The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The characters and events portrayed here are completely fictional blah-di-blah and any resemblance to other characters and events, real or imagined are purely unintentional blah-di-blah-di-blah. Oh yeah, and if you’re under 18, scram.

This is fiction. Fantasy. Duh.

This is the second part of a series about a Japanese-Californian secret agent grrrl. Her name is Akiko and she’ll kick your ass! :—)

Akiko Sells Out

Kid Rock. That’s how my second day at the Soporo Health spa started. It was on the radio, and for a minute I thought it was my alarm clock. Goddam Kid Rock, I hate waking up to shitty songs on the radio, but I can’t stand beeping alarms either, you know? So I swatted the air next to me, trying to destroy the radio and that fucking song, or at least snooze for ten minutes and get up when something good was on, but my hand smacked on cold concrete.

Come to think of it, all of me was on cold concrete.

I sat up slowly, and let me tell you, it hurt. I had a migraine in my head, a migraine in my neck, a migraine in my pussy—‘scuse my French. I was one big raw nerve. And I was freezing. I was in a tiny cell, almost square. There was no chair, no bed, and the big black door had no handle, only a single keyhole. There was a tiny grate above the door with wire mesh over it. I couldn’t get so much as a finger through that, even if I could magically get up there. The offending song was filtering in through this opening.

Oh, and then I figured out the reason I was so cold. Someone, presumably a guy with a hard-on and serious fucking Yellow Fever, had dressed me in a teensy blue Race Queen outfit, with these absurd aqua logos and numbers all over it. The halter wasn’t any help keeping my back warm and my swollen, tender nipples were abraded—the thing was at least two sizes too small. The skirt would’ve been okay if they’d remembered to give me some underwear. And don’t get me started on the stiletto heels crammed on my feet.

Around this time, my training kicked in. I kicked off the heels and snapped to my feet without making a sound. I started to breathe deeply—from the belly, not the chest. I remembered coming into the spa, doing some on-site recon, then those evil blue dragonflies biting me all over. That was about it. I figured that I blew my cover somehow in the first hour like a stupid rookie. Either that or they ID’d me with security cameras. Now I needed to bust out of this little roach motel.

Thinking back, I wish it’d been that simple, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’ve been in worse jams before, so I started operating on reflex. In minutes I’d found two or three bits of wire on the (very icky and dirty) floor and pieced them together into something to MacGyver my ass out of there. Thirty seconds later and I’d jimmied the lock. The idiot guard on the other side of the door had the radio up so loud he didn’t hear the satisfying snick of the lock giving way, and I was all the way out into the narrow hall, high heels in hand, before he noticed me.

He was a standard issue, regular-army-looking dweebo with a flat top. He folded his newspaper and grinned at me as he stood up from the wooden barstool he was camped out on. “Well now,” he drawled at me, instantly reminding me of the fucking jarheads I roomed with at training camp, “what do we have here?”

He strutted a little to my right, checking my ass out. I was crouched a little in front of him, getting ready to take his ass out. His tongue poked into his cheek while his pea brain tried to come up with something cute to say.

“If it ain’t Chun-Li. Well honey, this ain’t Street Fighter, so you’re gonna hafta go back in your...”

I wasn’t thinking anymore, at least not about him. While he stood there yapping, I bent my free hand into a Mantis hook (Northern Tanglang Chuen style, for those of you keeping score at home. I may be Nipponese, but I like all kinds of fighting styles, Chinese, Brazilian, whatever!) and made solid contact with my favorite pressure point under his left ear. He went down like a sack of wet cheez balls and I snagged his gun and key card. Yoink!

Two dead asshole guards and a few electronic security doors later, I’d caught up with my Miata in the parking deck, hotwired the ignition and was bopping my way back to headquarters. All in all, it was suspiciously easy to get out of there, but at the time I was too sore and exhausted to give it much thought.

* * *

“Akiko! Are you listening?” my superior barked at me. I was in mid-bubble with my gum and it popped as I flinched in my seat—a pretty clear indication that I wasn’t.

At least I was more comfortable—I was out of that stupid Race Queen costume and back into my outfit of choice around headquarters. Black tank, black cargo pants, black boots. Even black underwear, just between you and me.

I quickly slurped the gum back into my mouth and answered, “Yes, ma’am,” as meekly as I could. I was back at Nepthys, in the middle of an epic chew out for fucking up my last mission, so it was time for me to give face to the Boss Lady.

Director Sutton was obviously counting to ten in her head. I could tell she wanted to throttle me. Lucky for me, she likes me too much to stay mad for long. She’s pretty, thirty-something, with long, curly tresses I could stare at for hours. I envy white chicks with natural curls, and she has these sexy ringlets that frame her face. Hot! Too bad she also has this thing for frigid office attire. Anyway, after a deep breath or two, she fixed me with a (slightly softer) glare.

“You don’t have any memory of what happened, and you might have compromised our security during your abduction. But the reason I’m so mad at you is that you were very nearly killed! Field missions are dangerous enough without grandstanding, however talented the operative,” she lectured, the little compliment at the end was to keep me on the hook.

“I know, Keeley. I was stupid.” I think I’m the only Cobalt Op who gets away with using her first name. It’s a long story. “I wouldn’t have gone solo like that if it hadn’t been for those bugs.”

She flicked her way through several pages of my checkup results. “That’s the thing. There’s no trace of any invasive compounds in your blood work. All we could find were twenty or so small puncture wounds all over you.”

She had to remind me. I started to scratch the bug bite on my neck as soon as she said “puncture”.

She frowned, thumbing through the report for a few more seconds. Then she was back to staring at me, coming to judgment. I felt like a teenager awaiting punishment for sneaking out past curfew. “So what’s it gonna be, mom? Am I grounded?” I grinned at her.

“You little shithead,” she chuckled at me, pretending to deck me on the chin. Then she rose up to her full height with a little sigh and shook her head ever so slightly. “As a matter of fact, Akiko, you are grounded. You’re restricted to headquarters for the next 48 hours for observation. You’re out of play, for the moment.”

“Rats,” I complained, stomping the floor like a total brat. I was only half-kidding.

* * *

So I found myself loitering around the commons area, watching different operatives going to and from missions. Some I knew, some I didn’t. Some were alone, some in small packs. Everyone had somewhere to go but me. I was already bored as fuck.

I couldn’t go home and I wasn’t in the mood to surf on a terminal. I’d caught up on z’s after my checkup, so I was pretty wired.

I was about to head up to the court and get my b-ball game on, but then I had a better idea. Or rather, I could tell I was having a really cool idea, but I could only see the first couple of steps in my head.

First, I got the idea to cruise over to Munitions and pick up a few things. Roddy—this excellently hunky black guy from Bristol, England—was on duty when I got there.

“Look who made it back from the jaws of death,” he teased, as I slid up and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“And when have I ever not made it back?” I countered, in my best Valley Girl voice. I’m pretty good at it, it’s almost a required course at UCLA.

“I’m not knockin’ you, love,” he cooed, in that hot, hot Bristol accent of his. “Just want you to keep comin’ back to me, right?”

“Hmmm,” I affirmed, twisting some of my hair around a finger. I usually didn’t get so girlie around him, but it seemed necessary, considering my fabbo idea. “Roddy, I need some things. If I’m stuck here, I wanna do some live drills.”

He frowned apologetically, not wanting to say no to me. “Sorry, dear. You’re on restricted access for the next forty-eight...” He looked at his watch. “Well, forty-seven-and-a-half hours,” he winked. “No can do.”

Oh, we’ll see about that, I sniggered to myself. I love a challenge. I put my hands together on his desk and leaned in toward him, doing a sort of Dachu-no pose. His eyes helplessly roamed over my tits. “Roddy I’m bored,” I pouted. “If I don’t find something to do I’m gonna just dieeeeee.” I bounced up and down a little on the last word—I can be just awful when I put my mind to it.

“Ahhhh,” he coughed, taking a step back from me. Ever the consummate professional. A second later his eyes snapped back up to meet mine. “I suppose we could fix you up with a little something.”

I grinned at him. “Bitchin’. I just need a pair of Glock 17’s and a can of this...” I slipped a folded Post-It across the desk to him, which he unfolded cautiously. His eyes widened.

“This is strong stuff. What do you need it for?”

“Upcoming Assignment. I’m supposed to neutralize some dignitary asswipe and bring him in. I never used this stuff, so Theo volunteered to be my guinea pig.”

He waffled for a minute in front of me, turning the Post-It over and over in his hands.

I took a slightly different tack. “You want me to keep coming back alive, right? Well, let me practice.”

He melted. “Allright, love. You’ve got two hours. After that I’m reporting you to Madam Sutton, at which point you will be in deep...” he trailed off, crisply jabbing his hand a few inches over his head.

“Thanks, Roddy!” I giggled at him, rounding off my little pose at his desk with a curtsy. Guys just love the bowing shit. Ten seconds later I was off, with my Glocks snug between my waistband and my back and a can of mystery gas in my pants pocket.

* * *

Every time I finished doing the thing in my head, I’d get more excited. Then a new idea would appear. This was fun, like an Easter egg hunt. I felt like my two days of downtime were gonna go by in a jiff. I was giddy when I got to Max’s office, so I stuck my head in her door immediately. “Knock knock!”

She was deep into reports from her last detail, and I startled her. “Christ, Akiko!” she jumped, “Don’t they knock where you’re from?” Max is my bud, so we have this ongoing shit-talking contest.

“Sor-reee!” I said, acting all peeved. “Just came by to say ‘hi’.”

“What are you still doing here? I thought they were done with you hours ago.” She motioned me inside as she popped a cigarette in her mouth and looked around for a lighter.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m stuck here for the next two days!” I plopped into the only other seat in the tiny office, right across from her.

Max took a long drag, then tried in vain to fan the smoke away from me. She knows I hate it, but I was on her turf, so that’s about as charitable as she got. She’s about my age. Blonde. Barbie-ish, only shorter than average and more top-heavy. We don’t get too many missions together because other guys on our detail get distracted by that much estrogen. Today she was wearing a fly-looking tennis dress, and I made a mental note to ask her to borrow it sometime.

She ashed into an old soda cup, making it her de facto ashtray. Then came her usual interrogation. “So are you okay?”


“Did they find anything wrong with you?”

“Nope. Nothing except these dang bug bites,” I said, scratching my leg furiously.

“So they want to watch you for awhile to see if you melt down or something?”

“Yeah!” I enthused, bugging my eyes out at her.

She started laughing, which turned into coughing. When she settled down, she took another drag and squinted at me through the smoke. “Bored yet?”

“You have no fucking idea,” I confessed. Then I leaned forward conspiratorially, looking quickly from right to left. “But I have some plans to entertain myself for awhile,” I half-whispered.

Max smiled a sisterly bad-girl smile and leaned forward, her head inches from mine. “Oh? Do tell,” she crooned.

Then I misted her face with a generous dose from the aerosol spray, rearing my own head back to a safe distance.

Since she’s almost as big a badass as I am, she reacted almost instantly, jerking back and reaching under her desk for her piece. She was coughing again, furiously. I jumped up and intercepted her ciggy, dropping it in the soda cup. Right when I sat back down, the muzzle of her gun appeared in my face. But Max didn’t have much of a chance against the spray—it was a wicked strong hypnoerotic agent, and there was enough in the cloud I’d sprayed at her to take down three people and the horses they rode in on. The mist had diffused almost instantly, and now she was just sitting there, pointing her gun at me, her mouth slowly coming open. I sat still—I knew that if I made a move, she could still waste me.

After a minute or two I figured she was almost under. I hopped up to lock her door, then watched as she slowly lowered the gun to the desk and tried to focus on some imaginary thing about a foot in front of her. She was working her jaw a little, like she was trying to say something. Finally, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped in her chair with a cute little “mm...".

That was my cue.

I walked around behind her desk and wiggled between the back of her chair and the wall. Then I started to rub her neck. She didn’t visibly react, but I knew she was getting off on it. We’re good like that.

“Maxi, we don’t have much time, and I need some help,” I began. “I need for you to come help me do something.”

I moved from her neck to her fantastic arms. Max isn’t overweight by any stretch—she’s a secret fucking agent, right? But there’s a lot more of her to love than any pasty Gwynneth Paltrow waif. I forgot about my plans for a second or two and got into exploring her upper body. I’d always thought she was ten pounds of sexy in a five pound bag, but today I was crossing over into new territory, actually touching her. I don’t attend services at that church very often, if you know what I mean.

Then the next step of my Totally Cool Idea trumpeted in the back of my mind.

“Let me tell you what we’re gonna do,” I whispered, nibbling a little on her left ear.

“Oh...” she managed as she quietly came.

* * *

Next thing I know, we were moving through the halls of the admin quad. I was trying not to look nervous (I was way jazzed on the Cool Idea, eager to find out what was next), while hoping no one noticed Max looking like she just pulled a ferocious bong hit. I told her to follow me and it seemed to take all of her concentration to keep up. We needed to get where we were going fast because we looked tres suspicious.

Luckily, we didn’t bump into anyone we knew on the way to Director Sutton’s office.

Keeley looked surprised to see me again—I didn’t usually drop in on the Boss Lady unannounced.

“Well, if you two are together, I know trouble’s brewing somewhere,” she teased, waving us into her office. “What can I do for you?”

I had to be quick before she noticed that Max wasn’t operating on all thrusters. I sat down and started talking, while Max followed her instructions—she discreetly closed and locked the door behind us and moved over next to me, staying on her feet.

“Max and I were wondering, ma’am, since I’m stuck here, if you could let us into the Situation Arena for some practice.”

Keeley regarded me for a sec, then Max. “I’m not quite sure I believe what I’m hearing,” she remarked, dry as a martini, “you’re volunteering yourselves to do S.A.” She smiled a little, but I could tell she smelled a rat. She looked up. “Max, are we a little antsy? Have a seat, you’re making me nervous.”

To my relief, Max mumbled “Sorry ma’am,” and sat down next to me. Guess she was following suggestions from anybody who had one to offer.

All I needed was for Madam Director to get out from behind her desk. I didn’t want to jump her without restraining her first—she was a much more tenacious animal than my darling Maxi. If I didn’t make my move soon, the jig would be up.

“I know it’s hard to believe, Keeley, but what else is there to do?” I pouted.

She looked us over for an agonizing few seconds, then smiled. “I guess we should restrict you to base more often, it’s turning out to be quite productive.” Then she rose up and walked around her desk to a small red box on the wall. “I’ll just give you one of my keycards and you can return it to me when your downtime is over. If you get bored with that you can just...”

Max was performing perfectly. As soon as Keeley’s back was to us, Max pounced out of her chair, wrapping Keeley in a tight bear hug. I was up quick as lightning, and before Keeley could make a sound of protest I sprayed her but good, taking care to keep the highly concentrated cloud blowing away from Max. She’d had quite enough of the stuff.

There was a short scuffle—Keeley coughing and spitting and bucking like the fucking demon bitch she was, Max struggling to maintain her grip on her, me fighting to keep an arm around both of them—to keep them from knocking something over or breaking shit. Keeley tried in vain to get an arm free, and she was so busy wheezing for air that she couldn’t yell or scream. Still, I was afraid the commotion would bring the guards—they never strayed too far from the Director’s door.

Then all of a sudden Keeley just sort of stopped fighting. I loosened my grip on the two girls and rotated them so that I could look up at Keeley’s face. Her cherubic cheeks were flushed, and her adorable curls were a mess. Her shocking blue eyes were opening and closing slowly, staying closed more and more often. She looked less like the Big Bad Madam who had trained me from day one, and more like a porcelain doll—albeit one who’d just gotten laid and was in need of a good smoke.

I stood there looking at both of them for a minute. Suddenly, I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about gassing my two closest friends, and I wondered what the fuck I was going to do next. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t remember why I was doing any of this in the first place! Max was still holding onto Keeley, and they both looked about as lucid as department store mannequins.

Mannequins who were hot and bothered, that is. I could see Keeley’s erect nipples poking through her white cotton blouse (no bra, must be casual Friday!), and Max was displaying telltale pink blotches on her face and neck. She must be getting pretty randy. In order to really cement the effects of the spray, I’d need physical contact with Keeley like I had done with Max, but we needed to get out of that office el soono.

Then the next part of the plan tickled my brain. I think I actually giggled out loud, it felt so good. All my doubts melted away in sunny streaks. Things were getting interesting...

“Ladies, we’ll be on our way now.” I told them. Two pairs of eyes swiveled lazily to lock with mine. “Who’s got wheels?”

Max spoke up. “I do. My truck is out in the parking deck.”

“Got your keys?”

“Yes, Akiko.”

“Wunderbar. Follow me. Act natural. Don’t talk to anybody, just do what I tell you. Clear?”

“Yes, Akiko,” they chorused. I had my own minions. Neat.

* * *

It was getting late, so the way to the underground parking deck was pretty deserted. No one noticed Director Sutton leaving with her two favorite protégés, and no one questioned my leaving the base—I was getting through every electronic checkpoint with Keeley’s thumbprint. The only time I got nervous was at the very last exit, where real guards are posted. But these guys just saw the Director and waved us through. Suckers. I wasn’t even going to need my guns!

You’d think a girl like Max would drive some cute little red sedan, or a jeep. But she drives this monstrous black Explorer. Watching her climb up into it made me laugh, as usual.

“Max, in the backseat. I’ll drive.” She grunted in acknowledgement as she pushed into the back, giving me a nice view of her marvelous bubble butt. “Keeley, you’re up front with me,” I ordered.

I gunned the engine and we were off, a little squeal from the tires echoing through the parking deck. A minute later and we were clear, on public city streets. Sorry, can’t say which city. I mean, I could, but then I’d have to kill you.

* * *

We were looking at about an hour of travel time to the Soporo Spa in San Fran (I don’t care if you know where the bad guys are, besides—the place is long gone now). If I didn’t do something to reinforce the hypnoerotic agent, it would wear off hella quick and I’d have two pissed off operatives to deal with. Trouble was, I was designated driver.

“Max, dahling.” She blinked at me from the back seat as I watched her in the rear view mirror. “Take off your panties for me.” She flipped up her brief tennis dress and wordlessly wiggled out of her underwear. Sadly, I couldn’t pay as much attention to the show as I wanted, cuz traffic on the highway was a bitch. And the bridge and tunnel dorks would be out in full force tonight, this being Friday.

“I think that your pussy needs your complete attention, Max. I want you to play with yourself back there. Make yourself comfortable and masturbate until I tell you to stop. Cum as many times as you need to, but don’t stop for a second.” There. That oughta do it.

Max swiveled around so that she was stretched out across the back seat. She bent her knees, spread her legs, then started delicately exploring her folds with her index finger. As I negotiated the absurd highway traffic into town, I snuck a few more looks in the rear view. A few minutes later, Max was silently grooving on her clit. Hard.

“Allrighty, it’s your turn, dollface,” I said to Keeley. “Please do us all a favor and lose those slacks. Then hand me your underwear.” I just had to know what she wore under those drab penguin suits.

“Of course, Akiko,” Keeley slurred generously. With effort, she escaped her slacks in the narrow confines of the front seat. A minute later, Boss Lady was offering me her red satin panties. Nice. I took them from her, running them through my fingers on the steering wheel. From the heady scent reaching my nostrils, I had a good idea where she was at. I tossed her underwear at her (because I’d probably never have the chance to do that again), then reached across the truck cabin for her with my right hand. Fuck. Stupid, oversized truck. I couldn’t quite reach the black, tangled patch between her legs. I made do by running my hand up and down her thigh, which she obviously dug. Unlike my quiet friend in the back, Keeley began to purr and grind her hips into the seat. I had to admit, it was getting a little steamy in my cargo pants.

“Keeley, dear. Looks like I can’t take care of you like I want to right now. We’re on kind of a tight schedule so I need to keep hauling ass into town,” I said, pinching her left nipple between my fingers. “So you’re kinda on your own for a few. I want to you play with yourself too, only stop when you cum. Cool?”

Homegirl didn’t waste a minute. She had two fingers in her slit before she answered, “Yes! Of course it’s cool, Akiko!” I risked a look away from the road, and was lucky enough to see her shiver violently, her mess of curls reacting in the cutest way possible. I was guessing it wouldn’t take her long to follow orders.

While I was calculating Keeley’s Time To Orgasm, I heard a long, shuddering gasp from the back. Score one for Max. I swear that I heard her whisper “Akiko...” before she continued her work. She was fantasizing about me! I was seriously wet now from the onanistic shenanigans going on around me.

A few seconds later, Keeley made a loud, guttural noise that I can’t even begin to describe. Let’s just say I almost drove off a bridge. And Keeley ties up the game with Max!

I knew just what had to happen next. I set the cruise control, then did my best to pull my pants down. Miraculously, I managed to peel my pants and underwear down to my knees.

“Keeley, get over here and eat me,” I commanded. Eagerly, she moved to the floor between the two bucket seats and put her head in my lap. The logistics were tricky, but this woman wasn’t in charge of a fuckload of secret agents for no reason. It didn’t take us long to work it all out so that Keeley’s hot tongue was doing enthusiastic orbits around my love button.

And what a talented tongue it was. All of a sudden, I was disappointed that we were getting to Soporo Spa so quickly. In another fifteen, we’d be rolling into the parking lot. My back was killing me, the way I was grinding upward in the seat and pushing with my thighs, but it was definitely worth it. And thank God for cruise control.

Max let loose with another sizzling exhalation in the back seat, punctuated with another low groan of “Akiko...” That did it. Gripping the steering wheel with all my might, I crested, searing bolts of purple slamming into my brain from my sex. I’m glad I wasn’t in the middle of a lane change, or something.

In the last few miles of the trip, I had Max come up front for a special appointment with me, too.

* * *

So a few minutes later, three dazed and disheveled secret agents stumbled out of the big black Explorer in a locked garage at Soporo Health Spa. I had to admit, it was pretty obvious what we’d been up to. I smiled to myself as a group of men in crisp black suits approached us.

One of the men was familiar. I think his name was Pink. Or. Something...

I’m not sure what he said to me right then, but his lips definitely moved and he was looking right at me. At that exact moment, I felt my whole being retreat into what felt like a broom closet in the darkest corner of my mind. I was reminded instantly of my treatment in the Blue Room and my instructions to bring two operatives back here for treatment of their own. Full of sudden anger and shame, I realized that I’d sold out my two best friends before I even knew what I was doing. I was going out like a sucker. Again. I’d have cried, but I couldn’t.

“Akiko, you’ve done a brilliant job,” Agent Pink was telling me. I fucking hated him and I wanted to punch him in the dick so hard! But the rest of me just giggled and said thanks.

“Gentlemen, let’s take the Director to the Blue Room and this... Max? To the White Room. Akiko, please come with me,” Agent Pink requested, a familiar smile on his face that I’d have given anything to take a belt sander to at that moment.

As my friends were led off and I shuffled after Agent Fuckhead, I was madder than I think I’ve ever been before. I had to figure out how to get control of myself, and get poor Max and Keeley out of here.

That’s another story.