The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Bryce Towner’s chauffeur came around the side of the car to let him out. Another weekday, another day in the office. Some men might have dreaded the upcoming work day, but not Bryce. It didn’t hurt that he was the president of his company. It was a company with diverse holdings, named after his family name, and had been passed down a few generations. It had existed before him, but he was the one who’d made it the success it was— who had diversified it further, and started up the investment brokerages that now made up a substantial part of its holdings.

Bryce knew there were other men who were going to work today, some of them maybe even in the same building as him, for him, who were dreading it— who hated their jobs, and he couldn’t really feel sorry for them. He’d always loved his work, sometimes even a little too much. If someone were to ask his wife, Selene, she certainly would have agreed with that statement, though she was a team player all things considered. Another day in the office was like paradise to Bryce— while he loved his family, it was no secret that when he was home, he was often thinking about how much he was looking forward to coming back in the next morning. And working late had never been a headache for him. He lived, breathed and slept work, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Today was a day he’d been looking forward to in particular. Once every so often, Bryce had his secretary Cindy choose the most convenient day available, and clear his schedule— and Bryce could have the whole day to himself, to think of big picture strategy and plan ahead for upcoming business. This time, he was thinking specifically of Towner Industries’ next board meeting. Towner Industries was the holding company— it owned all its other subsidiary companies, including the three investment brokerages that Bryce had specifically pushed to establish.

Towner Industries was also the company that held the deed to the head building that it and all its subsidiaries were headquartered in. The building was one of the tallest skyscrapers on that particular city block in the downtown metropolitan area— the building whose lobby Bryce was entering right now, the way he did every morning, on the way to take his elevator ride up to the top floor.

There were always a lot of people in the lobby of the building. It was a big lobby, with very high ceilings. It had a designated waiting area to one side of it, and close to the entrance. Some of the building’s lower floors often made use of that area to keep their guests waiting; one of the investment brokerages was on the second floor, and Bryce knew for a fact that they often left their clients waiting there until it was time to retrieve them for their appointments.

Bryce kept his finger in a lot of pies— had his reports inform him on everything, even day to day minutiae, which was why he knew random trivia of this type.

The waiting area was closest to the entrance, so when one came in through the front doors, they had to pass it to get to the elevators. If one continued past the elevators, there were other amenities— a coffee shop, several different lunch places, but Bryce never bothered with them.

He went up to work the same way all the people who worked for him did— but he didn’t otherwise move among them. He went through the lobby, and rode the elevator up the same as the rest; but he never went to the lunch counter or the coffee shop. His time was too important for that. He often sent out for meals; on occasion he did eat from the lunch counters in rotation if he wanted something quickly; but Cindy was always the one who went down to get it for him.

Usually, when Bryce passed the waiting area, the people seated on its couches were a blur to him, easily overlooked. Usually, his eyes were on the elevators ahead— they were special high-speed elevators, each one dedicated to a certain range of floors so that all the other floors of the building that weren’t relevant to that section could be sped past, to increase efficiency and reduce delay.

Bryce always went to the farthest elevator down the hall— the one that sped past all the other floors of the building up to the top ten. It was a very tall building with many floors; if the elevators hadn’t been so efficiently designed, getting anywhere would have taken ages. It only took about 2 minutes to get all the way to the top— and it was a very tall building.

But Bryce wasn’t in a rush this morning— wasn’t charging ahead towards his ride up, thinking ahead to his first meeting of the day. He had no meeting waiting for him— only an office door waiting to be closed behind him, to give him privacy and allow him time to concentrate. So Bryce was more aware of his surroundings today than he might have been on other days— and today he felt a pair of eyes on him as he moved through the waiting area.

This wasn’t out of the ordinary in itself. Most people who worked for Towner Industries, or one of its subsidiaries, knew him by sight. He was a very well-known business man, and his family was a very well-known family. But there was something in this gaze that felt a little different than simple recognition— Bryce stopped walking to turn and see who was looking at him, and the crowd that he had been moving with until the second before maneuvered around him to keep going towards the elevators.

It was a woman— she was not sitting on the nearest row of seating, and not in the second row either, but in the third row back. There were other people sitting here and there, waiting; none of them looking at him. Some of them were in groups— she was alone.

She struck him. Bryce didn’t know what it was about her… but there was something in her look. He’d felt it even before he’d turned to see her, but there was a depth that went beyond recognizing him. She recognized him— that was clear. But she didn’t look particularly impressed by him— or at least, she didn’t seem intimidated by his notoriety the way most other people were.

A lot of the time when Bryce was recognized— and it happened a lot, since he was a public figure— whoever was doing the recognizing tried to be discreet about it. There would be the moment of recognition— then the person would look away quickly, so as not to be caught staring. Occasionally he did come across a gawker— but the people who tried to be polite by averting their eyes were much more common.

This woman had no such shame. When she saw him looking back at her, she kept right on looking at him. There was a pulling back of her lips into a smile, but it wasn’t exactly a friendly smile. There was something knowing about it that Bryce wasn’t sure how to interpret.

She was a beautiful woman, Bryce thought, as he looked her over more carefully. Her hair was thick and flowing, and a deep brown color. She was sitting down, but she was wearing a well-tailored blouse and pencil skirt, so Bryce was able to get a good look at her figure.

He got a good look before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be looking. She had a knock-out body. Her face was pretty— her hair was lovely and flowing, but none of it compared to her body. It was the kind of body that one would expect of a movie-star, or a model. These were not foreign things to Bryce per se; he’d met celebrities before, he’d met models before, and he’d even had some of each throw themselves at him.

If he had been a different man, a man who had been single when he took the company over in his early twenties, he could have slept with his share of them— but he’d already been married for several years at that age, and he was still married to his first and only wife now, some twenty years later (a rare thing in his social circle)— and he’d never once slept with another woman, celebrity, supermodel or not.

He’d never slept with another woman, but he did still have eyes— and throughout his marriage, in those moments when beautiful women had thrown themselves after him, he’d always allowed himself a moment to consider the temptation— to take in their beauty— and then to look away, and leave them behind.

He was still looking at this woman in the waiting area. He hadn’t stopped yet— this was a strange feeling for him. In all his time as CEO, he’d met many important people; and he’d met many famous people. And he had rarely if ever felt intimidated by them. He was as important as most of them, more important than some, and only less important than a few. He deserved to keep such prestigious company, and often when he was in it, he felt perfectly at home there.

But this woman who was sitting in a waiting area, this woman who was only some lowly client of one of the branches of one of his subsidiary companies— he was intimidated by her. It had to be because of her body; maybe it was a little because of her air of knowingness— but Bryce felt star-struck in the way he imagined most normal people did when they saw someone famous. And this woman wasn’t famous at all.

He was still looking— still letting himself look; how long had he been standing there? Two minutes? Five? It was rude to stare so long, but he was so struck that it seemed to have struck him speechless. And she’d been staring at him as long as he’d been staring at her which… made him feel a little uncomfortable.

Her blouse was a pale green sleeveless piece; the neckline scooped down in an arc, but not too low. It was high enough to still pass for business casual— Bryce thought this was important in her case, because her breasts were very large and full. Even though they were mostly hidden by her blouse, her blouse hugged them tight, and they were easily discernible through it.

The pencil skirt she wore was gray— and it hugged tight to her hips and to her legs, even when seated— and he was still looking at her, and he had a wife that he loved very much and had loved for over twenty years.

That thought was the one that got him to stop staring, and make to turn away. But before he could, this woman raised her hand— and beckoned him!

Bryce thought it probably wouldn’t be a smart idea to introduce himself and actually speak to the woman. But she was still gesturing to him to come over, and Bryce still seemed to be a little awe-struck and speechless— he found himself going when she gestured for him.

“Well, hello there,” she said, when Bryce came around the row of seating to stand before her. “Did you see something you liked?”

Her voice was coy— but he overlooked her flirtatious tone. He was noticing the sound of her voice instead— soft and smooth like golden honey. It was a voice that suited her well. It was a worthy match to beauty like hers.

Warning bells were ringing in his mind— he’d ogled her like an adolescent, and now she was openly flirting with him. He was still as married as ever— he shouldn’t have come over.

He had to save face somehow; he had to speak, and find some way to salvage this disastrous interaction. “I apologize for staring,” he said, smoothing his gawkishness back behind the veneer of the accomplished veteran business man. “It’s not often I find someone looking at me who doesn’t look away when I look at them.”

Not his best excuse; but the best he could do for now.

It didn’t stop her from giving him another flirtatious smile. “So you thought you’d have a little staring contest with me. There’s nothing wrong with that— though I think I was the winner. You were going to look away before I gestured for you to come over here.”

“I was,” Bryce granted, hoping an affable chuckle would be enough to keep up his pretense of friendliness— and his pretense of total disinterest in her and her flirting.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” He asked, continuing in that affable tone, though he already knew the answer.

“You’re Bryce Towner.” She spoke his name like she was savoring it in her mouth before sending it out. “Of course I know who you are. You don’t know who I am, though. My name is Hallie Scott. I’m a nobody— I’m only here to meet with a financial advisor at your brokerage.”

She held out her hand for him to shake.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hallie Scott,” Bryce said, taking her hand, against his better judgement. He moved to give it a shake, but instead she gave his a squeeze— and as she did, he almost imagined that she was running her fingers over the band of his wedding ring.

Then his hand was dropped, and he couldn’t be sure if she had really done it at all.

“It was nice to meet you formally,” Hallie said.

“Right, nice to meet you,” Bryce agreed. He felt suddenly flustered again— her hand had been soft in his. “But I have my day to get on with—“

“And I have a meeting with an advisor any minute now,” Hallie said, in agreement. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

“Maybe,” Bryce said. “Goodbye.”

He turned away from her, and moved on towards the last elevator that would take him to his top floor office.

Maybe he would see her again— but Bryce hoped not. He didn’t seem to be quite himself when he was around her; and he’d barely known her five minutes.

Bryce had the elevator himself on the ride up to his floor— he managed to keep his thoughts on practical things. Saying hello to his secretary; the ideas he’d been hoping to concentrate on today.

When he passed his secretary Cindy’s desk on the way into his office, he remembered to say hello to her, since he’d planned on it in the elevator. On most days, even his busiest days, he never found it very hard to remember to be friendly with her— but he was feeling a bit scattered today, so he’d needed to leave a mental reminder for himself.

As he’d been looking forward to since the previous evening, he moved past her desk, into his office, and closed the door. As he went Cindy gave him assurances that she was going to hold all his calls throughout the day— that she would only come in once, around eleven, to see if he wanted anything for lunch— and the rest of his time that day was his.

Bryce closed his office door behind him; but he didn’t feel quite as relieved as he’d pictured he would when he’d been thinking ahead to this moment. He didn’t feel as relieved as he usually did when these thinking days came around again. Normally, when he shut himself in for a day of solitary strategizing, he really felt that he was alone, and savored the solitude.

But he didn’t feel quite alone, today. There was company with him, in his head. If he thought about it too much… he almost thought…

No, he wasn’t going to spend his time thinking about that. This was a day’s worth of dedicate thinking time for his business— it belonged rightfully to the second love of life— Towner Industries. Second of course after his lovely wife Selene.

Bryce moved past his desk to take a seat in his tall-backed chair. He’d left some files for himself to consider in the upper left-hand drawer of the desk, which he withdrew.

As he reached to pull them out, he caught a glimpse of the photographs that sat on his desk: one of him and his wife, taken on their second honeymoon just a few years ago— they’d gone to celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, which happened to be just a few weeks before Bryce’s forty-second birthday; they’d decided on a hot and tropical vacation, because their original honeymoon had been European. It had also been paid for with funds gifted by Bryce’s parents, since Bryce and Selene had only been eighteen at the time. Bryce had felt pretty satisfied with himself when he’d paid for their second trip in full with his own money, since he hadn’t been able to do that at the time of their first honeymoon. And he’d spared no expense on that second honeymoon.

They had had a good time there; the picture he kept on his desk was one of the two of them standing together on the terrace at the resort, taken by one of the resort staff. Selene had her arms around him, and was kissing him on the cheek, and the sunset was behind them and over the cerulean ocean, streaking that perfect crystal blue in oranges and golds. It was one of Bryce’s favorite pictures, period, and he kept it on his desk for that reason: when work was hectic, it was nice to see it, and to think back on that time.

Bryce also had three other pictures on his desk, which he also took a second to look at. One of his son, Daniel, who preferred to be called Dan— one of his daughter, Kimberly, who preferred to be called Kim, and a family picture of all four of them on a vacation. That trip had also been a European one.

Dan was only in eighth grade— the picture Bryce kept on his desk was Dan’s most recent school portrait, and he changed it out each year when Dan had a new one. Kim’s picture was this year’s school portrait too, taken at the start of her junior year. Sometimes it was hard to believe that Kim was going to be a senior just next year; but Bryce always changed his children’s pictures out each fall when Selene gave him their school pictures to take to work. It helped him mark the passage of time— and helped at least partly to remind him that they weren’t so young anymore.

He guessed that after next year, he’d have to get Kim to send him pictures of her in her adult life to replace the long-standing school photo tradition. It was strange to think of having no more new school portraits for her after she graduated— he’d been keeping a school picture of her there since the time she was in kindergarten.

The picture of the four of them on vacation was older; Bryce did not change it out or update any more than he updated the picture of him and Selene, even though by now that picture was three years old. The picture that had sat there before it had been a picture of them on their first honeymoon, which, until the taking of the terrace picture, had been Bryce’s favorite.

The picture of all four members of their family together had been there longer on Bryce’s desk than the second honeymoon photo.

Kim had only been thirteen, and a new thirteen— the photo had only been taken three weeks after her thirteenth birthday, and Dan had only been nine at that time; his birthday was later in the year than Kim’s so for part of the year there was always a period in which she was four years ahead of him instead of three.

Bryce liked the picture because he remembered that particular trip fondly; but also because it was one of the last photos he had of their family in which his children were still children. Dan had been months away from turning ten, but still young enough to make a silly face.

And Kim had been barely thirteen, but old enough to aspire to proper teenagerhood, and roll her eyes like she was already so over the immaturity of younger and very uncool brother.

And both he and Selene stood behind Dan and Kim smiling like they knew it was one of the last times their kids would be that young.

Bryce thought it was his favorite picture of them as a family— which was why he kept it on his desk, along with the other three. He’d chosen each picture carefully, and each picture held special meaning to him; and he often liked to stop at the beginning of the day, and look at them for a minute before starting work.

He’d been looking at them for longer than a minute today. He knew why, but he’d been trying not to think about it: he’d been looking at them because he felt guilty. And he still wasn’t going to pursue that train of thought any further, because he had a feeling that particular train was one that was destined to derail and strand him along his way.

He set himself back to the task of pulling his files out of the drawer. He’d never quite made it to the handle to pull the drawer open; his hand had fallen away to rest along the armrest of his chairs as he’d comtemplated his family photos. But he raised his hand again, pulled the drawer open, and took the stack of four files out to set in the center of his desk. Then he reached into the drawer below to pull out his notepad, and his fountain pen. He could be very old-school in his methods sometimes— he’d always been good at keeping on the cutting edge of technology, and on the cutting edge of the markets, with the help of his reports and his support staff, and his own earnest efforts. But sometimes when he was alone, and he was trying to concentrate, he still preferred to do things the slow way. Sometimes he just felt his thoughts came to him more easily if he was jotting them down on paper.

Bryce opened the top file, and began flipping through it. He kept his focus on the text, with some effort— jotted occasional notes down as he read along. When he’d gotten through these, he’d look back over his notes again, and let his mind run free; often he found true inspiration struck most quickly when he was skimming his notes a few hours into the day.

But today, as he made those notes, Bryce was very aware that there were two thoughts in the back of his head. One of which he wasn’t thinking yet— one of which he wouldn’t allow, and the other which was permissible. Since it was a slow day for him, by design, he should take advantage of that by calling Selene on his lunch break to check in and to chat. He rarely had a light enough schedule to make time to call her from work in the middle of the day— and he thought he should make the effort today. His most common reason for calling Selene from work was to let her know he’d be working late. He knew she’d appreciate a call that was just for the sake of conversation.

He also knew why he was thinking about this— why that thought was sitting there in the back of his mind as a waiting task, reminding him to do it. It was again because he felt that niggling sense of guilt. And the reason why he felt that way was directly because of the other thought.

The thought that wasn’t permissible.

Bryce kept reading. He made it through the first folder, leaving notes behind him in his tracks; made it through the second folder, the third and the fourth— and he had notes to show for all of this, and a good chance of prompting some jolt of inspiration.

And yet, when he turned the last page of the last folder it was like he had turned that page to find one more page behind it, on which that forbidden thought was written and staring him in the face.

It hadn’t really happened— but it felt that way. With each of the folders finished, there was nothing left to distract him, nowhere left to hide. And it was only the middle of the morning— Cindy hadn’t even been in yet to ask about his lunch order. Could he really keep his mind off it forever? Could he really keep himself from thinking it indefinitely?

He wasn’t alone in his office. He hadn’t been alone once since he’d come in today. The entire time he’d sat there at his desk trying not to think about it, there had been a second presence: the image of Hallie, and specifically the image of Hallie’s body.

It had been sitting there with him, as surely as if she had been sitting across his desk and looking at him. It was a beautiful body— a delectable body, and he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what it would look like in swimwear. Or in lingerie. Or naked.

And he couldn’t stop himself from wondering about Hallie. What that flirtatious coyness would translate into if it was responded to with flirtatiousness in return. And she projected that air of knowingness— did she know what she was doing sexually? What kind of sexual partner would she be? How would her body feel? She looked amazing; would she feel amazing? Would the pleasure she could give him be equally amazing... or would she look just as beautiful, just as attractive in the throes of her own pleasure…? Or would she look even more so…?

If she was here in his office right now… what would she do? Would she flirt with him? Would he let her? Or would she try to push things further? Would she come on to him? Try to seduce him? Would her let her do that?

The thoughts of her and her body were many— they only increased Bryce’s sense of guilt. In his long marriage, the temptation to cheat had only ever been fleeting— and he’d certainly never imagined any other woman than his wife in such detailed sexual scenarios. Let alone a stranger he’d only met earlier the same day.

He was ashamed at himself— also partly shocked. He didn’t think of other women in this way. He had eyes, yes, he was still a man, yes— but though, through the years, he’d now and then appreciated the look of various women in passing, and allowed himself brief daydreams, there had been no substance to it. He’d always known deep down that nothing would ever come of any of it— that at the end, he would emerge from the daydream and go back to his wife— or look away from the other woman to look back at her.

But these daydreams of Hallie weren’t coming to an end. They were only growing more vivid; and there was substance to them. They did not feel like frivolous, harmless fantasy. There was a very real attraction here— a powerful attraction, which, if he indulged, would jeopardize his marriage.

Bryce had no intention of indulging it— with any luck, he would never see Hallie again. But the fact was, he couldn’t give a guarantee that if Hallie were in his office, and if she did come on to him— that he would be able to resist her seduction. He’d only known her briefly, and yet she’d been on his mind all morning; even for the part of the morning in which he’d been compartmentalizing his thoughts and deliberately not admitting her presence in his mind to himself.

And he was still thinking about her. Thinking of how attractive she was; imagining her to be a knowledgeable lover, as her knowing looks had implied; imagining having access to that body, having it under his hands— under his mouth, below him… imagining pleasuring her, imagining her responses that pleasure… somehow feeling that he did want to please her… if he had her before him, if the two of them were engaged in intercourse, Bryce knew he would want to bring her to her pleasure…

Bryce forced himself to look back to the notes he’d jotted— wishing for some stroke inspiration to come, and return his thoughts to proper places, but his thoughts were still full of Hallie, her image, her possibilities…

Bryce was quite shocked with himself. To think so long, and so lasciviously of a woman who was not his wife… it was unacceptable… it was abhorrent. He’d put his marriage and family above everything else in his life, except for his business. They were a close second, and he always made sure they knew their importance to him. He always went out of his way to make them feel appreciated and valued.

He always tried to make sure Selene knew it especially, to make up for all the late nights he didn’t make it home, for all the disappointing calls telling her another late night had come around to keep him away from her once again. How could he repay her this way, spending his entire morning fantasizing about a stranger?

Bryce felt even more committed to calling his wife over lunch. He would have a long conversation with her, about whatever she liked, to make it up to her, without telling her that he was making something up to her. And hearing her voice would help him put things back into the proper perspective, he was sure. He just needed to talk to her. He needed to remind himself of what he had— and how much more valuable it was than some fantasy.

He was definitely going to call Selene and talk to her over his lunch. He owed her that much and more; and hopefully after that, his head would be on straight again.

And his afternoon could be spent thinking thoughts about business, instead of thoughts about Hallie.