The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Drummonds drove home. Mr. Drummond’s even keel temper had been ground to a nub, and he had tuned the radio to jazz just to calm down. Mrs. Drummond, in the passenger seat, had her hand in his crotch to pull at his cock, but it wasn’t helping his mood.

“I just want to see the baby,” she said, partially apologetic. “I miss the baby.”

“You always miss the baby. This was a big opportunity for us, honey, and you miss the baby. The baby costs money. Money we don’t have. This car, we can’t afford it. That big house, we can’t make the mortgage payments. I needed you dripping all over our business partners, and you kept whining in my ear!”

Mrs. Drummond sulked. “I sucked one of their cocks!” she pouted.

“These are big-name producers! If they want a blowjob, they turn around and point. I needed you to—oh great, and our little babysitter has had a boy over.”

They had just reached the house, and a boy at the front door startled like a frightened gazelle. His belt was undone and his expression was wild and confused, almost panicked. He took off headlong, plunging into a landscaped bush, then running out towards the street. Olivia’s hot co-ed body waited in the backlit doorway, and watched them get out of the car.

“Great, just perfect,” Mr. Drummond said. He took a deep breath, adjusted his tie so that it was perfectly symmetrical. “Okay. Time to survey the damage.”

Olivia felt a perfect stillness, a calmness. Like she had passed through a valley of fucking and sucking, then emerged to a place of calm on other side.

Of course, she was a little afraid. Things WERE a little bit too much like TV. She had the same cherry-red slit, one that threatened to override her thinking and substitute it with grunting fucking. She was dressed too hot, and made up like a whore, with painted lips and rouged, defined cheekbones. Plus there was the inescapable fact that she was a young, nubile girl, and prone to getting bent over if a man arched an eyebrow.

But she was different. She knew what was going on. And that meant she could beat it.

Mrs. Drummond didn’t bother to say anything to her. She simply smiled politely, then walked through the hallway towards where the baby was cooing and gurgling. Olivia ignored her. She wasn’t a dim bimbo like the wife.

Mr. Drummond was who she was interested in. He walked into the doorway, hands in his pockets, tie a solid note of silk on his chest. This time he looked tired, and he didn’t say anything to her. The man just fished out his keys, cell phone, and wallet, and placed it on the nightstand.

Olivia’s body responded as she expected. A flush of pleasure at the look of a guy. A sudden swell of blood to her clit, even after Jared had just pounded her, bringing her clit to a fever pitch and lubricating her pussy with a quart of juice. A sudden feeling like her brain had been injected with hormones and pheronomes, urging her to wait on the man, bring him a beer, and then settle down on her knees. That was fine, she was on top of it all. Now he would try and cup her fat, aching titties, and she would slap him back, and say—

“Good night, Olivia,” he said. “How about we settle up tomorrow? It’s been a rough evening.”

He wasn’t even looking at her boobies! Olivia felt outraged. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!

She decided to launch into her speech, anyways. She arched her back to get his attention, and let her voice fall into that little-girl hum she knew boys liked.

“I’m out of here,” she sang. “I know what you’re up to, Mr. Drummond. You’re trying to get me all hot and sexy and stupid, so that I’ll do what you want, and be your cheap whore of a babysitter. You and your blue screen. It’s not going to work.”

Now he was supposed to quiver and panic. Instead, Mr. Drummond rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“It’s my body, not yours,” Olivia said, starting to tremble. “My pussy, my clit, my titties, my ass, and you can’t have them. I’m gonna go be a really smart college student, and you should stay away and stuff.”

Mr. Drummond sighed.

“I know you think you can just walk over here and grab me and I’ll fuck you silly,” Olivia said, sticking to the script. “But I’ve got a secret weapon.” She was so proud of herself. Jared had helped her find it, the dear boy. She had rewarded him with a killer blowjob.

“And what’s that secret weapon, miss?” Mr. Drummond said.

“I’ve got a vibrator up my snatch,” Olivia said, and beamed. It kept her calm and peaceful, a three-incher she had found in Mrs. Drummond’s belongings. It hummed and buzzed inside her, sending shivers up her spine, and Olivia squeezed her thighs together for emphasis.

“You stole my wife’s vibrator and shoved it up your pussy,” Mr. Drummond deadpanned.

He started to pace, back and forth. “Olivia, let me tell you your performance as a babysitter, from my perspective. First, you never check on the baby. Yes, it doesn’t cry much. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a dirty diaper, hmm? You watch television all night long, and not just television, but pornography. Whenever I come home I get a face full of cock and twat as soon as I flick on the tube. How pleasant for me. And tonight, you have a boy over, apparently fuck him to smithereens all over my nice new carpet, then you steal my wife’s vibrator and shove it up your snatch.”

He fixed her with dark eyes. “Under the circumstances, I think you should go.”

He stalked towards the master bedroom.

Olivia was shattered. She felt like sobbing. What had she done? She had been the worst babysitter in the world. Ever!

The girl turned, dejected, and walked home. Then she laid on her bed and stared at the wall.

Eventually, she thought to pull the vibrator out, and turn it off.