturbated and made a great jerk off instruction video after discovering her son had many orgasms to her image.

And once her son found out about her, her husband soon did too. Her daughter found out too, but she kept quiet, much to Leona’s dismay. She knew the thought was wrong, but just like she had wanted her son to cum to her fucking, Leona wanted her daughter to cum to her fucking and, perhaps, join in on the fun. How had she started, she tried to remember? Perhaps she could introduce her daughter into the world of hot MILFs. Could her daughter be a lesbian? Oh, that would be so hot!

Leona tried to do things, but before her plans would be enacted they confronted her as she knew would happen, and she explained things to them: couldn’t they see she was one hot MILF? She was so hot, so horny, such a perfect cougar, that it just made sense to be an online sensation for young dicks to be stroked to. But they wouldn’t listen, at least not until one lovely dinner courtesy of the man on the street that they got off her back.

Best of all, her husband finally realised what a hot MILF she was. Oh, how lovely it was! But, there was one problem with that: if her husband fucked her, then she wasn’t a MILF anymore. Or was she? What were the rules for being a MILF? Leona didn’t know, and didn’t care. She still got to be fucked, and she still fucked her boys, and she still made a lot of money.

And now her son and daughter were so close, so very close that at nights moans and screams could be heard from their room. It made her salivate. It made her wet. It made her cum so hard when she uploaded the videos.

“I am a hot MILF. I am a hot MILF. I am a hot MILF.” She told the camera one night.

“I am a human dildo. I am a human dildo. I am a human dildo.” Her husband said next to her, a cup of fruit forgotten in his hand.

Jan realised Alexandra had been right. They needed to do something else, something more creative.

“Cut.” His voice carried, and the bimbo dressed in pantyhose and a latex version of Daisy Duke’s outfit stopped giving a footjob to Dan.

“Hmm... Jan?” Alexandra said, her breasts juggling in the tight latex top. “This was the best part. Like we scripted it. Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”

“I liked it.” Don whispered.

“It’s the same rubbish we have been doing for months. I thought you wanted me to change how I looked to see if that would help.”

“I know, I know. It just doesn’t really help.”

“Come on, Jan! I dyed my hair blonde! Fucking blonde. And you say this isn’t enough—”

“You need fruit.” Jan said, his eyes closed, his hand raised. He didn’t want to discuss things.

“I need fruit.” Alexandra and Dan said in unison and then walked out of the room in search of fruit.

Jan sighed. He looked to his right and saw an old photograph, black and white, sitting on a nearby table. Suddenly inspiration hit him.

When Dan and Alexandra came back to the room, Jan had rearranged the set, with queer lighting, drapery everywhere, and candles here and there.

“What’s all this?” Alexandra said with a dreamy smile.

“We are going to make art. Erotica, instead of pornography.”

Looking back, Selena thought she had made the right decision. She was free from debt, she was free of stress, and she was sexually liberated. She was what she wanted to be: a Domme, a submissive, a slut. She was a sexual woman, and she liked it.

Today she was the toy. Today she was the schoolgirl. Clad all in latex, clad in her uniform, she served her Mistress. Who this Mistress was, Selena couldn’t tell. But she was her Mistress, as the videos she had seen had commanded.

“Time for your lesson, girl.” The woman intoned.

Selena almost came.

“Time to break that dominant attitude from your system. We cannot have my slave being a Domme, can we?”

Selena shook her head. No, of course they couldn’t. Selena was a slave, a slut—not a Domme. How silly had she been before thinking she could ever be dominant. How good of her Mistress to show her those videos that taught her what she really was. She had been so nice that she took the responsibility of taking care of so many boytoys away from Selena. Selena wanted to thank her Mistress, but the ballgag wouldn’t let her.

She moaned instead.

“Now, you will listen to my voice, and watch my videos. And I will clean your mind from all those bad thoughts, okay?”

Selena moaned and nodded like she had been trained to.

“Good slut.”

Selena came.

The colours appeared before her.

The words swallowed her mind.

Today she was a slut. Tomorrow she could be a Domme again, perhaps. She was free. She had a Mistress today, and tomorrow she could have a puppygirl.

Selena liked her life.

“Can I have a small fruit salad?”

The old man frowned. He recognised this man before him. He didn’t know where from—or when—but something about him tickled at the back of his memory. Or did he really know him? Perhaps just a face he saw passing some time. Well, he got enough people that maybe he was confusing him with someone else.

“Comin’ right-up!” He smiled and with dexterity he served the man.

The man in black took a spoonful of fruit, tasted it, rolled it in his mouth, spit it in a napkin, put the napkin inside the cup of fruit, and then threw it inside a rubbish can right in front of him. He pulled a black handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his lips.

The old man stared angrily. “What? What is wrong!?” He said, a little too loudly. “The fruit is fresh, it is good!”

No one had ever done that. Not even before he had learned to prepare the Sauce. And the people who frequented streetside food stands were not usually that picky. They were hungry! Why else buy food on the street?

“A taste was all I needed.” The black man said, putting away his handkerchief. “I do not eat what was prepared with the sauce of Annapurna. It doesn’t agree with me. Unless she prepares it herself, that is. She has a special touch none of her children are able to reproduce.”

The old man’s skin turned from dark brown to white. His voice lowered to a whisper. “How do you know of that?”

“I know many things, Robert White.”

If he had been in a lesser physical state, the old man would’ve had a heart attack. “How do you know my name!?” His eyes moved as if expecting devils to come out of the manholes and drag him to Hell. Don’t be silly, he thought, you know Hell isn’t real.

“I know a great many things.” The man in black said, making a strange gesture and touching his black top hat.

The old man’s pupils shook with recognition. That sign wasn’t good. Wasn’t good at all.

“And I know of what you have been doing these past ten years. Very bad, Mister White. Very bad. This power has corrupted you. Annapurna’s mistake—or plan—I believe. Not everyone can do well under the strain of a Power That Be commanding them.”

“What... what does this mean? What do you mean?”

“Robert White,” The man in black said, his hand reaching to touch the man’s cart. “You have broken the covenant. You have broken the pact. You have brought unwarranted attention upon yourself, and abused of the gift from a Power.”

“What the fuck are you going on about!? The pact I made with Annapurna is a secret! Only she and I know about it!”

“And I know about it. I know how it goes and why I am here.” The man in black’s hands rested on the hot surface of the car.

The old man’s lips quivered. “I used it as I was told to use—”

The old man fell silent. He looked around; he extended his arms and frantically started touching the air where his cart used to be. “What? What the... what the fuck?” His cart was nowhere to be found.

“You misused the powers given to you and your fellow cooks brought this to my attention. I saw it fit to bring the Nothing upon you. No more Sauce, no more knowledge on how to do it. Just a memory of what you were, to drive you mad and unimportant to society.” The man in black fixed his black spectacles. “You will remember me not, Bob White.”

And he turned to walk away.

The old man started to shout, to scream, to shake his arms and look for his cart. “You motherfucker! I am going to kill you, you know? I am going to find you! No... no! I am going to find The Box... The Box will tell me how to find her! I am going to find Annapurna and I will get another car—”

The man in black’s face was inches away from the old man’s. What... he was yards away, the old man thought.

In a voice older than Everything that has ever been the man in black said: “I can turn you to Nothing, Bob White. I can make you Nothing. But I won’t. And you won’t call Annapurna, nor will you find The Box, nor will the Stranger heed your call, the Gorgons will ignore you, the Artist will laugh at you, and most definitively the Postman will never send your letters. You misused the Powers; you brought attention upon yourself at the worst possible of times. The Powers that Be are stirring, and you forced the hand of your brothers, the Children of Annapurna.” The man in black waved his arm towards the group of food stands some distance away.

The penny dropped.

The old man suddenly realised. “No. It cannot be... they... they were? We are? Why didn’t they accept me, then!?”

“Because they knew what kind of fool you were. Congratulations Bob White, you will not see the day the Powers That Be stir. You are a lucky man.”

The old man blinked and there was no one there. He looked around and didn’t see his cart. He remembered it had been removed by someone, but couldn’t recall by whom. Frantically, angrily, he reached for the rubbish bin nearby and found some of the fruit. He could see the shine on it, the lovely, tasty shine—the Sauce, the spices that had given his food that mind-bending taste.

He knew what to do.

“Oh, no, no, no. I won’t go like this. I have nothing without the Sauce, I need the Sauce or... or...” The old man grabbed the fruit and pressed it in his hand. He allowed the resulting mush to fall to the ground and he began to draw something on the ground, a symbol. He heard shouting, but didn’t lift his gaze. He heard screams, and didn’t lift his head. He had to call her, without her he was nothing. Something had made him forget how to make the Sauce. He needed it. The yells increased, and at last he saw it, the floor was flickering with that sickly yellow light.

The old man looked up and saw the lamp nearing, falling on him.

“I warned you.” The man in black said, his hand touching where a lamppost used to be.

The last thing the old man saw was the stares of those he had not know to be the same as him.

The other food vendors shook their heads and ignored the sound of the man being crushed.