The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The jangle of the mini-mart door chimes pulled Brianna away from the tiny TV that kept her busy through the down-time after the morning rush had subsided. Today on the talk show: a pair of sloppy girls fighting over their dentally-challenged man. Brianna was hoping the bleached-blonde would win- she was the cuter one. Regretfully, she turned to regard the bearded driver whom she recognized as one of the cigarette delivery persons, and silently prayed she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the morning stocking the back room. Her eyes went over the invoice while she signed it. “Hey Ron,” she said, through her gum. “This one’s not on the order.”

Ron nodded. He’d had the same problem a few times already today. “Yeah, it’s a new brand from CM. They’re sending these out no cost, promotional. I guess you’re supposed to offer a free pack to any of the regular CM smokers.”

“Any of the women, you mean,” she said, holding up the slim pastel pack. She giggled. “CapMor XS120? Would you be caught dead smoking one of these?”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead smoking that shit period,” he said. He gave her a look, taking in her long, slender frame, and curly red hair. He realized she wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples were fairly obvious through the tight belly shirt she wore. His head snapped back up. “I don’t know why you smoke anyway- just ruining that fine body of yours.”

“Oh, stop.” She rolled her eyes and chomped on her gum. Getting hit on by half the guys that came in was no longer embarrassing to her. She narrowed her green eyes at him and popped a small pink bubble. “It’s my body, anyway.”

He laughed. “It doesn’t matter anyway, check out the fine print,” he said. “Where the surgeon general’s warning usually is.”

She turned the pack on its side and read out loud, “’Conclusive testing has shown that smoking CMXS120s is not harmful to your health. CMXS120s do not pose any of the health risks normally associated with cigarette smoking. Share them with your friends in good conscience.’ Well that’s weird. But cool, I guess, if it’s true.”

“They probably taste like crap,” Ron said. “See ya.”

From the kitchen window of their comfortable two-story suburban home, Denise Newman watched her daughter and son pull out of the driveway in the dull, rain-threatened morning air. Her concerns about Nancy’s driving had lessened somewhat over the past year, but agreeing to let her drive herself and Brian to school every day was still a major concession. Denise had been wondering from time to time lately if her reluctance to trust her daughter was anything more than her own unwillingness to believe that she could have children old enough to have adult issues. She could clearly remember begging her own father for the car keys; it didn’t feel like the better part of two decades had passed since she was Nancy’s age.

She lifted the coffee pot off the machine and poured the steaming liquid into her cup. Only half full; time to make more. She carefully sipped as she reached up to the top of the refrigerator for the can. Feels light...too light...damn, not even enough for another pot. She paused and considered the rest of the rainy weekday morning without coffee. I’m not an addict, she smiled to herself, and headed upstairs to get dressed. Her car needed gas anyway.

“Ok Brianna, I’m heading out,” said the night manager. “The place is all yours until Doug gets in at noon.”

Brianna quickly turned away from the TV and made a show of putting away the forgotten delivery. “No problem.”

“Oh, and when Doug comes in, remind him about the cameras. We can’t have them go out on the night shift again. We’re lucky we didn’t get robbed last night.”

Whatever, she thought. “Ok, see you tomorrow night.”

She watched him leave, and made sure he was well out of the parking lot before she grabbed her purse. Unlike some of her co-workers, he didn’t permit her to smoke at the counter while he was at the store, and her last break had been hours ago. She spit out her now tasteless gum and fished for her smokes. She’d discarded two empty packs by the time she realized she was out completely.

Denise hated going out without getting ready. Even a quick run to the mini-mart like this made her feel self-conscious without at least a little time spent on her makeup, hair and clothes. Even in the cold fluorescent light of her bathroom, her blue eyes were not baggy, thank god; her shoulder-length blonde hair was only a bit wild. She looked like what she was, she realized; a healthy soccer mom that time had been kinder to than most of her contemporaries. She made a face at herself, and reminded herself once again that it was only the mini-mart, after all. A little lipstick, a little eyeliner, just to take the edge off her morning face. She stripped and began to look for something quick and casual to put on. A pale pink cotton knit dress, a holdover from the rapidly dying summer, was just the thing- she could wear her raincoat over it in case the clouds burst. She pulled it on and turned again to the mirror. I am still attractive, she told herself. I have big blue eyes and a perfect nose. My lips are full, my teeth are white. My honey-blond hair- I wish I hadn’t cut it all off, but it looks good in a layered bob. My breasts are fuller and rounder than they were before the children, and only a little lower. My waist is still small. My ass is still great (thank you, Pilates), and my legs are still long and shapely. She stopped in the midst of her self-encouragement and a question, long pushed away, rose to the surface: so why doesn’t Carl want to make love to me anymore?

Brianna had a minor conflict in her head. She was not an overly moral person- in fact, she could be somewhat accurately described as trailer trash- but she also didn’t want to jeopardize her job. The problem: she was out of cigarettes and she didn’t have the cash to buy another pack until Doug came in with the paychecks. She knew he wouldn’t approve of her taking a pack in advance, and was observant enough to know if she added cash to the drawer later. Her eyes darted to the clock, to her forlorn lighter, and to the stack of packs of cigarettes over the counter. She then remembered the extra delivery, the new brand. Hell, she was supposed to give them away for free anyway. Might as well start with her.

She quickly grabbed the box from the top and tore off the cellophane and the foil wrapping. An unexpected aroma rose from the opened pack, quite unlike the usual tobacco scent. It reminded her a little of incense, a little of cloves, and was there just the tiniest hint of body odor in there? Not much like sweat, she decided as she drew the cigarette from the pack, but a little like fresh clean underarms just after a shower. It was an exotic aroma, at once spicy and earthy and yet light and ethereal.

Denise’s sadness tuned into rationalization and denial as she finished getting ready. So what if they no longer had that driving spark that once drove them to spend whole nights making love. From what she had heard, that was pretty normal for a couple in their second decade of married life. So what if the increasingly infrequent sex was not completely satisfying- she knew that to be the rule for women. She had simply deluded herself into thinking she would be the exception. She wasn’t going to let herself worry about it; she had her home, her children, her life to think about, and sex was really such a small part of all that. She let her half-successful arguments pretend to win and focused on making sure she had everything she needed in her purse.

She slid on her raincoat and double-checked the pocket for the car keys. As she walked out the front door, she saw her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Donnelly (what was her first name again? she wondered) returning from getting the mail. Denise inwardly tensed up. Though nearly the same age, the neighbor always seemed to treat her like she was still a silly teenager. “Hello, Mrs. Donnelly,” she said, trying to get to her car quickly.

“Denise,” the neighbor called to her. “How are you doing?”

She groaned inside, but turned with a smile. “Fine, and you?”

“I’ve told you, you may call me Elaine,” said the neighbor, placing her handful of envelopes under her arm. She was a tall, fit woman with short black hair surrounding a pale but nevertheless strikingly attractive face. She always struck Denise as seeming very European, somehow, and also somewhat ecclesiastical. “Are your children well?”

“Yes, fine thanks. How’s Kelly- she like her new school?” Denise was hoping to curb Elaine’s desire to talk with a reference to the neighbor’s infamously unruly daughter, recently shipped off to a distant boarding school.

“She’s adapting,” said Elaine tersely. “The new environment should be a good influence for her.”

“Must be tough on her to be away from home for so long,” Denise said, trying not to seem impatient.

“It’s for her own good. The public schools are just so full of bad influences.”

“I guess that’s true. Brian and Nancy seem to be doing ok though.” Denise didn’t want to get into an argument, but felt like sticking up for her kids’ school.

“Oh, of course,” Elaine said, “but they had a more modern upbringing, didn’t they? I’m afraid we were much more traditional with Kelly. Maybe we brought her up with too much emphasis on traditional values.”

Oh, fuck off, thought Denise. “I’m sorry, I have to run...always good talking to you, Elaine.”

“Goodbye, Denise.” Elaine gave her an approximation of a smile, and turned away. Denise almost sprinted to the car, as if to outrun a bad mood.

The cigarette was both longer and thinner than she was used to, but it felt right as she placed it between her lips. She ignited the lighter, and set flame to the tip. Her cheeks hollowed slightly as she took the first, tentative drag.

She instantly stiffened as a flash of rapture assaulted her body. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. A small noise, a gasp of surprise and pleasure, escaped as she exhaled. She raised a trembling hand and touched her face- the merest sensation, but it shook her all over. Her eyes closed again and she let her hand wander slowly down over her lips, over her chin and down her neck softly. She took another, almost unconscious drag from the cigarette and again the fierce bloom of bliss took her by surprise. It seemed a bit more intense each time, and by the fifth drag she fell back against the wall, playing furiously with her nipples.

Memories of her dozen or so experiences with sex flashed by her quickly. She had come a few times, or so she thought, but the best fuck of her life was a mere backseat grope compared to this. Her pussy was drenched, and by the time she got her jeans unzipped and her fingers down there she had lost count of the orgasms. She found her clitoris and began to rub herself frenziedly as she lit up her second cigarette.

Denise pulled her car up to the gas pump and shut off the engine. She opened the door and stuck her hand out- not raining yet. She stepped out and checked her purse again to see how much money she had on hand. Enough, she decided for gasoline and coffee, but she’d need to visit the ATM before she went anywhere else. She crossed the parking lot and headed for the automatic doors.

Blinking a little in the sudden glare of the interior lights, she headed for the aisle where she knew she’d find coffee. She could hear a television pumping out daytime talk show chatter through a tinny little speaker, but could see nobody at the checkout counter. There was an odd smell in the air, but she wrote it off as an immigrant clerk’s incense- a usual thing in mini-marts and taxicabs everywhere. Still, there was something different about this smell-something evocative, like waking up with the swiftly fading memory of a feverish dream. Denise found herself sniffing more deeply, trying to identify the elusive odor. It was maddeningly evasive, drifting just out of reach of her senses, almost playful.

Her arm had dropped to her side, the coffee almost forgotten, when she saw that the clerk had returned to the counter. Denise shook her head, feeling a bit dazed, and began to approach the checkout. The attendant was a trashy-looking redhead; just a girl really, despite all the overdone and somewhat sloppy makeup. Denise found herself wondering how much older she was than her Nancy, and how lucky her own daughter was to have a better start in life than this poor little thing. The girl looked disheveled and cheap, maybe even stoned or drunk the way she was staring at her with her heavy, glazed green eyes. Denise cleared her throat. “I need ten dollars of gas on pump....” she trailed off, trying to remember which gas pump she’d parked alongside. Her mind was having some trouble focusing. She peeked out the window and squinted, trying to read the number, “...uh, three. And this coffee.”

The redhead stared at her dully for a second or two, and Denise was trying to decide whether to repeat herself when the girl’s eyes seemed to light up in sudden understanding. Denise watched her turn around and noticed the dirty marks on the back of her tight t-shirt and the ass of her jeans. She looks like she’s been rolling on the floor, she thought. When the girl turned back she had a cigarette dangling from her lipsticked mouth and was raising a lighter to it.

“Maybe I should just go somewhere else,” Denise started to say, but trailed off as she realized the aroma she’d been trying to pinpoint was stronger. It was coming from the girl’s cigarette as she lit the tip and inhaled deeply, her green eyes twinkling now with newfound purpose. Denise had a brief thought to complain, maybe chastise the girl for taking so long to ring her up, but she suddenly felt very reluctant to object- to anything. She was inexplicably fascinated, watching the smoke curl up over the girl’s blood red lips and into her flaring nostrils. A heat seemed to have built in her cheeks, a blush that was deepening down her chest and beginning to blossom below her waist.

“My name’s Brianna,” giggled the redheaded girl. “Want a smoke?”

Denise tried desperately to pull her racing thoughts together. She barely managed to whisper “I don’t smoke” while staring into the other’s eyes. She was discovering just how liquid and emerald they really were, full of dark corners promising forbidden secrets. She had lost her vague contempt, and pity, for the mini-mart worker; she was a dirty girl, maybe, but she probably had a lot of fun being dirty. Denise dreamily wondered what it would be like to be like that.

“Oh, come on,” Brianna pleaded, pouting. “You’ll love it, I promise.” She took a long drag and open her red lips wide, letting the smoke drift around inside her mouth. Denise watched the smoke float and twist, and suddenly vanish as the girl inhaled. Her legs felt rubbery, and she realized her own mouth had opened, unconsciously miming the redhead’s actions.

“Ummm, ok,” Denise squeaked. She wanted very much to be taught everything by this dirty, sexy girl. How to be bad. How to look like a bad girl. “Show me how,” she breathed insistently.

Brianna leaned over the counter slowly, her lips parted. Denise’s eyes were heavy with need, her breathing becoming shallower every second. She could feel the burning on her face and lips where she knew she was about to be kissed. But instead of the soft touch of lips, she felt a movement of air, and opened her eyes wide to see the teenager blowing white smoke into her open mouth. Startled- but so curious now-she breathed in the heavy, spicy fumes. Her knees buckled with sudden pleasure, and she leaned heavily into the girl, their lips finally coming together.

Denise was on fire. From head to toe she felt a surge of desire that made her want to pass out and shout for joy all at once. She grabbed the redhead’s face and hungrily kissed her hard, plunging her tongue into the girl’s wet, accepting mouth. Brianna moaned, muffled, and clutched at the back of Denise’s hair with her free hand, pressing their frenzied lips together even harder. She was instantly, deeply in love with the older woman, and wanted to fuck her more than she could have believed. She maneuvered Denise around the corner of the counter, and threw herself into the older woman’s trembling arms. The two stroked each other lovingly, trading quick, exploratory kisses and nibbles. Denise stopped her hands at Brianna’s firm, upturned breasts, and circled each thumb around the hard nipple underneath the cotton of the shirt. Brianna whimpered a little, and took a long, luxurious drag. She reached down and cupped Denise’s chin in her small hand, bringing her face up to hers as she exhaled fragrant smoke. “I want you to lick my pussy,” she whined, pleading and demanding at the same time.

Denise, heterosexual soccer mom, nodded happily as she slid to her knees and tugged at Brianna’s zipper. She was only slightly surprised to find no panties beneath, and that the girl had recently shaved herself completely. Denise slid a tentative tongue up the warm, wet center, and heard Brianna’s sobbing cry of pleasure in response. Becoming more adventurous, Denise plunged her tongue in deep, her chin coming to rest on the girl’s pubic bone, her front teeth grazing Brianna’s clitoris. The redhead began to undulate her hips; her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut. Denise pistoned her tongue in and out, her hands clenching Brianna’s firm ass, using the leverage to grind her mouth harder and faster. Her tongue became mischievous, alternating between diving into the girl’s thoroughly saturated hole and teasing her now prominent clitoris. Brianna shook all over, moaning incoherent urgings and devotions. Denise removed one hand from the girl’s bucking ass to raise her own skirt and commence rubbing herself furiously as Brianna screamed her orgasm.

The teenager dropped to her knees, her eyes blank with ecstasy, and Denise stared at her with desire as she sped up her masturbation. A naughty inspiration came to her, and she made herself stand and find the girl’s cigarettes. While the redhead was still finding her way back from stunned bliss, Denise lit one up and discovered that it felt good to be the smoker. So sultry, so commanding. She attempted to mimic the french-inhale that Brianna had teased her with, and lovingly blew the smoke at the girl’s dazed, pleasure- slack face as Brianna stared up at her. The girl was at once swept back into joyous passion, and Denise gently guided her face into Denise’s waiting crotch. “Your turn now, sweetie,” she softly commanded.

The rain started to fall, insistent tiny footfalls on the hard surfaces outside. The storm had begun.