The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Dr. Holsack will see you in a moment,” the pretty receptionist said. She smiled at me over her fashionable red-plastic glasses, her Secret’s choker adorning her neck. “You can have a seat over there,” she said, pointing to two high-backed, very waiting-room looking chairs. I decided that they didn’t look too comfortable and continued to stand instead.

“Pardon me,” I asked, and the receptionist looked up from her appointment calendar, “are you a Slut?”

“Yes I am,” she replied, “would you care to fuck me?” Her tone was even and polite, but I could see the lust in her eyes.

“No thanks, just curious.” Getting distracted wasn’t what I intended right now. “Do you know if Dr. Holsack is a Slut?”

“I don’t believe so, sir, she has never asked me to have sex.”

“Do you often have sex with your employers?”

“My last three employers all fucked me very thoroughly on a regular basis.”

“I see,” I said. At that moment, the intercom buzzed.

“Yes, Dr. Holsack?”

“I’m ready for my one o’clock, Julia,” a voice on the other end said.

“I’ll send him right in,” Julia replied. She looked up at me mischievously. “The doctor will see you now.”

“Thank you,” I said. As I passed her, I couldn’t resist. I leaned over and gave her a long kiss which involved much tongue work. Julia responded enthusiastically. The moment of temptation over, I broke the kiss and walked calmly through the door ahead of me and into the main office.

The walls had a nice wood grain finish, and the furniture was warm and comforting. All that one would expect in the office a leading social psychiatrist. Dr. Holsack was waiting for me behind her desk. She wore a white lab coat, which surprised me a bit, but did lend her an air of seriousness. Her glasses were thin and functional, and her hair was pulled back into a severe braid. A Secret’s choker adorned her neck. I lightly touched the field surrounding it, and found that the subconscious commands were deeply rooted, but had not yet been triggered.

“Dr. Holsack,” I said, “I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”

“Not at all,” she replied. “When you start waving around the kind of grant money you can support, people tend to listen to you.”

“But you don’t really need the money, now do you? ‘The Phenomenon of the Slut’ is a remarkably well-selling book, considering its rather technical nature.”

“I guess people want to hear what I have to say.”

“Well, you are the undisputed leader in social psychiatry, are you not?”

“People tend to exaggerate.”

“’Psychoanalyst Monthly’ listed you as one of the top five minds in the entire field.”

“You’ll notice I keep no copies in the waiting room,” she said with a half smile. “Now that we’ve established my credibility, would you mind telling me what you wanted to see me about.”

“Well, it’s about ‘Phenomenon of the Slut,’ actually,” I replied.

“What about it?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s very thorough and engrossing, but it is completely wrong.”

“Oh really,” Dr. Holsack replied, more amused than annoyed. “And just what make you say that?”

“Well, for a start, the idea that the Slut phenomenon rose out of a reaction to radical feminism coupled with a slew of vaccinations against venereal diseases... it’s just too thin a premise to explain how all these women just one day decided to be Sluts.”

“And I assume that you have a better explanation.”

“Not a better one, just the right one.”

“And what explanation is that.”

“I did it.”

This took her aback. Her eyes widened and she looked at me as if I had suddenly grown a third eye. ”You did it,” she said after a moment.

“That’s right, it was entirely my fault.”

“You know, normally I don’t treat schizophrenics.”

“I assure you I am quite sane, Doctor. I am not surprised you don’t believe me; I know that I wouldn’t believe me if I hadn’t done it.”

“Well, I’d be very interested in hearing about how you single-handedly caused the most wide-spread social attitude change since the birth of feminism.”

So I started. I did cheat a little bit, holding her attention with a small tweak of a mental thread, just so she wouldn’t interrupt me. I told her about finding the book, about Kirstin, and Jen, and Sky and Kim. I told her about designing the Secret’s choker, and about my encounter in the woods five years later. “It was shortly after that that I bankrolled the Pink Salami’s,” I continued. “They’re a rock band, you may have heard of them. At any rate, with my mental fields it didn’t take much doing to make them quite successful. Then, I slipped the codephrase into the chorus of one of their songs. That was twelve years ago, in Cleveland.”

“The first of the Sluts,” Dr. Holsack muttered.

“That’s right, I’m impressed you were able to trace it back that far. At any rate, the whole thing snowballed from there. In the meantime, I had every woman who wore a Secret’s choker all to myself, or to share with anyone I chose. But, debauchery only goes so far. After you’ve had every Hollywood film star doing your own private pornographic film, your appetites tend to wind down. But, now I’m rambling.”

I let go the light mental hold on Dr. Holsack. She stared at me with a mixture of incredulity and fear. “How am I supposed to believe you have these vastly vaunted mental powers? That’s preposterous.”

“All right, a test then. How about your receptionist?”

“What about her?”

“Think of something that she would never do ordinarily. Something big and obvious. Whisper it to me so that there is no chance she could hear it over the intercom. Then she will come in here and do it.”

Dr. Holsack looked at me sideways, as if trying to decide if I were trying some kind of elaborate ruse. Then she leaned across her desk, and whispered in my ear, “Walking in, standing on my desk, and singing the national anthem.”

I smiled thinly at the good doctor, then sent my mental fingers out towards the receptionist area. A few seconds later, Julia opened the door, strode purposefully towards Holsack’s desk, climbed up and chimed, “Ohh, say can you seee...”

“That’s enough,” Dr. Holsack said. I dismissed Julia back to her desk with a mental wave. She left without a word.

“Proof enough?” I asked.

“No. You could have a microphone in your ear, and she could be listening on the other end.”

“Hmmm. Unlikely but possible. How about a further test. Let’s leave the office, and travel to any place you choose. Pick a person in that place, and an activity, something sufficiently bizarre that even an erratically behaved person would not think of doing it. I will pick that activity out of your head, and that person will start doing it. That way, there is no way other than a mental power that I could possibly know what you have in mind, so to speak.”

Dr. Holsack was glaring at my third eye again. “Why are you telling me this?”

“All in good time, my dear Doctor. Shall we perform the test?”

“Very well,” she replied cautiously. She pressed the intercom button. “Cancel my afternoon appointments, Julia, I’m off to do some unexpected research.”

“Very good Doctor,” Julia replied.

The young doctor and I walked out of her office, passing her receptionist on the way. Doctor Holsack gave her a strange look as we passed, as if expecting her at any moment to have another fit of table-top patriotism.

“She doesn’t remember anything,” I told her.

“Oh really? How is that?”

“I told her not to. She has no desire to remember the incident anymore.”

“I see.” We continued walking, out the building and around the corner. I watched as she tried to pick a place entirely at random. Finally, she chose a bar about two blocks away from her building. We entered; the common room was smoky and ill-lit, populated at this hour by lonely looking men nursing half-empty drinks. Dr. Holsack took a look at the bartender, then closed her eyes as if trying to project her thoughts to me. I smiled, slightly patronizingly, and reached into her mind.

There was a picture of the bartender there, walking over to the cash register. Then, he was opening it, and taking out coins, stacking them quarter, nickel, penny, dime. In her mind I saw the barkeep make four neat little stacks, then switch around the outer two and inner two.

“Open your eyes, Doctor,” I said. She obeyed, and gazed fascinated as the barkeeper followed the motions in her mind exactly. A couple of the patrons looked on in mild amusement, but none said anything.

Dr. Holsack turned back to me, disbelief in her eyes. “I don’t believe it,” she said, as if to emphasize her look.

“Believe it, Doctor.”

“Why tell me?”

“Because I need your help.”

“My help? Why in the world would you, of all people, need my help?”

“Hey,” the bartender called, “you two gonna order something or just stand there?”

“We were just leaving, thank you,” I said, and I slapped down a five dollar bill. He picked it up from the bar, saying, “Hey, thank you. Come back any time!”

We quickly retired back into Dr. Holsack’s office. “How can I help you?” the Doctor asked, sitting into her chair.

“You understand human nature far better than I do,” I began. “When I created the chokers, I really had no concept of what I was doing. I wanted the world to be my playground, and that has happened. However, I take a look around now, and I see that in a few years, women won’t have any rights left to them.”

“Well, one could say that that was your original intention.”

“Only in a sexual fashion. I was perfectly content to let my little harem have lives outside of our nocturnal activities. However, not so many men are like minded, and the effect of the collars on the women seep over into their abilities to function as normal human beings outside of sexual areas.”

“So, what is your question of me?”

“What do I do to make it right? I can’t take all the chokers away, my mental powers just don’t extend that far. Canceling out the chokers’ fields with other ones would be almost impossible, considering how ingrained the choker fields are. I wish to act, but I am out of avenues.”

Dr. Holsack steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them, staring at me. She looked at various things around the room quietly for a few minutes as she pondered my quandary. Finally, she said, “Males have always had aggressive sexual tendencies. It’s in their genes; it is evolutionary advantageous for a man to spread around his genetic material as much as possible. Consequently, we have males being aggressive in other areas, such as business and politics. Given that women have become, thanks to you, passive in the sexual area, passivity has seeped into their other dealings with men. But you would rather see women passive only in the sexual area.”

“That’s right.”

Dr. Holsack suddenly smiled. She looked very pretty when she smiled, almost reminding me of someone. “Your answer is more simple than you might think.”

“Really? Tell me.”

“You want women passive only in a sexual context. Turn that rule around and twist it slightly, and you have your answer.” She smiled at me knowingly, and I knew she expected me to figure this out for myself.

I cogitated on her statement a moment, then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Make men exclusively aggressive in a sexual area and no where else!”

“Exactly. Channel that aggressiveness into willing female receptacles, and males suddenly become disinterested in ruling females in other ways.”

“It’s so simple. I was blind not to have seen it before!” I eyed her. “You certainly are rather cavalier about women being ‘willing receptacles’.”

“When you have been studying the Slut phenomenon for as long as I have, it stops to bother you after a while. I suppose that, given the right codephrase, I’ll become a Slut as well,” she said, fingering her Secret’s choker.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me what it was.”

“I like my personality the way it is.”

“Very well. Thank you, Doctor. I’ll see that you get the grant and then some. You shouldn’t have to worry about anything financial for a long time to come.”

“Well, thank you,” she replied. She extended her hand over her desk, and I took it. We shook for a moment, and I noticed how warm and soft her hand was. I hadn’t noticed that in a long time. As we shook, I gazed behind her, and saw her diploma on the far wall. The name inscribed upon it was “Diana Regina Holsack”.

“Regina,” I said to her as I released her hand. “That’s an unusual name.”

“It was my mother’s maiden name,” she explained.

I stopped. Could it be true? That resemblance, it could be. “What... what was your mother’s name?”

“Before or after she was married?”

“Before.”

“Sky Regina. Why?”

I couldn’t believe it, I just could not believe it. “Diana,” I said softly, “your mother was...” and then I stopped again! Her age! Could it be?

“Diana, how old are you?”

“Thirty-one, why?”

I did some fast subtraction. Thirty-one years ago, that put us at THE END OF SENIOR YEAR! My God! She was... she was...

“You’re... you’re...”

“What?”

Suddenly and unexpectedly, desire coursed through my veins. I felt as though every nerve caught fire, every fiber of my being caught up in a skein of desire for the young woman standing before me. “Didn’t you notice,” I said, coming around the table to stand before her, “that one of my original slaves was named Sky?”

“I chalked it up to coincidence. Mother is rather a stalwart lesbian.”

“Ahhh, but she was willing to do what it took to satisfy me, and to gain my power. Your mother was my Slut, thirty-one years and nine months ago.”

She looked at me in shock. “You don’t mean...”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean, daughter.”

The act of saying the truth out loud stunned her. Her mouth hung agape, her eyes paralyzed with surprise. I took her hand in mine and drew her near me. “You are my progeny, my contribution to the next generation. When I leave this world, you will be the one I leave it to. But now, now... now I want you.”

“Want... me?”

“Yes, you, my daughter. The one sexual activity I have yet to perform. Incest.”

“No, I’m not a Slut! I don’t want to!” She tugged at her hand, trying to pull away from me.

“Have you ever been held by moonbeams and green cheese?”

“What?” Realization hit her. “No no NO! I don’t want to be a Slut! I don’t want to be a goddamn Slut whore, a piece of cunt pussy for you to fuck. Daddy no!”

“Kiss me my Slut Daughter, kiss your Father Master.”

“No please...,” but her protestations died as she reached her lips up to mine. I kissed her for a long time, standing there in her office, our tongues playfully exchanging between our lips. Her arms encircled me as we kissed. My hands played roughly across her ass. Finally I broke our kiss. Her body was as good as her mother’s, all those long years ago.

“Please, don’t make me do this, Father, I don’t want to be a Slut. I liked myself before. Goood, my cunt is soooo hot...” She reached between her skirt, and started to rub. “It’s never been like this, so hot and twitchy. God DAMN you, you son of a bitch, God it’s sooo hot...”

“Would you like to show it to me, Daughter Whore? Would you like to show me your hot, wet cunt? Do you want me to lick it, to make it wetter and hotter? Do want me to squeeze your tits, your little daughter tits, pinch your little daughter nipples?”

“Ooooohhhh YESSSS!” Diana threw herself at me, her tongue plunging into my mouth. Her hips pressed firmly against my bulging pants, and she rubbed up and down against me with frenzied enthusiasm. “Lick my cunt, Master, lick your little girl’s cunt, make her wet, fuck her good, please, Daddy, please, use me...”

I reached down, hooked my hands into the top of her skirt, and ripped it from her. It came away easily, and her black lace underwear literally glistened in the office’s lights. “Take off your blouse and jacket, Slut,” I commanded. She did so, and she looked stunning in her matching bra and panties. “I like the way you look, Bitch Slut Daughter,” I told her.

“Thank you, Daddy Master. Does Daddy want to fuck his daughter?” she said, finger her lips and giving me an “I’ve been bad” look.

I removed my jacket and shirt, and stepped out of my shoes. “Take off your bra, and tweak your nipples, Whore.”

Diana reached around behind herself, unhooked her bra, and let it slide from her chest slowly. Her breasts were medium sized, quite firm looking, and her nipples were standing straight out. She started to pinch them, rolling them around her fingers as I slipped my pants down. My black boxers matched her panties, though they were not nearly as wet. My hard dick made a tent out of them. “Do you see how excited you’ve made me, Slut?”

“Yes, Master, I can see you hard dick, it looks soooo yummy and good, I can’t wait to see it, to suck it, to have it in my hot wet pussy, my twat is soooo hot...”

I moved over to her as she pinched and rolled her nipples in front of me. I grabbed her panties and ripped them from her body; the soaked lace came away easily. Her shaved cunt lips were topped by a thatch of wiry black hair. “You keep your cunt well, Slut.” I reached down and spread her lips apart.

“Ohhhhh, Daddy, touch me, stick your finger in my cunt, please, please...”

I slowly put my middle finger up her hot wet twat. She started to writhe around on my hand. As I stood there, she pumped herself up and down on my finger and gave herself a small orgasm. “Mmmm, Daddy, yes, Daddy, OH DADDY YES FUCK yesssssssss...”

Finally, I could stand it no longer. I picked her up, and tossed her onto the desk. “Oh fuck me, Daddy, take my cunt, make me your Daughter Slut, fuck your little girl, fuck her good, fuck her like the little bitch whore she is, oh fuck me please!”

She didn’t have to ask twice. My dick felt like it was about to tear away from my body. I spread her legs, and plunged deep into her with one stroke. “MMMMM YEAH FUCK OH FUCK ME DADDY MASTER, FUCK YOUR DAUGHTER WHORE, FUCK HER GOOD!”

It didn’t take me long to come my first time. It had been a good year since I had fucked anyone, and the feeling of my daughter’s cunt around my hard cock was exquisite. Within half a minute, I spilled a load of come into her pussy with several grunts and thrusts. My original potion’s magic, however, still coursed through my veins. I pulled out of Diana’s twat, and crawled up onto the desk with my knees. “Suck my cock, Slut, clean it off and make your father come again.”

Diana grabbed my dick and eagerly began to bob her head up and down upon it. After a moment of this, I slowly pushed her head back down onto the desk, keeping my cock in her mouth, and then began to slowly fuck in and out of her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the underside of cock with every thrust, and she soon had me at the brink again. I pulled out of her mouth, and jacked my dick quickly over face. “Is my Slut Daughter ready to receive her father’s come?”

“Yes, Daddy, all over my face, Daddy, come all over my face, your come tastes so good, I want it Daddy, I want it all!”

My jism blasted out of my dick, slapping across her cheek and in her hair. I corrected my aim slightly, and the next blast caught her right across the lips. Her tongue flicked out and licked up everything it could reach, then she pushed up the remaining come on her cheek towards her hungry mouth. As she did this, I continued jacking my cock. The sight of her eating my come had me incredibly aroused. My magicked cock was swiftly ready again. “Here it comes again, catch it again, you fucking slut, fucking daughter slut whore bitch YEAHHH!” The white jizz flew forth again, covering her other cheek and her hand. She scooped at it eagerly, trying to eat every bite.

As she lay there licking at my come, my cock poised above her face, she caught my eye, and said, “I love you, Daddy.”

The high-school stands were quite full that day. It was still balmy out for September. Diana sat next to me, her eyes beaming with pride, as the local Fuck-team took the field. Each one of the scantily clad boys wore a Secret’s ring on their finger, channeling all their aggressive masculine tendencies towards sex.

There hadn’t been a war in five years anywhere on the planet, though few people attended church any longer. A host of sexually-related religions had come and gone, though a few looked like they might last. Most government positions were held by women now, and President Martha Clark and given her inaugural address while getting her pussy thoroughly reamed out by her husband and half her Cabinet.

The boys on the field removed their remaining items of clothing. The receptors, women from both the local school and the competing team, began to stroke their cocks. The rules of this game were fairly simple: points were scored by the number of girls each boy fucked and had an orgasm with. Each side had an hour.

The boys went about their business, pumping their teenage bodies against their female companions as the crowd cheered along. Beside the field, cheerleaders bounced, flounced, and alternately added and shed clothing. “Fuck ‘em good, fuck ‘em high, fuck ‘em till they come to the sky!” they cheered, then bent over and flashed the audience their cunts. The audience cheered politely.

The competition proceeded, the cheers went on. One of the boys on the field had already worked his way through his line of receptors. He quickly moved, his hard dick bouncing, to the line of cheerleaders. “Oh look,” Diana said, “that’s the one, that’s the one she likes.”

“I can see why, he’s very impressive.” The boy ran up the line, and grabbed one dark-haired girl out of the line. Quickly, he flipped up her skirt, bent her over, and plunged into her. The girl screamed with pleasure, “Oh FUCK ME BILL, fuck me good, ride me you big stud, fuck my cunt!”

The crowd went wild. They cheered him on, and in a few minutes, he pulled out, whipped her around quickly, and jacked his dick whip onto her awaiting face. The crowd exploded, cheering and yelling wildly as the teenage stud came.

Finally, the competition was over, and our side had won, thanks in a large part to the ministrations of Bill the Wonder-Teenage Stud. “He’s almost as impressive as you, dear,” Diana said to me.

“Almost,” I conceded. Of course, I had had help.

The cheerleader whom Bill had graced with his jism walked up towards us after the game. She first went up to Diana, and threw her arms around her. Diana kissed her vigorously, and helped lick off the remaining dried come. Then she came over to me. “Did Mom tell you?” she asked.

“Yes, he looks very nice, and has good stamina,” I replied.

“But he’ll never be you, Dad,” she said, smiling.

I smiled and hugged my daughter vigorously. I called her my daughter, calling her my granddaughter made me feel too old.

As we left the stands, I looked around, at the field, at the stands, the few remaining spectators who were emulating the spectacle with a little coital competition of their own, and I thought back to the Pit, to where it all had started. I realized then, that the Slave Pit was no longer there. It was everywhere.

“C’mon, Dad, stop day dreaming.” Veronica poked me. “I need to get back to the house to change. Bill’s taking me to the Festival tonight.”

I smiled. “Let’s go home.” I put my arm around her, and around her mother, and, surrounded by my daughters, I walked back to the car.