The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

What’s in a Name?

(mc, D/s, M/F)

By Julian Winslow

The slightly-built blonde in the trim black pants suit, toyed with her pencil; looked up to flash a polite smile across the conference table at the group from BDB&O. Having risen from his chair at the head of the table, Brian Alberts was now strutting back and forth, very pleased with himself, rambling on expansively, extolling the virtues of his “team,” -- the hard work of the many talented people who put together the Isopod campaign, etc., etc.

Finally, he nodded toward the blond girl sitting at his right. “Ms. Slayton here is responsible for all the graphics, and I think you’re going to be blown way by what she put together for us. Now I’m going to take a few minutes to walk us through the campaign, before I turn it over to the person who’s done all our computer magic. We think they’re really cool and represent the state of the art, eh, Melissa?” he added with a pleased smile.

The attractive blonde was looking up at her big grinning boss, but when she opened her mouth to reply -- suddenly she was struck speechless! A surge of sexual warmth had risen up in her, heated her face, her cheeks, her brow. She was caught in the grip of escalating arousal that electrified her; left her breathless, panting, lips parted in unsaid words! Immediately the rising excitement deepened into her loins, flooded through her body, sending excited tingles straight to her vagina, her pussy, her cunt. Those were the words – vagina, pussy, cunt – that slammed through her now, each one punctuated by a powerful jolt of lust.

Taken aback by the ferocity of the attack, the dazed graphics designer tried to answer her boss, but could manage only a nod of her blond head. Closing her eyes, she shuddered, took a deep breath, struggling to regain her composure. The sudden wave of horniness that gripped her quickly settled into a rutting urge. She recognized it for what it was. An aching need for sex! She wanted to be fucked! Needed to be fucked; right then and there. Fucked. ‘Fuck me. Fuck Me! FUCK MEEEEEE!!!’ the words screamed in her head.

Brian, looking down at that blond head saw only the brief nod of acquiescence and so he went on, oblivious to the girl’s growing distress. He was talking about survey data, test audiences, and acceptance ratings, rambling on, while Melissa Slayton sat there as in daze only vaguely aware of his voice, much too distracted to follow what was being said. She felt confused, lost. The roomful of people seemed far away, and all her energy was focused on one thing: a hard, deep-seated urge in her loins, an aching need that had grown to become intolerable.

She had no choice. She simply had to find relief, touch herself, right then and there. Her hand dropped under the conference table, there to begin stroking her thigh, sliding the thin fabric of her pantsuit up and down her leg, as the flush of arousal heated her up to the burning point.

Sitting upright on the edge of his chair at the far end of the long table, young Eric Sutton was eagerly waiting, closely watching all that went on. He leaned forward impatiently, increasingly dismayed when, during the long-winded introductions, Brian had suddenly gone all formal and started referring to everyone as “Mr.” this, and “Ms.” that -- ignoring first names completely! But Eric knew that couldn’t last. It was only a matter of time till Brian would say the one word that counted – the triggering word.

Then it happened: The one word Eric had been waiting for --“Melissa.” Eric’s eyes instantly shot to the girl’s face, watching closely for the first signs to register on those pretty blond features. Her eyes fluttered; a tiny quiver ran through her jacketed shoulders, and he knew…he had her! He was elated! Eric glanced up at the videocamera in the corner of the room. Melissa’s fingers tightened on the table’s edge, clutching it in a white–knuckled grip; her shoulders gave a wiggle of excitement. Her other hand was now well hidden below the table. Eric thought he knew exactly what that hand was up to.

Eric’s fingers gleefully danced over the keypad of the Blackberry he held under the table

“DID U SEE THAT?”

“Y. U DID IT! YOU D MAN!”

He smiled to think of crazy Wong, his fellow conspirator, huddled over the video monitor in the equipment room, and probably jacking off as he watched the little piece of software they called their “Spanish Fly” now work its magic on the stuck-up girl known widely around the office as “the bitch.” She was always taking credit for the work that he had Wong did. But they had plotted their revenge. They had secretly sent their latest brainchild to her computer each morning for thee weeks, never knowing if the subliminals would take hold. Now they knew!

“But it’s time for me to shut up. It’s really Melissa who should be doing the talking,” Brian continued.

Under the table the girl’s fingers had slid down to touch herself between the legs. And at the sound of her name, she felt terrible rutting urge overtake her again. Now she sprawled back in her chair her slack legs falling open in weak surrender. She fondled her pussy, rubbing her rapidly moistening vagina ever more urgently through the slick fabric of her finely tailored trousers. For a second she tried to rouse herself; sat up abruptly. Her thighs clamped together, hard, squeezed, imprisoning the pleasuring hand, in a desperate attempt to stop its wicked work – if just for a moment. She uttered a small tight grunt. Then she yielded once again to the creamy wave of pleasure, her thighs fell loose, the muscles slackening; she gave herself up to the overwhelming feeling, sinking into dreamy reverie, as though giving herself to a phantom lover.

“Are you alright, Melissa?” Brian’s voice now held a note of genuine concern.

A new jolt of lust shook the young woman at the sound of her name. Her left hand tightened its death grip on the table’s edge, while she sent her right hand plunging even deeper into her churning crotch. She was still unable to speak, but she managed to nod once again, this time more rapidly, her blond head bobbing up and down even as her glazed eyes remained fixed on the table before her. Under the table, her pleasuring hand had slid into her waistband, and was now jammed down the front of her worsted twill pants.

In cyberspace, hastily typed text messages flew back and forth at lightening speed.

“DAMN….LOOK AT THAT! IT’S TURNING THE BITCH ON. MAN IS SHE EVER HOT!!!! JUST LIKE U SAID!”

“IT’S WORKING…SONOVABITCH..THE THING ACTUALLY WORKS!”

“I BET SHE’S PLAYING WITH HERSELF RIGHT NOW. U CAN TELL! LOOK AT HER!!!”

By now, the others at the table were getting alarmed. Brian Alberts was standing over her, his jaw open, stunned to see his top designer seemingly in the midst of some sort of seizure. Incredibly, it looked as though the girl was writhing in sexual heat! She was sunk down deeply into her seat, eyes tightly shut, her hips started to move, bucking in pelvic thrusts while she made tiny grunts through tightly-pressed lips.

“Melissa, what’s wrong?” he cried, reaching down to touch her on the shoulder.

Again, it was the sound of her name, this time coupled with the touch of a man, that sent the girl exploding up out of the chair. Arms and legs flailing, she sprang to her feet, knocking over her chair. For a second she stood there beside the table, panting like an overworked racehorse.

All watched in amazement as the frantic girl suddenly bolted for the door. “I…I’ve got to go…”she mumbled over her shoulder, fumbled with the door knob, and then…was gone!

The gaping Isopod team were left in the room with their puzzled guests, looking at each over the table in the stunned silence that followed that abrupt exit.

Once out of the room, the half-crazed woman slammed the door behind her and fell weakly back against it, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. The terrible heat was burning her up! The hallway was empty and so no one saw the young businesswoman openly grab her crotch, cupping herself, moaning, arching up as she squirmed back against the closed door. No one heard that moan, a half-plaintive cry of a desperate animal as she urgently rubbed her needy cunt right there in the public hallway!

Then the wild-eyed girl was stumbling off down the hall, driven to seek the sanctuary of the Ladies’ Room frantic to make it before she could be overtaken by a thundering orgasm, the first tremors of which were already racking her healthy young body. With luck, she would find a stall that was empty, and there she would jam her hand down her pants, fall to her knees, masturbating furiously to bring on the massive upheaval that even now shook her to the core. Through the metal door she heard a worried feminine voice.

“Melissa are you alright, Melissa? Melissa!? MELISSA!!”

The End