The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My trusty blue vibe finally gave out.

Talk about bang for your buck! I’d had her a dozen years, all the way back to high school when my crazy girlfriend Shirley managed to steal her from some sex store. How she got in at 16 and got out with two vibrators stuffed in her pants is still a mystery.

We were longtime, intimate sex partners that old blue vibe and me. And now she was kaput. I thought of burying her in the garden of my apartment complex—with appropriate ceremony—but thought better of it. No cold, dirty hole for her. Not after a lifetime inside my warm, dirty one.

So I boxed her up and put her away. She may not dance happily between my legs anymore, but she’d still do in a pinch. She still fit okay. I wasn’t that … uhh … stretched out—my real sexual encounters were few and far between. And I knew that even if my sometimes-date for the evening was unfulfilling, she’d be there waiting for me when I got home. Four inches of smooth, blue heaven.

Still, I needed a replacement. I was a buzz junkie and no shower nozzle or electric toothbrush was gonna do the deed the way it really needed to be done.

I had never been in an “adult boutique” before. Get real. As if a fancy name like “The Treasure Trove” was ever gonna fool anyone. It was a sex shop. And I was shopping for a new plastic girlfriend—one with three settings (low, medium and OMG), maybe a little longer (six inches would do the trick) and built to last.

It was an eye-opener. Hundreds of DVDs for any imaginable fetish, lubes in every flavor, plugs and rings for the boys, gaudy-as-shit jewelry and skimpy lingerie that looked like it had all been designed by Jack the Ripper.

But ohhhhhh, the vibrators! Must have been a bajillion of them. Bullets and eggs, bumpy and curvy, shapes and colors of every kind. I was just gonna go in there and grab the first one that fit my simple requirements, but it was like a candy store and I wanted all the candy! There was only one cavity I needed to fill anyway.

Rows and rows and rows. I mean, I could always come back if I felt more adventurous, but I knew what I wanted this time. I picked out the perfect one. Six inches long, silver and not too awfully expensive. This was an investment in my future, after all. Done. Let’s get you home!

Then something on the top shelf caught my eye. I almost giggled. Maybe I did. For in the back of my mind I could hear the words.

“Pick me.”

It was magnificent. The vibrator to outdo all vibrators. It wasn’t at all what I had come looking for. But I couldn’t pry my eyeballs off it. It was a monument to sex. Ten inches high and thick. Like way too thick. And way too long. It wasn’t all that pretty, really. It looked like a big dick, but no dick I’d ever come across, that’s for sure. It had that weird orangey color of those marshmallow circus peanuts. But its “head” was smooth and inviting. It stood on a base, proudly. There was a tiny remote that went with it so the “user” wouldn’t have to fumble for the knob. I knew all about that!

Then I saw the price tag. Oh, that was a downer. About five times more than I was willing to spend on a sex toy. Besides, I told myself, I’d never get that sucker in to begin with. It was huge.

“Touch me.”

I laughed out loud. That little voice was kinda freaking me out. Boy, did I need to get off! Talking to myself in my head in a sex shop. I’m not sure why, but the store was empty so I put down the silver vibe, reached up and … well, I began fondling that mass of sexual potential.

I ran my hands up and down its surprising softness, its subtle veins and ridges beneath that wondrously smooth helmet. I wanted to put it in my mouth and eat it. I didn’t realize how sex starved I was. I pinched my knees together. I was getting wet.

“Buy me.”

You bet your ass! I grabbed the empty box and carefully slid the monster inside. Then the remote. I was almost panting. I needed to try this baby out ASAP.

The old lady behind the counter didn’t even look up when I paid. In cash. I expected to be a little nervous actually buying something in this place. I wasn’t. I was impatient. I wanted to get us naked!

I couldn’t drive home fast enough. Like I had stolen something valuable and was going to get chased down to give it back. There was no way crazy Shirley would have been able to fit this giant in her pants. She would have looked like she was hiding a baseball bat.

By the time I got safely inside my apartment, however, reality hit. I had just spent hundreds of dollars on a new vibe I couldn’t use. Didn’t even really want. It was too damn big. It didn’t even look like a real cock or even a good fake one. It was a big blob of misshapen rubber.

What the hell was I going to do? Return it? I still needed to get off. I really, really needed to get off. And the prospect of having to do it manually was kinda depressing.

“Try me.”

Why not? Since I went to all this trouble, I should at least give it a try. Could I return it after giving it a test drive? Probably no, but I had already stripped down to my panties and climbed into bed, thankful that batteries were included.

I was giddy with excitement again. It felt like years, not days, since I had gotten myself off with my special friend. Now, I had a new friend—a ginormous friend—and I needed her to give me climax after climax.

My body was shaking, the anticipation was that great. I was talking aloud as I tested the buttons. “OFF-1-2-3.” I didn’t need to read the fucking instructions. She knew I knew how to do this. I slipped off my panties, propped up a couple pillows behind my back, hit the first button and pressed my new toy against my clit.

Whoa! My toes curled. They did! Low was definitely a high. I probably could have O’d right then and there and been happy to swear off men forever just from one buzzcum, but I had bought a $250, footlong jumbo hot dog—I wanted that baby in me!

I spread my legs, prayed to Jesus and pushed. Nothing. She was the width of King Kong Jr.’s fist and there was just no way in hell she was getting her luxury-size into my compact-size. No way. I figured maybe some lube would help, even though I was pretty freaking wet by now. I was always partial to “cool mint.” I swear I squirted enough jelly on that gargantuan phallus to squeeze a boa constrictor through a needle’s eye.

Ouch! She went in a little, kinda, sorta. I knew turning her up to setting 2 wasn’t gonna help, but I sure didn’t wanna turn her off either. I spread my legs wider, pulling now instead of pushing. I’m not the smallest woman in the world, so bending over and push-pulling that fat dildo into my tiny twat was pretty uncomfortable. I even tried to use two hands, feeling the insistent hum shoot up my arms.

She just wasn’t gonna fit.

It sounds stupid, but I began crying. Push, Brooke! The buzz felt so good on my clit, yet I was completely panic-stricken. She couldn’t go where she wanted.

“Ride me.”

Okay, this position was definitely not going to work. As much as I loved lying back in bed and letting my trusty blue vibe do all the work, this girl needed special attention. Her base was pretty wide with little suction cups on the bottom. I wiped away my tears and laughed to myself, imagining all the interesting places somebody could stick a 10-inch dildo. But, right now, I was desperate. No more screwing around.

She wouldn’t stick to the bed. And maybe if I was 50 pounds lighter and a gymnast I could have stuck her to the floor and done a split over her magnificence. Come on, Brooke! What are you gonna do?

“Ride me.”

Okay! I get it! I looked everywhere. I was going out of my mind with need. Then I found the spot. I pulled out one of my armless dining room chairs and straddled it. Perfect.

I licked her little cups and tried to stick her to the material on the seat, but there was no hold. Fuck it. The base was wide enough to keep her from tipping over if I put enough weight down on her. That I had. It was worth a try and I was willing to try anything by this point.

I gripped the chair-back and squatted. I slowly slid down on her.

Gahhh! It hurt like hell, at first, but the steady buzz tickled my puss enough to endure the discomfort. Besides … it was working. Inch by inch I swallowed her up. The head flared out slightly, so that it was at its widest, its thickest, its most agonizing.

Then … POP!

Gawdammit! The rush of pain followed by the gush of pleasure. Hello lover! I came quickly and deeply, pressing down harder between clenches. I impaled myself so fully I bet ol’ Vlad Tepes would have been proud. I took my six inches but it felt like six miles. I tried to slide up to start again, but the base lifted off the chair. She was clinging to my walls. I used my left hand to pull her out a few inches, bumping against her head. Oh, fuck Brooke!

Then down again. I came again.

It felt unbelievable. Worth every penny! Up and down and down and up. I was so lost in the barrage of orgasmic delight that I nearly forgot about the remote. I hit setting 2.

Whammo! I was a goner.

The next thing I remembered was feeling my arms wrapped around the chair and my sweet, wonderful vibe buzzing merrily on the floor. How in the world had she popped out? I had no clue. I had passed out.

I barely made it to my bed and fell asleep, cradling my new lover in my arms.

The next morning was a Tuesday. I needed to get up and go to work. Wow, were my legs sore. But my pussy was feeling pretty awesome. I got out of bed in a bit of a daze. I didn’t mind my job, but it was the first time I could remember that I totally dreaded going in. I wanted to stay and play.

“Ride me.”

I had to take a shower anyway, so it wasn’t like another spin on the merry-go-round was gonna make me any dirtier than I already was. I had dried cum all over the inside of my thighs. I hurried into the dining room and hopped on her as quickly as I could. No lube this time. I just slammed down on her and squealed from the ouchfuckingGodmmmmyes! I knew I shouldn’t turn the remote to setting 2 this time—passing out again wasn’t a very good idea.

I did it anyway.

By the time I staggered into work I was 40 minutes late. I hadn’t showered. I probably could have gotten to the office earlier but it took me 10 minutes to dig up a purse big enough to cram my godtastic sexmate inside.

It was freaking hard to concentrate at work. A couple of my friends asked me if I wanted to do lunch with them, but I had other plans. With most everyone in my department gone for an hour, I headed to the ladies’ room.

Should I do this? What if someone came in? Could I contain my squeaks and moans if I was interrupted mid-fuck? Maybe I should wait.

“Ride me.”

I had the strangest feeling. I can be as ditzy as anybody. I’m one of those people who needs to say the numbers out loud when I’m dialing a new phone number. But this was getting weird. I stared at my big, fat friend and could have sworn—I kid you not—that she was … well, talking to me.

Yeah, right. You’re just horny again, Brooke.

The logistics were going to be a little strange, but I thought it might work. I suctioned my lover to the top of the tank and climbed aboard the toilet, making sure to lock the freaking stall door (which I almost forgot to do). I spread my legs out on the seat and took the plunge!

My lunch hour lasted 90 minutes. And, miraculously, no one used the rest room.

I barely made it home. I didn’t need some little voice in my head telling me what to do. I saddled up. I must have cum 20 times. Seriously. Besides two pee breaks and glass of juice, I rode until dawn. Funny thing was, I didn’t think it was more than a little unusual, even for a buzz junkie like me, that I was spending more time getting my brains fucked out than … well, doing anything. There may have been a couple of moments, after a major wave of climaxes, when I figured it was time to dismount and get on with my life. But then that little voice returned.

“Ride Me.”

It was midday by the time I finally got around to calling in sick at work. Then I called in again on Thursday. My boss called me back, telling me I needed a doctor’s excuse if I was gonna miss any more time.

So I quit.

There was no fucking way I was gonna stop now! I was just getting started! If I wasn’t feeling the shudder through my hips from another orgasm, then I didn’t feel normal. I had to keep going, had to hold that feeling, had to keep my beautiful, perfect lover between my legs and stroke her for all I was worth.

I realized after three days that with the exception of a couple of glasses of orange juice and some carrots—which I had experimented with by sticking them up my asshole as I rode myself senseless—I hadn’t eaten a whole lot. And my fridge was bare.

So, I reluctantly—and I mean VERY reluctantly—dragged my ass out to my car and headed for the grocery store, my constant companion on the passenger’s seat. I sleepwalked through the store. I bought whipped cream, syrup, jam, peanut butter, cucumbers, more carrots, more juice … stupid things, really. I wasn’t looking for stuff to eat; I was looking for stuff to play with.

I was like a drug addict going through DTs. My hands were shaking so bad! My eyes were really blurry. I almost hit two cars and a shopping cart heading out of the parking lot.

“Ride me.”

Uh-oh.

I didn’t even question what it was anymore—that persistent voice in my head. Or that I might be going insane. Or a schizo. It all seemed very clear. It was Her. Her voice. And She wanted me to envelop Her again.

I yanked up my skirt, no panties obviously, and stuck Her to the seat. She practically came up to my tits. My head slammed against the roof of my car as I climbed up. I swerved right off the road. I didn’t bother with pulling over and stopping. I didn’t care that I was like five minutes from home. I needed Her inside me as far as She could go. Right now.

I managed to get back on the road and slid down on Her effortlessly. Goodbye, tight vagina. I frantically dug into my purse for the remote, skipped setting 1 and jumped right to 2.

I orgasmed all the way home. No one died.

It was Saturday. Maybe it was Sunday. My body was covered in sugary goop, every drop of cum my body could produce spent on the floor. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I had bruises on the bruises on the bruises on my knees. She had fucked me in the bathroom, on the kitchen table, up against the wall. I even managed to plop down on Her on the floor. But I was totally wasted. I was so exhausted I couldn’t even fall asleep. I just lay there on the floor in my bedroom twitching.

“Ride me.”

I shivered in horrified submission. I had to do it. I didn’t want to anymore. I had to. I could barely pull myself up, so I sat there on the floor on my hands and knees. I looked at Her with pleading eyes.

I had to ride. I crawled above Her again. One more trip to the moon. But I stopped. I was a gaping, fucked-out hole. I flopped back on the floor and just looked at her. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t understand why. The sun was setting outside my window. I waited. I peed right there on the rug.

I was in the dark. I couldn’t decide for myself anymore.

“Say it,” I whispered.

I waited and waited. It felt like an eternity. Finally, I let out an agonized moan. The truth struck me dumb. I didn’t ride for me. I rode for Her. What have I done? Say something!

“Tell me and I’ll do it!” I shocked myself with how loudly I screamed it. I was begging for guidance from a 10-inch-long rubber dong, but I no longer saw Her that way. She was Her. I had the unbearable urge to climb back on Her and give Her what she wanted just to make things right again. I had completely lost it. Did She not want me anymore?

I felt disconnected. I felt so alone. I needed to hear Her. I needed to hear Her tell me what to do. I needed to obey Her wishes a million times more than orgasming all of those orgasms I’d orgasmed for Her. Let me climb on top of You and give everything I have!

“Ride … Missssssstressss.”

Yes! I was totally out of my head. I hopped on Her so fast and buried Her so deeply it felt as if She was rammed all the way up my throat. I sprayed across the room as I came. I fell forward, breathless, still needy. I needed more and more and more! I humped like there was no tomorrow. There was no tomorrow. There was only now. There was only Her. We were never going to be parted. I was never going to be without Her.

She was my Mistress.

I fumbled for the remote … and pressed setting 3.