The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I keep thinking about Cara,” Casey said. He stood at the office window, staring moodily down at the street below. Everything looked gray in a dreary steady spring drizzle. Cars with headlights on glistened and scuttled, and pedestrians hugged their raincoats or clutched their dripping umbrellas as they hurried along. “We’ve got to do something about Cara before she causes trouble.”

“I know,” Brenda agreed sadly. “Whenever I stay at the apartment now, I sleep in her bed and make her come, just the way you told me, but she’s still not happy. She doesn’t like you, though she loves it when you fuck her. You could give her the potion—”

“I don’t think so,” Casey muttered. He had already discovered that he did not like brainless bimbos. Brenda was barely functional as an adult now, in mid-April, and he felt exhausted from the constant effort of re-training her and then re-training again when her ability began to slip, as it always seemed to do. “Can’t you just move out?” he asked Brenda.

“If you order me to, I will,” Brenda returned promptly with her warmest smile. “I love you so much! But Cara needs me right now. And she knows all about the shop, so she might do something.”

Casey nodded wearily and sank into his chair. He swiveled, facing away from his computer. “Well, at least we’ve finished the Glen Verde project. If we could just wrap up the Tao’s Curios assignments, we could, I don’t know, take a vacation or something.”

Brenda crossed to him, sat in his lap, and stroked his hair. “I loved the candles,” she giggled. “Buy some and order me to use them!”

He kissed her. “I don’t think you need them. You’re always horny anyway.”

She stirred, rubbing her ass on his stiffening cock. “Mm. You, too.”

“Let me lock the door.”

It had become part of the work routine: get to work, check the emails, attend the morning meeting, and fuck Brenda. One good workout in the morning kept her placid all day, and usually it kept Casey from getting an unconcealable erection later on in the day. Brenda had undressed by the time Casey turned from the door. She had been wearing a loose dress, nothing under it but garter belt and stockings—she loved to wrap those beautiful stockinged legs around his waist, clasping him tight, tight against her. And she looked so sexy like that, with her shaved pussy and her long, long legs, the garter belt riding low, beneath her slightly pouched tummy. “How do you want me?” she whispered.

“You choose. I order you to choose.”

Her eyes went dreamy, and her smile became wicked. “Mm. First make me come with your tongue, please. And then lie on the floor and let me ride you! Please? May I?”

He smiled at her and backed her against a wall. He leaned into her, pressing against her pert, soft breasts, kissing her deeply, exploring her tongue with his. She was breathing hard, her hands working at his belt, unbuckling it. He let his trousers fall, kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of them, his cock hardening and thrusting against the soft silk material of his boxers, the only underwear he could stand with the new, startling sensitivity his enlarged cock had developed. He teased Brenda, sliding his moist lips down her throat, feeling the pulse, touching it with his tongue. “Yes,” she moaned.

Lower still, and he cupped first her right breast and then her left, suckling the firm nipples, teasing them. They responded with an insistent pulsation, and Brenda’s hands were on his shoulders, urging him to go lower still. He licked his way down her belly, lingered to thrust his tongue into her navel, wriggling it and making her shudder, and then he knelt before her, her pink pussy next to his face. She lifted her right leg and hooked it over his left shoulder, then reached down with her hands and held her pussy open for him, wet and gleaming, the clit swollen in its pink hood, ready, just begging for the caress of his tongue. Casey licked her slowly, deliberately, maddeningly, back to front, and then sucked on the pink bud of her sexual trigger. Brenda was going wild, making eager humming grunts deep in her throat. He murmured into her cunt, “Come now.”

And she did, gushing with pussy juice, her whole body jerking beyond her control. “Fuck me,” he said. He lay on the carpet, shucking his shorts down. “Fuck me now.”

“Yesss.” She turned and knelt astride him, her wonderful bouncy ass toward him. He loved the roundness of it, the sexy contrast of the black garter belt against her creamy skin, and he reached to grasp her hips. She had seized his cock and was positioning it, and then slowly, lingeringly, she slid herself down his pole, the enormous head parting her delicate labia, then slipping into the hotter, wetter depths. “Oh,” she moaned. “It’s so good, Casey! Oh, thank you! It’s so good!”

“Play with your tits,” he ordered, and she threw her head back in wanton abandon, running her hands over her breasts, fondling them, pulling and pinching the nipples. Her fine ass pistoned up and down, faster and faster, and Casey saw the glistening shaft of his cock as she rose high, almost off it, and then reversed and plunged down, a pink ring of tissue surrounding his cock, welcoming it, and tightening on it. He put a thumb over Brenda’s pink puckered asshole and felt her quiver. He began to tap with his thumb as she rose and descended, and the sensation again made her shudder, made her breath come in hard gasps: huh-hun-hunnh. He penetrated her with his thumb and felt through the tissue wall his own cock, hard and stiff, stuffing her pussy. Brenda began to make a sound like a kitten, and then like a teakettle just hitting a boil: “Eeeeeeee….”

Casey felt his own orgasm building and when he could hold back no longer, he said, “Come now, Brenda!”

She thrust down so hard that he felt the pressure in his pubic bone, and she reached to cuddle his balls with one hand, her other hand still flicking at her nipples, and she came silently, her pussy clutching, milking his cock, urging him to shoot his load deep inside her. When he did, the hot jets of cum brought her to a secondary peak, and then, gasping, gurgling, cooing, she rode the explosion of sensation down, down, like a wonderful sled ride. At last she rose from him, her pussy leaking white streams of cum. “Thank you,” she said humbly. “That was wonderful.”

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Casey said. “We need to unlock the door before people start to talk.”

She cleaned his cock with her mouth, and then she wet a towel with warm water from the office’s small bathroom and knelt before him, washing him, admiring his cock. She finished by wiping his cum from the inside of her thighs. By the time they were both dressed again, no one would have guessed what they had been doing.

Casey hoped.

April, as Mr. Eliot memorably wrote, is the cruelest month.

Trennon gave the staff the word at a Friday morning meeting.

“What?” Phil Tate asked in outraged astonishment. “The whole office?”

Trennon shrugged and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Believe me, people, I tried to make that point with the home office. We’ve shown a profit every year. But they’ve decided to concentrate on six areas: New York, L.A., Chicago, St. Louis, Houston, and San Francisco. All of the other offices, including this one, will be closed as of the first of June.”

“So we’re all out of a job?” Phil asked, his face beet red. “Man, I can’t believe this shit!”

The others murmured their agreement with him, and Trennon held up a placating hand. “Some of us can transfer,” he said. “I’ll be working out of New York. Anyone who’s senior level will have first refusal of transfers. Everyone who’s not picked up to move to a different office will get the standard severance, three month’s pay, plus a bonus. We’ll also try to help you get placed in new positions with other firms.”

Linda Clay, an administrative assistant in her late thirties, said cynically, “What are the chances of that in this job market? Slim to none?”

Over the rising tide of mutters, Trennon cut in: “People, what can I say? Believe me, if it were up to me, you’d all keep your jobs. It’s not my idea. This office has been successful since we first opened it ten years ago.”

But no one heard him. No one was happy.

“You could move,” Casey said bitterly. “You’re senior staff.”

“No.” Brenda clung tight to him, her head on his chest. “I won’t move. I’ll stay with you.” They lay on Casey’s bed. Late-afternoon sun slanted in through the window, making a barred pattern across their naked bodies.

“I could move, too,” Casey pointed out. “I just wouldn’t have a damn job, is all. You’d have to support us.”

“I’ll make enough money for both of us,” Brenda said. “You could order me to work harder, and I’d do it.”

Casey shook his head. “That’s not even possible. You know how you keep getting into difficulty. I’d have to be in the office with you to make sure you could handle everything. No, we’ll have to think of something else, that’s all.”

“Cara,” Brenda said. “You could give her the potion and turn her into a whore! She’d bring in lots of money, she’s so sexy—”

“I don’t think so,” Casey said. Making a wry face, he added, “Is it not written, ‘Damn, but karma can be a real bitch’?”

“Huh?”

Casey stroked her soft breast. “It’s okay; it’s something that damn crazy Tao said.”

“We’re supposed to meet him Monday,” Brenda reminded Casey. “We’ve got our recommendations to give him.”

“Yeah.” Modernize the sales facility. Place discreet ads in upscale media. Start a program: bring in a friend, get a free potion. It was a workable business model, but the damndest one Casey had ever helped to devise. And of course Tao would ignore it. “He never wanted us to help him out anyway,” Casey said. “He just wanted to play with us, to observe us, to get us involved with his weird potions and shit.”

Brenda put her own hand over Casey’s and pressed it against her breast. “I’d like to try the growth one,” she said wistfully. “Cara’s got such nice big round boobs. Mine are so small next to hers.”

“You’re perfect,” Casey said. “And Cara’s a bitch.”

“Yeah, she is,” agreed Brenda. “Sexy, though. We went at each other with vibrators the other night. God, she’s so good in bed! I wish she liked you. Does she fuck good?”

“She’s okay,” Casey said. “You ought to know. You’ve fucked her more than I have!”

“But it’s different for a man. Does she make your cock feel good? I know she loves your great big cock! I just wish she liked you, and then we could all be together and be happy. Are you sure you couldn’t slip her just a drop of—”

“I’ve got too many other problems right now,” Casey replied. He felt the soft flutter of Brenda’s fingers on his cock. He didn’t want to lose her. He never wanted to lose her. And he couldn’t afford to let her take the company’s offer of a transfer to New York or L.A., the two places where they could use her. Not when he couldn’t work right beside her, anyway.

He didn’t speak again to Brenda of his main worry: Brenda had trouble holding onto the ground she had gained. After all his exhaustive step-by-step retraining, she sometimes still completely lost the thread of what she was doing at work, couldn’t remember how to boot the computer or use a program she had been trained in for years. In interviews she sometimes would go blank, all of a sudden, and he’d have to slip in and rescue her, taking over the questions and giving her sly commands so that she’d recover. She was more nearly herself, but she wasn’t fully herself. And Tao, damn his wrinkled hide, had no helpful suggestions to make, other than to tell Casey to research other potions.

Damn it, he wasn’t a chemist or an—an alchemist, wizard, whatever Tao was. He had almost, almost come to terms with his changed world since Valentine’s day, could just about navigate himself and the semi-dazed Brenda through each day, and then life threw him a curve like this.

There were other consultancies, and Casey knew he’d get a good recommendation from Trennon. Hell, he could order Brenda, technically his immediate supervisor, to write him a letter that claimed he could walk on water. But he also knew that times were tough in his particular business and that job openings were few. And he didn’t want to relocate. He had been born in this city, he’d lived here all his life, and he was comfortable here. His baseball team was here. His roots were deep under the concrete of these streets.

But supporting himself and Brenda. . . that was going to be a problem. Oh, they had her savings, and that would carry them for a year, maybe, but then?

“Please fuck me?” Brenda asked in a small, timid voice, her palm cupped on the head of his cock, softly rolling, rubbing, stimulating.

“Okay,” he said. That was one thing he could do right. “Spread your legs wide,” he commanded, and she cheerfully obeyed.

After Casey spent all weekend worrying, Sunday night everything came to a head. Brenda was preparing a meal for them, nothing spectacular, just a salad and a steak. Casey was sitting at his computer printing out the final report for Tao’s Curios—full color, 150 pages, three-ring binders, three copies, might as well give Tao the deluxe treatment—when he heard Brenda wail, “Help!”

Casey jumped up, smelling smoke, and raced from the bedroom to the kitchen. Brenda stood there, hands hanging at her side, staring helplessly at the stove top. On the grill, two steaks were rapidly turning into charcoal. Orange flames flickered. Smoke boiled up.

Casey reached to switch off the stove. “What’s wrong?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Brenda asked. “The—the things started to smoke, and flames and—and you didn’t order me and I don’t know how to make the—the thing get cool again, and do you want to fuck me now?”

“The steaks? You didn’t know you were supposed to turn the damn heat down?” Casey grabbed a kitchen mitt and moved the grill to the sink. He dumped the smoldering, ruined steaks in and ran water over them. They hissed.

“Order me to suck your cock,” Brenda pled, her voice breaking with misery. “Or you can do me in the ass. I’m sorry, Casey. I—I forgot how to do it. You weren’t here to tell me. I’m so sorry, Casey. Fuck me. Make me do any dirty thing you want. Please. Just don’t be mad. Please.”

Casey looked at her wretched, miserable expression and thought, I did this to you.

Aloud he said, “I’ll order you to fuck me later, Brenda. Sit down at the table. I’ll make us something to eat.” He reached for a box of spaghetti.

She wouldn’t meet his gaze at dinner, but stared mutely, heart-brokenly down at her plate. She kept offering herself and murmuring, “I’m sorry I forgot.”

They turned in early, and, yes, Casey had her please him in different ways, and she got some of her bounce back, giggling and purring and snuggling up against him like an affectionate and innocent kitten.

But Casey knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep. He finally dozed sometime after three a.m., and fell into a ghastly dream in which somehow Brenda caught fire. He chased her, trying to extinguish the flames, but she didn’t understand and fled from him, screaming in terror and agony, and her skin charred and fell from the bone in smoldering lumps, and he stepped on one and it was as slippery as soap, and ahead she collapsed and writhed and died horribly—

“No!” Casey woke himself up shouting.

“What’s wrong?” Brenda asked. “Casey, what’s the matter?” She sounded frightened.

He was shaking and weeping. “I—just a dream,” he gasped. “A nightmare.”

She kissed him, murmuring “Poor Casey!” He felt her hot lips on his mouth, on his cheek, on his eyes.

And then she gasped and pushed away from him. “My God!” she said. “I remember!”

“What?” he asked, sitting up and switching on the lamp. It was seven in the morning.

She stared at him, her eyes wide. “Everything,” she whispered. “You—you put me under a spell! You made me have to obey you! Oh, Casey, how could you?”

“Brenda?” he asked, stunned.

She tugged the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her. “Casey, you—you forced me. And you, you made me want to, to lick Cara, to fuck another woman! I remember it all now!”

“What happened?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I—I have to have some time. I can’t think. I have to sort this all out. Casey, I—I love you, but I—I’m afraid, I—”

Firmly, he said, “Brenda, drop the sheet. Show me your tits.”

She shivered, but she did as he told her. “Yes, master, ” she said flatly. She stood naked. Her eyes were dull, without life, without the bubbling glee that she had shown ever since he had given her the potion.

“I don’t want it to be this way,” he said. “Brenda, what do you want?”

“I want to go home,” she said in a small voice. “I want to go to my own apartment and have some time to think. And I don’t want to ha-have to fu-fuck Cara or, or—”

“Take your shower and get dressed,” Casey said wearily. “Then go to your apartment. Take your time and think it all over.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

April. The cruelest month.

Got it, Mr. E.