The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Oooooh, gaaawddd, Jeff,” I murmured softly as my lover’s strong powerful arms gripped me tightly, holding me pinned. His touch was so firm, and strong, yet somehow strangely gentle. My hips surged forward, seeking out his manhood, which stood out from him, hard and ready for action. My clit throbbed furiously with need, my toes curled, my every nerve ending on fire. I was teetering on the edge, at the cusp of what I somehow felt would be the greatest fucking orgasm of my life—

And I nearly scream in frustration when my eyes open, and I find myself lying in bed, alone, the alarm clock blaring at me like a harpy from hell. Figures. The best damn sex I’d had in years... should have known it was all just a dream. I remembered Jeff, actually. Nice guy, tall, heavyset, like a defensive end, with muscles on top of his muscles. And the nicest guy you’d ever wanna meet. Blonde hair, blue eyes, lightly bronzed skin, and a jawline that seemed to have been chiseled in stone. Better yet, he was kindhearted, smart, funny, a snappy dresser, and an all-around nice guy.

He was also, unfortunately, as gay as the day is long. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, we all have our own ‘preferences’. Just makes it damned annoying when you’re trying to find a date.

Groaning softly, kicking off the rest of the covers, i sat up, staring blearily at the hated time piece that snatched me from my dream lover’s embrace at precisely the wrong moment. My thighs were slick, and my bed sheets would probably need to be changed. I was tempted, sorely tempted, to slide back into bed, close my eyes, and try and return to that moment of bliss... but I remembered all too well why I’d set my alarm for god-early in the morning in the first place. I had a job to do. A quick, moderately chaste shower, a quick dressing, and I was out the door.

And then I returned, picked up my special camera that I’d forgotten and left on the dresser, and took off again.

I arrived at the mansion at the corner of Remington and State at precisely one minute past three AM, about four minutes before my target was due to arrive. It was a cold night—not frigid, the way the weather had been the last several weeks, but certainly not warm enough to fool you into thinking winter was over. I pulled my battered old fedora down over my ears and wrapped my crumpled old trench coat all the tighter, in hopes of conserving my body heat. In this day and age, it seemed almost cliché to hide in the bushes, waiting for your quarry to walk by for you to snap pictures of them. And yet, here I was, crouched down, watching the windows of the west wing through my telescoping lens. waiting for any sign of...

Action.

Grinning, I focused in and started snapping pictures like crazy. The client, one Fredrick Menlo Curnow, had hired me to keep tabs on his wife, whom was suspected of sleeping around. Not my usual cup o’ tea, but, well, my cash flow had dried up to a mere trickle, and beggars can’t be choosers. Besides which, it was good money, and aside from a bit of a chill, and the irritation of missing a few hours’ sleep, this was definitely the easiest job I’d taken in a while.

I glanced down at my watch as my quarry slid down the trellis, making her way across the grounds to the garage. Five after three, on the dot. I sighed inwardly. For the past two weeks, I’d been following Mrs. Curnow around town, learning her movements, studying her routine. For a young attractive socialite married to a much older gentleman, she actually lived a rather mundane life, spending more time doing charity and relief work that hitting the malls. It was almost enough to shatter my cynical outlook on life and people in general... almost. As Mamma Sanford always used to say, if it looks or sounds too good to be true, it usually is. Indeed, the old adage was proved correct when, almost by accident, I’d spotted her leaving the mansion in the middle of the night last week a few hours after I’d ended my surveillance, thinking her at home asleep. Since that night, I’d changed my sleeping patterns and began pulling a night time watch instead.

The young woman pulled out of the garage then, the lights of her black Porsche turned off with the engine running idle. Just like clockwork, I mused again, snapping picture after picture. As the blonde heiress drove off, finally turning on her headlights a block away from the house, I sprinted across the road to my own car. Not nearly as flashy, my beat up old sedan more than made up for its looks with its dependability. Heh. Not to mention the few ‘extras’ I had installed, I thought with a smirk, starting the engine. A quick flick of the dashboard display revealed a radar tracking screen, showing the location of the tracker I’d managed to plant in the undercarriage of Mrs. Curnow’s car.

Of course, since I followed her two nights ago, I already know where she’s going, I thought to myself, turning a hard right, taking a short cut to my quarry’s final destination. I had to speed through a few yellow lights, and bump the speed limit a bit to arrive with enough time to get set up. This was the tricky part; after days of checking and poking and prying I’d managed to learn absolutely zip about the person Mrs. Curnow was meeting up with. Tonight, that was going to change. Tonight, I was going to blow this secret wide open. Squatting down in the shrubbery across from the simple brownstone house, I pulled my camera, and readied myself for her arrival.

She didn’t disappoint. Within three minutes of my settling in, my quarry pulled up, driving up into the driveway as I resumed snapping pictures. As before, she, or perhaps the person she was meeting, opened the garage door, allowing her to drive her car inside where it would be safely concealed from prying eyes. Well, prying eyes other than mine, I amended, snapping a close up of her leaving the vehicle just before the door slid closed. Giving her and her would-be lover time to get situated, I sprinted quickly and stealthily across the lawn, moving carefully up to the side of the house, near what I assumed to be the bedroom window. The lights were off, but I’d brought my night vision lens with me, and after a simple adjustment, I was able to peer inside.

And... wow. That... was not what I’d expected at all.

Veronica Anne Gibson-Curnow, happily married wife and philanthropist, sat in the middle of a large four poster bed, vigorously fucking the ever lovin’ shit out of a hot, statuesque naked redhead with a double-ended dildo, working it in and out of her partner’s pretty pink snatch as if her life depended on it. At least, I assumed it was Veronica Curnow. The woman was likewise nude, aside from a metal spiked black leather collar, and a matching black leather bondage mask covering her face. In fact, the only way I knew for sure it was here was the mane of platinum blonde hair billowing out from the back of the mask, and the gold nipple rings which, in digging up her background, I found out she had. It was only then that I noticed the awkward way she was sitting, with her arms behind her. Fuck! Her wrists! The redhead handcuffed them behind her back!

I shook my head in disbelief. The little miss all-American good girl was a closet lesbian with submissive tendencies? Well, I could understand why she would want to keep something like that a secret from her husband. Still... it didn’t really click for me. I’d done a pretty thorough job checking into the girl’s background, spoken to friends of hers from her school days, and there’d never been the slightest inkling of an attraction to other women,. She and her husband had been married for five years, and he’d only recently began to suspect something was wrong. By all accounts, she was blissfully happy being with her husband, and the sex between them was, in his words ‘fucking awesome’.

So... what is this all about? I pondered, idly snapping my pictures. If you’re happily married to a successful rich businessman with a few billion dollars, why throw it all away on a fling? I sighed heavily, shaking my head. I actually felt bad about this. I know, I know... Miss Cynical Ass Bitch who always thinks the worst of everyone anyway is sad that she was proven right. Still... I dunno. Both the client and my target struck me as the kind of couple that truly had something...

SHIT! I winced slightly as my arm bumped against a rake, leaning up against the side of the house. Then winced again as the metal tines scratched along the edge of the stucco house, sounding ever so much like fingernails on a chalkboard, before banging against a couple of empty metal garbage cans a few feet away. I stood there, frozen, hoping against hope that the two women had been too deep in the throes of ecstasy to notice my little faux pas. I glanced up at the window, then groaned, finding the masked visage of the girl I’d been trailing for the last two weeks staring directly at me. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I pulled the SD card from my camera, slid it into the hidden seam in my trench coat, and turned to run back towards my car.

And nearly ran smack into the redhead.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” she said, arms in the pockets of her bathrobe. “A pretty little kitty too curious for her own good?” She smirked, raising an eyebrow at the camera hanging around my neck. “At first I thought perhaps you were a cat burglar... or maybe a Peeping Tom. Ah, but I think you’re a different breed of pussy altogether!”

Giving her my best scowl, eyeing the lumpy shape hidden inside her pockets, I replied. “Well, considering what I saw going on inside your bedroom, I expect you’re the authority on pussy around here. Anyway, I’d like to discuss it further, but I just remembered somewhere I need to be...” As I started to walk away, she responded with a rejoinder of her own.

“You’re quite right,” the redhead stated, withdrawing an all too familiar box from her pocket, pointing it at me. “There is somewhere you need to be right now... in my bedroom!” I tensed, preparing to run, to dive, to perform all kinds of evasive maneuvers to avoid what I knew was coming. Unfortunately, the woman reacted before I did, sending out a pair of darts into my chest—along with the accompanying twenty thousand volts of electricity needed to subdue a raging rampaging tiger, let along the ‘pretty little kitty’ Red viewed me to be. As I sank to the ground on the fast track to unconsciousness, I had just enough presence of mind to kick myself for taking this so-called ‘easy’ job.

Easy my ass. I should have stayed home in bed...

Awareness of a sort returned a few minutes later, and I found myself lying on the self-same bed I’d observed the talented twosome engaged in their version of the horizontal mambo. My head felt funny, funnier than it usually did after awakening from a stun gun attack. Sparkles seemed to dance in my vision, and the world left strange trail-like after images whenever I turned my head. That, and the giddy feeling I felt told me that I’d been drugged... and I really needed to get some of this shit from my captor once this was over the next time I planned to go to a rave party. I was really feeling floaty, and nice, so I wasn’t exactly a surprise that I’d pretty much forgotten about the seriousness of my predicament when Scarlet and Miss Gimp stepped into view.

“Well now,” the auburn beauty purred softly, leaning forward to stare deep into my brown eyes with her own green ones. “How are you feeling now, my dear? I trust that I wasn’t too rough on you?” I merely giggled.

“Naw... I’m fine. Better ’n fine, really. I’m Grrrrrrreeeeat!” I replied, before bursting into laughter again. I was imitating Tony the Tiger, and since Red kept referring to me as a cat, that response struck me as utterly hilarious! My laughter finally died down after a moment, and I grinned up stupidly at my captor. “Soooo... um... what’s going on here? Why can’t I move? And why do I feel cold?”

“Oh, that’s because you’re naked, and all tied up,” she responded matter-of-factly, running a long slender finger along my inner thigh, raising goose bumps as she went, and by gum, she was absolutely right. I really WAS bare assed naked! Not that that was a bad thing, per se, it just felt like something that I should be concerned about. Yanno, like... when did I get naked? And why? After all, I was on... some kind of... mission... or something. Wasn’t I?

The question, and rational thought, was momentarily swept away as Red’s questing finger slid across the peaked little pearl at the center of my being, causing my eyes to cross and my toes to clench. She chuckled at my reaction, a soft dark sound promising all manner or naughty evil things. “Oh, yes, we’re going to have lots of fun together, you and I,” she said with a Cheshire Cat grin. “But first... I need to know who you are and why you were snooping around outside my window—”

“That’s a dog’s name,” I blurted out, giggling again, catching her completely off guard. She gaped at me, blinking for a moment.in confusion.

“What?”

“You said I was snooping... that’s Charlie Brown’s dog!” I replied seriously, before bursting out into giggles again. Scarlet rolled her eyes pulling a small red gem from her pocket.

“Well, at least I know the drug I gave you has your mind nice and open,” she murmured softly, holding out the sparkly red gem, dangling from an equally shiny sparkly gold chain. It captured my gaze immediately, and I couldn’t help but coo at the sight of it. It was SOOO pretty! And sparkly! “Now, girl, I want you to watch the gem, watch it sparkle and shine as it twists and turns, catching the light just enough to show off it’s perfect luster. It’s perfect shine... Let it relax you... and draw you in... deeper.. and deeper... and deeper...”

I smiled wider. It really was a perfect gem. It was the most perfectest gem I had ever seen! And the red... just like the Red holding it, seemed to just fill my vision... and my mind. It was hard to think of anything else but the red... and the Red... one overwhelming my mind with pretty pretty sparkly sparklies... and the other, bombarding my brain with words and words, questions, and statements, scooping up the slippery liquid thoughts from my mind as they leaked like drool from my mouth, and the steadily drip drip drip down my legs from what felt like a tender female tongue deep in my womanly place...

“What’s your name?”

“Anastasia Sanford... but call me Stacy, or I’ll kick yer ass...”

Grin. “What were you doing here?”

“Mmmm... taking pictures. With my camera.” Frown. “Not sure where it went through...”

“Never mind. Why were you taking pictures?”

I moaned again, shaking my head. I didn’t want to answer, but my pussy and my mouth, and the mouth on my pussy, wanted me to. “Someone... paid me to.”

Rolling her eyes. “Okay. WHO paid you to take pictures of me?”

“Nah... not you...” So slippery now, so hot. Getting hotter. “Her. Mrs. Curnow...her husband hired me... to follow her...”

A soft gasp from the background, from Mrs. Curnow, I would guess. The sensation between my thighs paused for a moment, giving me half a second to clear the cobwebs. Like an epiphany, I realized with a start that I was in trouble... entranced, at least partially, helped no doubt by the chemical cocktail racing through my system. I was blabbing faster than I used to when Mamma Sanford threatened to tan my hide with a bundle of switches.

“Hmmm... Curnow... I know that name from somewhere,” the redhead murmured softly, glancing at the masked blonde. “Roni-slave. What’s your husband’s name?”

“His name is Fredrick Menlo Curnow, Mistress,” roni-slave replied in a flat empty tone that bespoke volumes.

“Fredrick Curnow?” the scarlet haired domme exclaimed. “As in Governor Fred Curnow?”

“Yes, Mistress,” roni-slave answered. “He is my husband.”

“Ah, fuck,” Red hissed, shaking her head, momentarily forgetting about me, giving me a few more precious seconds to fight through the fog. “Of all the damned luck.... I picked the wife of the most important man in the state to brainwash and enslave into a pleasure toy!” Frowning, she sat there, pondering furiously. “Wait... wait a second. He suspects you are cheating on him, which is why he hired her,” she said slowly, pointing at me. “He doesn’t have any proof yet... otherwise Little Miss Snoopy here wouldn’t have been taking pictures.” He frowned reversed, becoming a predatory grin. “Which means the only ones who know the truth are the three of us in this room. And I control you both, so you won’t be saying anything that I don’t want you to say, will you?”

“No, Mistress,” roni-slave replied.

“I will,” I blurted out, cursing the lack of brain-mouth barrier for the moment. Whatever I’d been dosed with must have a really powerful truth agent mixed in. “Sorry, I hadn’t meant to say that out loud!” I replied again. DAMMIT! “I’m really fucked up in the head right now,” I babbled yet again as Red peered down at me, focusing her attention back on me once more.

“Looks like someone is trying to resist,” she said with a chuckle. “Interesting. You have a lot more will than sweet little Roni-slave here did. I broke her easily enough with just the gem alone, and yet you’re fighting not only the trance but the drug affecting you as well.” She snapped her fingers, and Mrs. Curnow went into action, kneeling back down between my thighs again. “Let’s see if you can still resist while my slave slut licks you into a mind-bending orgasm!”

“Aaahhhhh.. gaaaaawwwdd!” I groaned, arching my back, though at this point I wasn’t sure if it was towards the girl’s talented tongue or away! I did NOT swing that way, not by a long shot. I batted strictly for the home team, and was proud of it. But... it had been a long time since I’d scored, and DAMN the masked blonde was really throwing me a curve ball. She was way past third base, and only a few laps from home, and if I didn’t act soon, I would definitely be out at the plate!

“Now, now, Stacy dear,” Red cooed softly, adding to my pleasure/torment by working my peaking little nips, “be a good girl and just submit to me. Submit... you know you want to... you need to. Just let go... become mine... and I promise to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt in your entire life!”

“Uuggghnnnnaaa...” I gurgled, eyes crossing, toes clenching tightly, as I felt the first tremors of impending release. I was fading here, and fast. I was strong willed, and resistant, yes, but I’d never been drugged to the gills, tranced, and licked into submission before. If I came my brains out right now, i could, quite possibly, quite LITERALLY cum my brains out. I might very well become Scarlet’s loyal, obedient, submissive little lesbian fucktoy. And I would revel in every satisfying and glorious moment of it...

“Aaahhh... oohhh... fuuuccckkk,” I keened, feeling myself reach the edge, the top, the apex. It was all downhill from here. This was the moment of my demise, the moment that would define the rest of my existence. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath—

And felt the knots holding my hands tied to the bedpost finally FINALLY pull free!

With a savage heave, I sat up, head-butting my would-be Mistress, cold-clocking her, totally stunning her. A double-fisted follow-up sent her down for the count, pitching her over the edge of the bed to the carpeted floor down below. Stunned by the sudden violence, unsure what to do without her Mistress there to guide her, Veronica sat there, staring at me, completely deer-in-the-headlights frozen... but at least she hadn’t attacked me, or tried to run.

My libido was cursing me a blue streak at being YET AGAIN left unsatisfied, despite the dire consequences that would have entailed. “Mrs. Curnow, can you untie my legs please?” I asked, my voice raspy with unfulfilled desire. She continued to sit there, staring at me, unmoving. “Dammit woman, will you get off your ass and untie me?” I yelled, letting my frustration show. She yelped, snapping into action, quickly working at the knots holding my ankles in place. Sighing softly, wincing as I rolled my foot a few times, letting the circulation resume, I looked down at the poor girl. Abused by some psycho, brainwashed and used for pleasure, I had no idea how much of what had happened to her she actually knew about. Some evil mind controllers preferred to leave their victims with no memory of their actions while under their control, making them simply forget what had happened.

Others, however, preferred the additional torment of having their helpless thralls know precisely what was happening, yet be unable to stop them. Back before I left the force, I remember working such a case, where, after taking down the perp, the victim was so emotionally destroyed by what she’d endured, she promptly committed suicide the moment she regained control of herself. Red, lying unconscious on the floor, bleeding through her broken nose, struck me as something in between the two extremes... occasionally cruel, but not cruel for cruelty’s sake. Staring at the poor masked girl before me, I truly hoped she was one of the former, not the later.

Deciding to play tit for tat, I swiftly bound and tied the admittedly beautiful redhead to her own bed, leaving enough slack in the right wrist for her to, eventually, work her way free... assuming the police weren’t too bothered to come by and haul her away. I’d leave it up to my clients to decide how to proceed from here. Frankly, all I wanted was to drop Mrs. Curnow back off to her hubby, hand him the pictures he’d paid for, get my bonus, and go back home to grab some shut eye.

“C’mon, Princess,” I murmured taking the recalcitrant housewife by the hand, leading her towards the door, and to freedom.

“...and then we came straight back here,” I finished, lounging back in my recliner, my head down between my legs. The drug had worked its way out of my system by now, leaving behind only a large headache. “It seems that removing the mask snapped her out of her trance, which was a good thing because I was really in no condition to drive. After I calmed her down and explained what was going on, we got dressed and made our way back to the garage. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived back here at the mansion.”

“I see,” Governor Curnow said gravely, tapping his index finger lightly against his mustache. “Well, Miss Sanford, I simply cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done. Thanks to you, I have my wife back.... truly back. I don’t know how I can ever repay you!”

“Just give me the rest of my fee, plus an extra seven hundred to replace my camera, and we’ll call it square,” I replied, with a groan, getting to my feet. “Oh. and a ride back home, if you don’t mind? I left my car back at the redhead’s house. Speaking of which, are you going to contact the police to go by and pick her up?”

“Yes, yes,” he replied dismissively, “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. Now, where are those pictures you mentioned?”

“I lost the camera when the bitch tazered me, but I did pull the memory card,” I replied, reaching into my pants pocket. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” he replied, snapping it between his fingers, tossing the pieces into the trash. He then took an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to me. Frowning, I opened it and leafed through the stack of bills.

“Um, excuse me, your Governorness,” I replied with a scowl, “but this package seems a bit light to me. This is about HALF of our agreed upon amount. You might want to recheck your math.”

“Actually, Miss Sanford,” he countered, “I believe the amount I gave you is more than satisfactory.” He smiled, a predatory grin not unlike the one I’d gotten from the redhead earlier. “I’m afraid if you want to renegotiate, you have to have something of value worth trading. And since you’ve already turned over the memory card containing those pictures of my wife—”

“Oh? You mean this memory card?” I asked, removing the real one from my trench coat. I grinned at his stunned look. “Do you think you’re the first politician I’ve ever dealt with? I might be just another pretty face to you, but Mamma Sanford didn’t raise any fools.” I pulled back as he reached out to grab it, shaking my head. “Sorry Governor. If you want this, you’re going to have to renegotiate.”

“You bitch!” he growled, angrily, slamming a fist down hard. “You think you can blackmail me? The Governor of this state?”

“Blackmail’s such a dirty word,” I said with a smirk. “Now, the way I see it, you love your wife. You care for her a great deal. But, you also care a great deal about your position as a public official. You’d rather cut a deal than have something scandalous leak to the newspapers. And before you start making a bunch of threats you’ll just regret later,” I added, holding up a hand to forestall his angry tirade, “let me just say that I fully intend to turn over these pictures to you... as long as we come to an agreement.”

Growling, defeated, he sat back down, laughing ruefully. “All right. Well played. Okay. I’ll give you the rest of the money we agreed upon in exchange for the memory card containing those photos of Veronica. Do we have a deal?”

“Actually, I have a counter proposal for you,” I replied. “You keep the money, and I hold onto the pictures for a while, for safe keeping. I agree not to pass them on to the press, and in return, if I call again one day for a favor, you grant it. How’s that sound?”

“Favor? What kind of favor?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I replied with a yawn. Damn, I needed to get home soon before I collapsed. “Being a private detective is all about favors... doing a solid for a pal and having him do one for you down the line. Having a high ranked public official owing me a favor will come in handy.”

“All right. But what’s to prevent me from having you killed once you leave this office?” he said with a grin that sent shivers down my spine. “You know... hypothetically speaking.”

I swallowed, playing my trump card. “Hypothetically speaking, within a week of death, or an ‘unexplained disappearance’ a certain encrypted file in a certain computer database will automatically send copies of those pictures to all the major newspapers in the nation, as well as the TV news and MSNBC. The reason why my camera costs seven hundred dollars to replace is because it transmits a copy of the images wirelessly to my office computer.” I tossed the memory card onto his desk and walked to the door. “You can have the hard copy if you want, Mr. Governor. I have plenty of copies.”

So it was that I arrived back home, slipping under the covers of my bed just as the sun peeked up over the horizon. I was sore, horny, and more than a little pissed. off. Two weeks of work for a lousy thousand dollars? I grumbled to myself, sliding a sleeping mask over my eyes to shut out the glare. I shoulda stayed in bed. Just barely enough to make it worth it. Still, I can pay my rent, pick up a few groceries, and splurge on a night on the town again... as long as it’s nothing too fancy.

The most important part was surviving the encounter with Curnow. I knew better than to take a job from a politician, especially one with as much clout as him. Politicians are always bad news. Luckily the guy’s a piss poor poker player... can’t tell when a girl’s bluffing. The camera I’d lost was a good one, but definitely not that high end. Wireless internet transmission? Yeah, right. As if! Still, it would keep him off my back and out of my hair. And, worst case scenario, the bastard owed me a favor.

Ah, well, I thought dreamily as I felt exhaustion and unfulfilled desire begin to overtake me, all things considered, it could have been worse. At least there were no lasting effects from my little nocturnal adventure. Closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep, slipping a hand deftly underneath my waistband as I began to dream of a beautiful blonde girl with a truly amazing tongue...