The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lying in the sun on this relatively isolated beach near St John’s, in the Virgin Islands, Jennifer Hansen was not only enjoying the warmth on her skin, but mainly the feeling of being herself, alone, free—if only temporarily. Biff had gone to get some drinks, and this time he had not left her any instructions aside from staying put and not to hide her body. All in all, this was a rather minor set of instructions. And so she was left to savor the pleasures of this idyllic area of the Caribbean, her very own gilded prison.

She spotted from the corner of her eye a group of older teenage boys walking past the towel she was lying on, local black kids judging from their clothes and general demeanor, and saw them openly stare at her. And why would they not? she reflected bitterly. I look amazing, my body’s taken to the sun like a fish to water, and this micro-bikini hides absolutely nothing. When she felt their eyes on her, she could not help the thrill of arousal shooting straight to her crotch, and her body reacted automatically ever since—before she could complete the thought, her nipples tightened, her thighs clenched, and her pussy started juicing up. Here we go again.

The boys whistled as they walked past her. “Nice tits, babe!"—“Want me to rub some lotion on you? I got great hands!"—“You fuck as good as you look?” Nothing terribly original, nothing she had not heard a thousand times already since they had landed on this goddamned island already a month ago.

She felt no compulsion to respond to their prompts—Biff had made sure that her body would react to people looking at her, but mercifully did not force her to engage in conversation automatically anymore—and she was grateful that they did not actually stop to pester her. They kept walking and admiring her body, their gaze lingering on her breasts, barely covered by two small triangular patches over her nipples, before traveling down to her taut stomach and then to her crotch, also barely covered by a triangular patch even smaller than those over her nipples, and then down her long naked legs. Biff wanted her on display. She was insanely thankful that he was not there right then, as he would almost certainly have made her put on a show of some sort for those boys.

Biff. She could feel her body tense and her teeth clench. What had he done to her? That question was still going round and round in her head, like an earworm of which she could not rid herself. In those rare instances when he let her speak freely, she had asked him—okay, screamed at him—and he had always merely replied that it was magic and that he had used his amazing mesmerizing powers, all of that said with his most sufficient smile.

She had had a lot of time to reconstruct the sequence of events that led her to her current situation, but she was missing a lot, and it was not even clear that knowing what had happened was helpful. It started with Biff cornering her after one of her classes back in January, and he must have drugged her because everything was a blur after that, a blur in which images flashed in and out—lab equipment, Biff, a bespectacled young man she later learned was called Bernie, other images that she could not identify. And then the memories of what she caught herself calling her disconnected life—obeying whatever Biff told her to do, her consciousness a silent passenger in her own body, a witness to the events of her life, unable to affect them. When Biff had showed up at her apartment and ordered her to give him head. When he had called her after class the next day and told her to dress sexy and go meet him and he had taken her for the first time, while he recorded everything; and afterwards when Bernie had shown up and injected her with something and everything became a blur again. When they skipped from cheap motel to cheap motel, finally ending up in that abandoned farm house, before this trip to the Caribbean which Biff had seemed so angry about but went through anyway. Memories. She had screamed herself hoarse there at the beginning—in a manner of speaking, of course, since she was trapped inside her own head. But not anymore. She was tired of screaming. It did not work. Nothing did. She was a toy for Biff, a life-sized doll for him to play with.

And play with her he did.

It had been nonstop since that first day, over and over again. She shivered internally just thinking about it all. He did not seem to get tired of taking her. Wherever they were, whomever was around, he would slip his dick between her legs and take her, hard and fast. He loved her mouth, spending many hours just sitting back and watching her bob her head up and down on his dick until she felt her jaw would fall off. And he had a special fondness for her ass, which he had fucked for the first time after a week of preparation. Plucking her anal cherry, he still called it. Bastard.

Two months of sexual slavery. There was no other word for it. She hated it, hated it all, which made it all the more worse. Because Biff had made sure that her body would be exquisitely sensitive to any sort of stimulation, even just being looked at. Just the thought of someone’s hands running down her sides to her hips was enough to make her pussy tingle in anticipation. And when a dick slid inside her—Jesus, it felt like nothing else in the world! She hated what she was doing, what she had no choice of doing, but at the same time, she was at the receiving end of pleasure unlike any she had ever felt before. Her body was betraying her, over and over again. Is this how you go insane? she wondered.

Had she, in fact, gone insane? Was that the explanation? Was this all a supremely complex hallucination her sick brain was conjuring up? That thought was almost comforting. A vision of herself in an insane asylum—in a corner of a fully padded room, drooling all over herself, arms tied in a straight jacket to keep her from frigging herself to death—flashed in her mind, and even that image made her pussy juice up. Another wonderful gift from Biff, who thought it was a hoot to get her body to react with arousal whenever she felt humiliated.

At the periphery of her perception, she felt the teenage boys moving away, turning their heads to look at her and let their eyes crawl over her exposed body one last time.

One last time. Daniel. Oh God, Daniel! Stop it, she chided herself. Don’t go there. But she did. She flashed back to that one last time she had seen her fiance, fast asleep in their bed and hugging her pillow. He had looked so peaceful, untroubled by anything, almost innocent. She had wanted to shake him awake, beg him to run away with her, run far, far, away from Biff and his friends. But she did not. She could not. Biff’s instructions had been to act normal until he contacted her again, and so she had merely kissed Daniel lightly on the forehead, left him a short note to thank him for what she feared was their last night together and to tell him that she was thinking of renting a movie for the evening. And then she had gone to class. And then Biff had snatched her away. “Dress sexy, doll” Biff had told her, “and come meet me at this address.” And she had done it. She had gone back home to pick up her sexiest yet classy outfit—her favorite dress shirt with that short black skirt that she had worn at her prom and had made her date almost spill his drink—and she had had one last look around, scared beyond measure that she would not be allowed to return, that Biff would keep her to himself, unwilling to let her go, and unable to do anything about it. She had felt so alone, would have given anything for a chance to feel Daniel’s arms around her telling her everything would be all right. But that kind of succor had not been available—it rarely was, she had discovered early in life—and she was now indeed alone.

All the more so because who knew what Daniel thought of her at this moment? As far as he knew, she had dumped him to go frolic with Biff. The fact that on their last night together, following Biff’s instructions to fuck him as well as she knew how, she had seduced her fiance by telling him a story featuring Biff must have in retrospect felt like twisting the knife in the wound. Never mind that she had been trying to tell him what had happened to her, within the leeway of the instructions that Biff had given her—Daniel had not picked up on the clues. And why should he have, she despaired, it’s not like I was behaving much different than usual. And clearly, he had seemed to enjoy it.

Oh, Daniel had searched for her at first, she was sure of it. That may have been the reason why Biff had them skip from hiding place to hiding place. There had been that sleazy-looking private investigator on their tail. But of course, Biff had been unable to resist the temptation and had sent her off to seduce the man, telling her to offer him her best blow job, and also to give him her engagement ring and a message for Daniel, namely that it was all over between them. Between that and the video clips of her fucking with enthusiasm and eagerness and imagination that Biff recorded and that he said he regularly emailed to Daniel—he had this sick kick of wanting to torture Daniel by showing him how much of a slut his fiancee could be for other men, like the first time Biff claimed her ass, her first threesome with another girl, her first gang bang—well, she could understand that Daniel might want nothing else to do with her.

And then Biff had discovered that she liked to write, had a talent for spinning tales, and had forced her to compose some of the emails he was sending to Daniel recounting her adventures—porn, pure and simple, with me as the star, she thought—she could only imagine that Daniel would think she was enjoying torturing him, and might want to just forget about her, thinking of her as a cruel cheating bitch. How could she blame him? She could not hope that he trusted her enough to know that she was not doing any of it of her own free will. After all, even she did not understand what was happening. Were Daniel right before her, she would not know even where to start explain what was going on. And that was assuming that Biff would let me talk freely—she shivered at what Biff could make her do or say were she to see Daniel again. Perhaps it was all for the best that she was so far from him.

“So did those boys check you out good, doll?” Biff’s voice, always faintly mocking, boomed from behind her. His shadow crept over her. “Because I gotta tell you, the view’s damn nice from up here.”

She looked up over her sunglasses at the upside-down hulking figure. He was holding two large glasses filled with multicolored liquid in swirling patterns. He was wearing a tee shirt and bermuda shorts, the typical American student on an island party binge outfit. Here we go again, she moaned inside.

“They did, big guy,” she said, unable to control her words or her tone of voice, low and sultry. In her mind, she pictured it as a thick veneer over her personality, one that she had absolutely no control over, making her act as a nymphomaniac girlfriend—all per Biff’s instructions, of course. It was still her, anyone could hear, anyone could tell, but she was not driving. Even though she had been living like this for weeks now, it remained disconcerting and scary as all hell. “Jennie could see them stare at her big titties, wanting to grab them and press into them hard, you know, the way you like to do it? But they just walked away.” She managed to sound disappointed.

Biff grinned, and dropped down next to her. He handed her one of the glasses. The concoction tasted like someone had poured out a bottle of rum, and added some fruit juice as an afterthought to give it color. Yet, she drank it, propped on one elbow.

“Sorry you didn’t get to feel their hands on you, doll. I know how you like strangers groping you. I bet you’re all wet now, ain’t you? My little beach slut...”

Jenn felt her hand move to her crotch and push aside the tiny triangle covering her slit and run a finger through it. She moaned softly, her hips shifting up with the motion. She did not fight her body—that never worked anyway—and she was rewarded by a lance of pleasure stabbing through her clit. She pulled her finger out and brought it to her lips, letting it hover teasingly. “You’re right, big guy. Jennie is dripping wet, as you can see.” she said, sliding her wet finger through her lips and sucking on it, her eyes in Biff’s eyes. “Jennie is all ready for you. Would you like to fuck Jennie? You could give those boys a little show. Show them what they’re missing out on?” Please don’t, she pleaded internally. Not out here. Take me back to our room if you’re gonna have me.

Biff let his eyes travel down her body, and he licked his lips. Jenn felt her nipples tighten in response, and she knew full well that Biff had noticed, because he grinned widely. But rather than proceed with fondling her, as she was expecting, he leaned back and stared in the distance where the teenage boys were kicking a soccer ball around, drinking beer. He grinned again.

“A tempting offer, doll, but I have another idea. It’s been a while we haven’t recorded a little something for your ex-fiance, hasn’t it? I think I know exactly what would make for a great movie.” He paused dramatically, taking a sip from his drink.

Oh fuck, she thought, not that.

Biff seemed to read her mind. “How about you go and see those boys down there and invite them over to our suite later tonight? I think it’ll be fun. We’ll have ourselves a little party. Go on, doll, go invite then. Now.”

His tone made the command clear, so there was no room for her to interpret his instructions creatively. She reluctantly accepted that she would most likely be the star of another gang bang tonight. One day, she thought, one day I’ll get you for this, you fucking bastard.

She stood up and shook off the sand that had blown onto her skin. As she reached down to grab her towel, Biff stopped her. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Go like that. I don’t want you covering that hot little body of yours. Besides, how are you going to convince them to come along if you’re not showing off your wares? Whatever you do, make sure they accept your gracious invitation. I want you at your most persuasive, if you know what I mean.” He winked exaggeratedly.

She felt her face smile, her hips cock to the side. “Of course, big guy. Jennie will be at her most convincing. She will use her best... arguments.” She grabbed her breasts and squeezed them, to her own embarrassment.

“Looks good, doll. Whatever works. Now move that cute ass of yours before they scram.”

She could feel his eyes on her body as she made her way down the beach to where the boys that had ogled her earlier were hanging out. She tried to focus on the warm sand beneath her feet, the hot sun on her skin, the light breeze that caught in her hair, anything to avoid thinking about what she was doing.

As she neared them, her body went automatically into what she had come to call high seduction mode. Her steps became shorter, her movements more fluid, her hips swayed more—every movement ensuring that her breasts would bounce as much as possible. She knew her face harbored a little smile, her eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses, but looking hungry. She reached up to untie the ponytail that kept her hair up and let her long hair cascade down to her shoulders. She had no illusions—she knew she looked like a wet dream, and could foresee exactly what the next few minutes would look like. She braced herself for it, knowing there was no fighting it, and she hated that all she was left with was trying to find solace in the pleasure that those boys ogling and pawing her would bring.

The boys noticed her when she was almost upon them. One of them saw her first and stared—earning a soccer ball to the face for his trouble—and he pointed her out excitedly to his friends. They stopped what they were doing and watched her approach. This time they remained silent, probably unsure of her intentions.

She advanced in the middle of the rough semicircle they formed, all five of them. Once there, she stuck a model’s pose, head high, chest thrust out, with one leg off the side and one hand on her hip. “Hello boys,” she said, her voice low, caressing, enticing.

The boys stared, dumbstruck. Their eyes roamed up and down her body, and it reacted to the attention. She felt her breasts swell, her clit throb, her pussy moisten. Her body was getting ready for sex. Getting primed, Biff called it, like a car revving up before a race. From the boys’ expressions, she knew they had noticed her nipples hardening through her minuscule bikini. Here she was, practically naked but for a few patches of material on her nipples and her crotch, tanned and glistening and looking like a goddess on this Caribbean beach.

“You boys like what you see?” Clearly they needed a bit of a push. All their earlier bluster seemed to have gone out of them. They looked like the teenage boys they were, unsure how to act with a woman that was comfortable with her own sexuality. Little do they know, she thought. “You were certainly looking at Jennie hard enough back there. It made Jennie feel all dirty. And you know what?” She paused, then slowly spun on herself, hearing them gasp when she faced away from them and they could see exactly how much material was not covering her rear, getting a perfectly view of her ass barely marred by a tiny string running between her cheeks. When she completed her turn, she saw that they all sported erections. “Jennie really enjoys feeling dirty,” she purred.

They were staring at her, silent, motionless. She had taken them by surprise, she figured. Between the fact that she was taking the initiative, and the fact that she was referring to herself in the third person—something Biff had her do once and had made permanent once he realized how much he enjoyed it and how much it disgusted her—the boys had no idea what she was up to, and would not make a move. She, therefore, had the take the first step.

She cast her attention towards one of the boys, who had his eyes glued to her breasts. He was of average height, and looked like every other local boy on the island. He looked young, innocent, and his eyes seemed kind. She smiled, and took a step towards him. “Do you like them?” she asked him. His eyes widened and he looked like he was about to scamper away. “It’s okay,” she soothed him. “You can look. You can look as much as you want. After all, if Jennie wears a suit likes this, it must be because she wants boys like you to look, don’t you think?” She slid her hands beneath her breasts and hefted them up, squeezing them together. The boy’s eyes widened even more. “Would you like to touch them?” she asked softly. The way that boy was looking at her made her almost blush—he was acting like he was in the presence of an angel. She smiled encouragingly, and stepped yet closer to him. The boy lifted a hand, cautiously, hesitatingly, and let it hover a few inches from her chest without going any further. There was a deep silence, the tension building, almost palpable.

The spell was broken when one of the boys, taller than the others, spoke up. “Come on, Tiger, what are you waiting for?” He tried to sound cool, but there was a hesitation in his voice, a tremor. When she did not react, he continued, the hesitation gone. “Come on, grab her tits already!” There he is, she thought, the one I have to get on board. Get him, and they’ll all follow. The boy he had called Tiger came to a decision, and ran two fingers from the middle of her chest down to the insides of one of her breasts before palming it with a slightly shaking hand.

Jenn moaned. Not only was her body primed to respond to the boy’s touch, but it actually felt good. And from the look on Tiger’s face, this must have been the first time he had touched a woman’s breast. She cooed softly. “There you go, Tiger. Just like that—press on it. Does it feel good?” His eyes never leaving her chest, he nodded, slowly, a wonderful smile spreading over his features.

Tiger squeezing her breasts—he now had both of his hands on her chest, caressing her—was the needed catalyst. One of the boys, tall and gangly, cheered—“Hell yeah! Tiger! Squeeze her tits!"—while the remaining two high-fived and grinned widely. Jenn looked around the group, catching the eyes of every single one of the boys while Tiger had his two hands on her breasts fondling and stroking them softly.

Everyone was staring at her with what she recognized as hunger in their eyes, having lost their initial uneasiness, and the pairing of their evident lust and Tiger’s hands groping her triggered a wave of arousal to surge through her body. Her gaze landed on the tallest boy, the one that had urged Tiger on just before. His eyes were slowly roaming over her body, taking in every detail, and Jenn was painfully aware of how naked she actually was. She wanted to blush and cover herself, but instead looked directly at the tall boy, a teasing smile on her face. Time to close the deal, she thought.

She gently took Tiger’s hands in hers and took a step forward to give him a kiss on the corner of the mouth. “Thank you Tiger. Your hands felt wonderful,” she whispered. Tiger did not respond, only looked at her with his large eyes. Following some instinct, she added, “you must be quite popular with the ladies. You have great hands.” He blushed violently, but still said nothing.

Jenn turned towards the tall boy, and slowly, teasingly, took the few steps needed to bring her right in front of him. “Hey there,” she said, keeping her voice low. She took another step, and was now deep into his personal space, her face no more than six inches from his. He was maybe half a head taller than she was, so she had to look up slightly. She put on her best doe eyes. “And what’s your name?”

“They call me Bulldog,” he said.

“Jennie.”

“Yeah, I kindda got that.” He looked down to her chest, admiring what Tiger had handled just seconds earlier.

“Tiger, Bulldog... do you all have animal names?”

Bulldog nodded. “That’s us. We’re the Wild Crew. We’re the bad boys around here. You got Weasel over there—” he pointed to a slight boy with short cropped hair, a quiet demeanor, and shifty eyes, “you got Mantis—” he pointed to the tall gangly boy who had cheered earlier, “and then you got Rhino there—” and he pointed to a large boy standing between Mantis and Tiger. Every one of the boys responded to their name by striking a pose with some attitude—trying to impress her with their power and coolness. Right—the bad boys around here. She would have laughed had she been able to. Instead, she turned her attention back to Bulldog.

“So you’re the boss then? The top dog, so to speak?”

The boys chuckled at that, and Bulldog gave a twisted smile.

“You could say that. That’s my crew, right here.”

“Well, you should know, Bulldog, that Jennie was getting pretty lonely down there, all by herself, and she is in the mood for some fun tonight. Do you think Jennie could interest you and your crew in a little party that she and her boyfriend are throwing tonight?” Jenn stepped closer to Bulldog, the tip of her nipples grazing his chest through her bikini, her lips a breath away from his.

“A party, huh? And who’s going to be there at that party of yours?” Bulldog ran the tip of his finger from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow, sending shivers down her spine.

“Well,” said Jenn, looking coy, “there’s going to be you, and hopefully him, and him, and him, and him, and—of course—Jennie and her boyfriend.”

“Right. And what about that boyfriend of yours?”

“Oh, he’s cool. Let’s just say that he likes to share his toys. And Jennie is by far his favorite toy to share.”

Jenn closed the distance between her and Bulldog, her breasts pressing against his naked chest. She felt shivers run down from her sensitive nipples all the way down to her crotch. She exhaled, knowing that Bulldog could feel her warm breath on his lips.

Bulldog’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sounds too good to be true...” he said, his voice trailing off.

“Oh it is,” whispered Jenn, her voice throaty. “It’s better than anything you could possibly imagine. You know those dreams you have at night when no one is looking? Jennie can make all of those dreams come true. It will be a party you won’t forget—ever.” She pressed her lips on his, and like a dam bursting he grabbed her and pulled her against him, squishing her body, flattening her breasts against his chest. Her leg slinked between his, rubbing up and down slowly. The kiss deepened, his tongue invading her mouth, her own responding in kind. Jenn was used to kissing strange men by now, and while it was not pleasant, at least his breath was fresh. She tried her usual trick, shutting off her mind and imagining that she was in a deep embrace with Daniel, and that made it somewhat more bearable.

Bulldog ran a hand down her back and cupped one of her ass cheeks, pulling her pelvis up and hard against his crotch, and she felt the raging erection in his shorts. Her body reacted to the contact as if she had touched a hot plate. She stiffened and shivered and moaned in his mouth, and he kissed her harder. Part of her, the part she could not control, the part that Biff had messed with, wanted nothing more than to feel Bulldog’s hard cock ravaging her. She marveled at the strength of the feeling, knowing that however much the act might disgust her, it would also bring her untold pleasure. That was Biff’s cruel legacy, to make her enjoy—crave—something she hated so much.

Bulldog eventually broke the kiss, leaving her panting. He grinned smugly. “Fine. We’ll come to your party. But I’ll hold you up to what you said. It better be worth it.”

“Oh, it will be worth it, trust Jennie. Eight o’clock, room 13 of the Lilac Bloom. You know where it is?”

“Of course.”

“Jennie will see you all there, then.” Jenn exhaled within the confines of her mind. This had been easier than she had feared. She turned around, making sure to give Bulldog a good look at her ass, and his intake of breath was enough to suggest he greatly enjoyed the view.

The boy called Tiger was still looking at her, but unlike all the others, he was staring straight at her face. She smiled, and stepped up to him. She caressed his face, young and soft. “How about you, Tiger? Are you going to be there this evening? Are you going to come and party with Jennie?”

Tiger nodded forcefully.

“Jennie thinks you and her will have a lot of fun together,” she whispered. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth, closing her eyes. His lips were tentative, and she instinctively knew that this was his first time kissing a girl. The kiss was a bright flare of innocence in a past several weeks severely lacking any. The thought that she would likely take his virginity tonight made her feel both guilty and warm inside, as well as adding to her overall arousal.

Her hand lingering on his face and his untrained lips, she turned to go, happy to leave their circle and their leering gaze. She had taken three steps before the tall gangly boy that Bulldog had called Mantis spoke up.

“Hey Jennie—who’s Biff?”

Jenn’s heart sank. Of course—what did I expect, that they would not notice?

Like Biff had instructed her to do whenever the situation arose, she turned around to face the five boys, and stood straight, running her hands down her body to rest on the strings of her bikini bottoms, pushing them out slightly and framing the tattoo that graced her lower belly in a rainbow arc a hair’s breath above her clit—the words Biff’s Cunt in dark red ink. She remembered when Biff had brought her to that tattoo parlor, how embarrassed she had been to strip down and let the artist work, having to reply pleasantly to his sexist banter, while Biff stood by regaling the artist with anecdotes about her many sexual skills. Biff had contemplated letting the tattoo artist fuck her by way of payment, but he had not followed through. Biff had also toyed with the idea of having her nipples pierced, but there again he had not followed through. But the threat lingered in the air, and it served to emphasize just how little control she had over Biff making permanent changes to her body.

And now, everyone that she stripped for, everyone that she fucked, everyone that was granted use of her body could not help but see that tattoo over her pussy, and they sometimes asked about it, sometimes merely snickered, and always it reminded her of what she was.

None of this showed on her face. She smiled wide to the five boys, her hands framing her tattoo. “Biff is Jennie’s boyfriend, of course.” She winked at them. “Jennie will see you all later, boys.”

Leaving them with their questions, she turned on her heels and left, making sure that she swayed her ass tantalizingly as she walked.