The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

James McGregor had tried to stay at home to wait for Rebecca to be returned to him, but the tension he had been feeling in his gut and in his neck and the small of his back had threatened to drive him to tears and when he caught himself screaming at the maid because she had sneezed in that particular way that always drove him crazy but that day made him want to claw her eyes out, he figured he might need to get out of the house.

He called up an acquaintance from his country club, and arranged to meet him half an hour later to play squash. The idea of hitting a small ball with all of his strength called to him in a primal way.

He did not apologize to the maid.

Four hours later, after trouncing his opponent—who had had the good sense to recognize the murderous stare in James’s eyes and let him win most of the balls while still putting up a credible fight—and after a sauna and a shower and a full body massage topped with a blow job from a girl that spoke too little English but had the tongue and lips of a professional whore, James headed home, not feeling any better, but definitely feeling more tired.

He had been home for nearly an hour, fidgeting with an old ship-in-a-bottle model he had purchased upon learning that some famous CEO used to build them as a way to train his focus and concentration and achieve more effectiveness, pushing around the small wooden pieces and picking them up and examining them before putting them back down, when he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing.

He took a breath, polished off his glass of brandy, and left his study.

Rebecca was in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of juice. She looked no different than before. She wore a tight pair of slacks, a closed cropped top that emphasized her breasts ever more than usual, and had her hair up in a ponytail. She was the Rebecca he had always known. Even though he had been told there would be no physical changes—because he had not asked for them—he still had expected something to be different. Something. Anything.

When Rebecca turned in his direction, she jumped upon seeing him, nearly dropping her glass. “Jesus, Jim! You scared me!” She lifted a hand to her chest, closing her eyes. “I didn’t know you were home, I’m sorry. I didn’t see your car. I’d have said hi.”

She even sounded like herself, James thought. Again, he did not know what he had been expecting. “Yes, the Mercedes is in the garage. I came home early. The office was getting… unbearable. I figured I’d get more done here.”

“You feeling okay? You hardly ever work from home.” She took a step toward him, a slight frown on her face.

Did she move more sensually than before, he wondered? More suggestively?

“Baby, are you okay?” She was close now, and her frown had deepened. She lifted a hand to his forehead, but he intercepted it.

The plan, he reminded himself. Stick with the plan.

“Rebecca,” he said, remembering the instructions Sherry had given him, and looking at his wife in the eyes, trying not to feel foolish. “Adjustment code C007.”

Had he not been peering into her eyes so assiduously, he might have missed the way her pupils widened for a second before returning to normal. He might also have missed the slight stiffening of her spine.

She closed her eyes, and opened them again. She was still his Becky, the girl that had seduced him, that had shared his bed and his life, the girl he was proud to exhibit on his arm, but there was a heat, a fire, a lust in her eyes that he had never seen before.

In slow motion, he noted how she licked her lips, how a naughty smile formed, how her breath deepened, and knew before she did it that she was about to kiss him, and when she did, it was like he had never kissed her before. It was less a kiss than an attack. She did not so much kiss him as suck all the breath out of his lungs, devour his tongue, lick his tonsils. There was a quality in it that James had only ever been exposed to once in his life, a long time ago, when he was still young, still innocent, before he found himself, with his first wife, back when they were just getting to know each other—raw unbridled passion.

Even as he lost himself in the kiss, for once taken by surprise and without a plan, even as her large breasts pressed into his chest, as her legs rubbed against his, part of him was dimly aware that Rebecca had never even come close to exhibit such feelings, even in the deepest throes of their love making, yet chose not to pursue the implications of that observation.

He was still a mental step behind when he felt Rebecca push him back into one of the dining room chairs. She straddled him and resumed her kiss, her ass pressing into his newly grown erection with insistence.

“Hi baby,” she said, practically purring the words.

“Huh, hi?”

“I missed you.”

“I… I missed you too.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, as if her meaning ought to be clear. To emphasize her words, she ground her ass on his crotch, making him squirm.

“You don’t understand,” she repeated, her breathing now slightly ragged. “I missed you.” She brought one of his hands to her face and with her eyes locked into his she sucked on his middle finger, slowly, deeply, her lips pursed tightly and silky wet. James found himself groaning.

“I’ve missed your cock deep down my throat,” Rebecca said, again purring it out like a hungry feline. “I missed it filling up my mouth, pushing deep inside me, pressing down my gullet.”

James was starting to recover, amazed at the work of Family Counseling Services. “Did you really?”

“Oh yes,” she said, breathlessly. “Want me to show you how much I missed your cock, baby?”

Without waiting for his answer, she sank to the floor between his legs, making sure she rubbed her body on his the whole way, her fantastically tight body, that body for which so may of his friends and colleagues envied him—she sank to the floor as if she were water tumbling down his body.

And once there, her face intent, her eyes crazy with desire, her lips wet with anticipation, she unfastened his belt and trousers and fished out his throbbing cock and without preliminaries she took him deep in her mouth.

James’s breath caught in his throat, and his hips jerked forward of their own volition.

She had sucked him off before, of course. It was proper duty for a wife towards the husband that supported her. And James knew that she was talented—she never failed to bring him off quickly.

But this blow job was unlike any she had given him. She lavished praise upon his cock, taking him so deep into her warm wet mouth that her eyes watered, her tongue and palate and lips working wonders and doing unexplainable things to the head of his cock, to his shaft, sucking hard as he pulled out, opening up wide as she took him in.

She had never sucked him like this before, and he wondered if she ever sucked her lover like that, and that thought jerked him out of the reverie he had sunk into.

The plan, he thought. Stick with the plan.

He clenched his jaw.

Reluctantly, he pulled Rebecca off his cock, relishing her groan of disappointment, the way her tongue sneaked out to try to catch a last lick, the string of drool connecting her chin to his shaft. His mind immediately flashed to the special adjustment he had asked for, and anticipation once again sent a flush of arousal through his body.

Rebecca felt it, and taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she dove onto his cock again and sucked it in deep, almost all the way, gagging hard but not letting him go, and James let her try to swallow him whole for a few seconds, enjoying the sensations.

And then he pulled her head off his cock again, jerking her hard by her convenient ponytail. “Come on, honey—we’ve got a plan to follow through on. Are you ready?”

“I want your cock,” she whined, her hand clutching his, her lips parted like a newborn seeking a nipple. “Please!”

“Don’t worry,” James laughed, feeling the tension of the past few days drawing slowly out of him. He was rock hard. He wanted her to finish him off, but he also knew himself enough to realize that he would enjoy what was to come all the more if he was aroused. It was all about anticipation. “You’ll get plenty of cock to suck on very soon.”

There was still a problem to take care of first.

“Rebecca,” he said, looking at her cock-hungry eyes, “adjustment code X100.”

Half an hour later, James McGregor was sitting in his study again, wiling away the time, when he heard a noise outside. Rebecca was still activated, and was busy getting ready in their bedroom, primping herself up.

James spied through the window a slim young man gingerly walk up the main driveway, trying to appear nonchalant. Rebecca’s lover, James assumed. The young man took a careful look around, and James congratulated himself on putting his Mercedes in the garage.

It had been dead simple to get Rebecca’s lover to come to the house. When James had activated Rebecca with the first special adjustment he had asked for, she had called her lover. Doug. What kind of shitty name is Doug anyway? Rebecca told Doug that she wanted him, that she needed him. If her lover had any qualms about showing up at her house, they were wiped out when Rebecca cooed into the phone in a way that made even James hard despite the anger the conversation was causing that she wanted to “fuck your brains out in the bed I share with my stupid lame husband.” It proved effective, even if it did nothing for James’s mood.

James watched Rebecca’s lover, Doug, walk up to the door, and observed him with a critical eye. The young man looked okay. He was average. Nothing special. He did not look rich, did not look powerful. James had half-expected him to be a hunk, the big and stupid kind, the kind that would prey on pretty wives left alone at home, but Doug was no hunk, nor did he look stupid. He was normal. What did Rebecca see in him? James wondered, genuinely puzzled.

Doug rang the doorbell, and James walked to his study door, which he had kept ajar. He peered through the thin opening, and watched Rebecca walk down the stairs, the clicking of her high heels on the steps a symphony that heralded her appearance.

James’s eyes widened. His wife looked stunning. She sported a corset that he had never seen, light purple, cinching her waist and making her already prominent breasts look even larger and sitting even higher on her chest, half-bared as they were by the garment. Her thong was white and flimsy and exposed her entire ass. Her legs were shod in white stockings that perfectly contrasted with her tanned skin. On her feet she wore white platform heels that would not have been out of place in a high-class strip club. She looked elegant and sexy, skirting the line of sluttishness in a way that was seductive in and of itself.

James felt a stab of jealousy and white hot envy that pierced his heart. He had not given her specific instructions on how to dress, had merely told her to get ready to welcome her lover. She had chosen her manner of dress, James had to presume, based on how she would have normally gotten dressed for her lover.

James’s anger flared. She was his. Doug had no right to his property.

Rebecca opened the door and ushered her young lover inside, and before Doug could say or do anything she kissed him, a kiss not unlike the one she had given James earlier when he had first activated her, a kiss that centered on her lips but was a whole-body affair. She held Doug’s head as she kissed him, and his own hands trailed down her back to end up on her naked ass.

“Becky, are you okay? I was worried!” His voice was normal. Not particularly deep, not particularly soft.

“Of course I’m okay. Why?”

“You didn’t show up yesterday, and you didn’t contact me or anything. I thought he had found out about us and done something to you.”

Rebecca laughed. “He’s done nothing to me, don’t worry. I’m sorry I missed our meeting. I went off for a little spa treatment—I was feeling a bit down. I’m much better now. And I’m all ready to make it up to you,” she said, naughtily.

“I love you,” Doug said, and there was an earnestness in his voice that James mistook for naiveté.

“Like crazy,” she replied, and kissed him again before laughing happily, a laugh that James had never heard from her lips, a laugh that was like rain falling on crystal, bright and young and happy. It confused him, and he wondered whether this was all part of the adjustment process.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Doug said, as Rebecca wiggled in his grasp. “You’re too good, too smart, too kind. Too beautiful. He doesn’t really see you. Not like I do.”

“That’s why you’re here, silly.” She kissed him again, at the same time rubbing her body up and down against him. “Because you do see me. The real me.”

“I love you,” Doug repeated.

“Like crazy!” Rebecca kissed him again, and wiggled out of his grasp, the motion making her large breasts bounce enticingly and both Doug and James watched with irrepressible rapture.

“Take your pants off,” Rebecca told Doug, pointing with a finger.

“What? Here?”

“Why not? It’s kinky. I feel kinky today. No. Not kinky. Dirty. I feel like a dirty little minx today. I hope you don’t mind. I’m going to do all sort of crazy nasty things to you that are going to blow your mind!”

Doug had no chance, not with Rebecca looking the way she did and sounding the way she did. He walked to the living room, and started to shed his trousers.

With his back turned, Doug did not see Rebecca pick up the golf club that James had left there for her. It was the seven iron with which he had played his eagle on the eighteenth hole which had won him third place at the California Business Invitational ten years earlier. It was a good club.

Rebecca took the club, hefted it, and grasping it in a baseball grip swung it over her shoulder. She turned to Doug, who was struggling with his trousers.

And then, to James’s horror, she hesitated.

Golf club over her shoulder, her face tightened and her whole body trembled, fighting whatever it was that was driving her to do what James needed her to do.

Do it! James screamed inside his head. Do it, bitch!

Doug must have felt something, for he turned around, trousers around his ankles, and nearly stumbled down when he saw her poised with the golf club over her shoulder, shaking hard. He looked horrified, lifted a hand. “Becky! What are you doing!”

He almost stumbled again trying to take a step back. Rebecca was shaking harder.

James’s rage overwhelmed him. How dare she? How DARE she? He slammed the door open. “Do it! Do it! You fucking CUNT! DO IT!”

Doug turned toward the scream, pale as a ghost, and James had the satisfaction of seeing the young man’s eyes widen in terror before Rebecca swung the golf club and smashed her lover’s left knee.

Howling in pain, Doug collapsed to the ground, as Rebecca swung the golf club again and smashed his other knee. Doug’s screams redoubled, and he clutched his injured legs, crouching into a fetal position on the living room floor.

His screams of pain were deafening, and James drank them like expensive wine. He stopped atop the agonizing young man, who kept his eyes shut tight while clutching his legs. His voice was getting hoarse.

James grinned. Rebecca stood next to him, the golf club dangling from her right hand, her eyes empty and expressionless. She had reached the end of the programming, James figured, and part of him idly wondered what she would do next, whether she would snap out of it, whether she would notice anything awry with her lover hobbled on the ground.

No matter. There was a second step to the plan. One almost as pleasurable as the one that had just occurred.

James placed his foot between the young man’s legs, touching one of the ravaged knees in the process and eliciting a renewed scream of pain. With a smile, he used his foot to flip Doug onto his back, crouching down to finish pulling off the young man’s trousers, the twist the movement imparted on the unfortunate’s legs yielding yet more hoarse screaming.

Straightening back up, James glanced down hoping that Doug would open his eyes and look at him, but the young man did not. James waited for several seconds, but Doug merely alternated between groaning and whimpering and trying to twist back into a crouch.

James kicked him in the crotch, hard.

Doug’s voice broke and he threw up, spewing vomit all over himself and nearly choking on it.

Rebecca never reacted.

“How does it feel, boy?” James snarled. “Not what you were looking for, is it? You stupid little fuck.” He kicked Doug again, who gasped and doubled over in pain. He was deadly white, and never opened his eyes. His breathing was shallow and ragged.

“She’s mine,” James said, resisting the urge to shout. He did not want to appear like he was losing control. “She’s mine, you hear? And I’ll show you just how mine she is. I’ll show you.”

He turned to Rebecca, who was still staring emptily into space. She had dropped the golf club.

“Rebecca,” James said. “Adjustment code X101.”

Just like the first time he activated her, Rebecca stiffened, though he only noticed because he was once again looking at her carefully. She blinked. When her eyes opened, they were no longer empty, but rather filled with something undefinable but that looked a lot like fear.

James held his breath.

Without warning, Rebecca dropped to her knees, and struggled to pull open the top of her corset, ending up ripping it so that her large breasts bounced free, nipples hard and taut.

“Oh baby,” she cried, and it was a cry, filled with pain and despair and fear. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

James release the breath he had been holding.

He stared down at his wife, saw the tears in her eyes, even as she palmed her breasts and pushed them up obscenely, as if she were offering them to him, which in fact she was.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, tears now coursing down her face. She looked up at him, pleading. “He means nothing to me, baby. Nothing. I was stupid. I was a stupid mindless cunt. Stupid and selfish. I’m just a stupid, selfish, worthless cunt. You should punish me—hurt me. Go on, slap my tits. Strike them. Hurt them. They’re yours. You paid for them, right? Then take them. Do what you want with them!”

Doug was still groaning on the ground, whimpering as he clutched his groin, folded in half. Rebecca ignored him completely, focused as she was on James. She was sounding more and more desperate. “It’s all I am, baby—just a pair of funbags, for your pleasure. A pair of funbags, and holes for you to fuck.”

She reached out for one of his hands and before he could react, she pulled it to her face and stuck three of his fingers down her throat, gagging loudly, and more tears streamed down her face. As she choked herself on his fingers, he noted that she had applied fresh makeup when getting ready for Doug to arrive. That was enough to renew the anger in his belly.

Rebecca must have read something in his eyes, because her own eyes widened. “Use my throat, baby—my cunt, my ass—they’re all yours, to fuck as you wish, when you wish, as hard as you wish. I’m nothing, just a fuck bag, a cum dump, a spittoon—spit on me, baby, as you whack my fat tits. Spit on me, baby, SPIT ON ME!”

He did, because she begged for it, and because she was right, it was exactly what she deserved. He spit on her, and she opened her mouth to receive his gift.

“Let me show you how much I’m sorry,” she said, reaching our for his belt, pulling it out and handing it to him, as if she meant for him to use it on her, and then proceeded to open up his trousers and pull out his cock.

She engulfed it in her mouth, and set out to give him the sloppiest dirtiest blow job James had ever witnessed, thrusting her face and her whole body into it, gagging, retching, her mouth open, drool flying all over the place. She pressed his cock deep inside her, taking him deeper than she ever had in the past, deeper than anyone ever had. She pressed his cock deep inside her and kept it there, ensconced in her throat, choking on it, her eyes tearing, her mascara running down her face, drool dripping from her chin onto her large breasts which were soon drenched. Over and over again she did that, driving herself nearly unconscious from lack of air, her eyes never leaving his despite the fact that she probably could not see anything through her tears.

It was the most disturbing thing James had ever seen. And the hottest.

It was so unlike the blow job she had started giving him not an hour earlier that it felt like these were two different women. That blow job had been full of love and passion, an act of worship, where she sought to suck out his juice because making him happy was what made her happy, because she craved his cum, because her drive in life was to please her man. This blow job, well, it was not love, and it was not passion. It was duty. It was punishment. It was surrendering any conception of herself as an independent woman. It was a blow job that a slave would give in exchange for her life.

When he grabbed her head and started fucking her mouth, his wife did not protest. She merely placed her hands behind her back and let James thrust into her unimpeded. She was a passive receptacle for his cock, her mouth a tight wet warm cunt. She was waiting for him to explode in her mouth, to force her to swallow his offering, to make her get him hard again so that he could rape her throat once more.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her head off his cock, and she gasped for air, taking in large gulps that forced saliva to drool down onto her thighs. James tilted her head up, and leaned down over her. “I’m going to possess you now, honey.” He emphasized the term of endearment that he used for her. “And I think you know how.”

She nodded, still breathing hard. “My ass is yours, baby. Just for you. No one’s ever fucked it but you will, whenever you want. Just grab me, your cum rag, your spunk hole, flip me over and shove your cock up my ass and fuck me as long and as hard as you want. Show me what a little piece of filth I am as you plow my ass. Teach me my place, baby. Anything for you!” The despair in her eyes was something to behold. What the fuck did they do to her? he wondered idly. Whatever they did, it worked.

He pushed her towards Doug. “Get on all four. Over him. Straddle him.” She did, and Doug screamed in pain again as she half climbed on top of him, pressing against his shattered knees.

James grinned as he stroked his cock, thoroughly lubed with his wife’s abundant saliva. It would still be a tight fit, of course, but at least he would not skin himself. And after her saliva dried on his cock, well, his poor wife would get the punishment she admitted she deserved.

As he slid up behind his wife’s perfect ass, that perfect ass which she had always denied him until now, he thought about how, once he had come deep in his wife’s bowels, he would pee on them both as they lay there, like a dog marking his territory, before getting someone to take that piece of shit Doug out of his house and dump him somewhere. He ripped off his wife’s skimpy thong, tossing it over his shoulder.

As he lined up his cock against his wife’s pleasantly small asshole, he imagined Rebecca and his secretary Lena together in a lesbo sandwich, licking each other in a tight sixty-nine for his own prurient pleasure as he watched and decided whom he should fuck and in which hole.

And for a second, as he pressed the head of his cock into his wife’s virgin ass, as she groaned under the pain of his cock wrecking its way in, as Doug whimpered in agony underneath them, James McGregor was happy.

A problem had been solved.

ADCORP CONFIDENTIAL MEMO to Adonai Davenham.

SUBJECT: Quarterly earnings (Q2) for ADCorp FCS Group I CALI/NEV

SUMMARY: Revenue slightly below expectation for Q2. Client attrition reversed.

MEMO: Preliminary Q2 earnings report from ADCorp FCS Group I CALI/NEV indicates categorized revenue growth (up 5.23% from Q1) but remaining below expectation at $44.56 million (versus predicted $46.9 million). Categorized revenue tracks below 3% of full predicted FCS revenue. Client acquisition rate increased 10.3% from Q1, on track with numbers from previous three years, reversing Q1 trend. The LA-area FCS group showed an increased (15.9%) client base. Recommend increased yearly bonus. Delinquency rates low at 0.04%. Detailed breakdown in complete Q2 report (attached). Revenue differential likely due to combination of lower global economic activity and elections in CA, along with higher than expected churn rate on Platinum Plan membership, despite IPO of SocialCircles in SF area.