The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“This is some bullshit!” The shout was strained and high-pitched, deafening in it’s volume but too whiny to truly intimidate. The man, who had been seated in his fraying office chair was now standing with his palms pressed so hard to the desk that his knuckles were white, contrasting his beetroot face.

“That’s the decree, old man. Right from the top brass.” Came the much softer reply of the younger man, leaning on an office cabinet. “They’ve already hired this girl, one Angela Bookhill, to come and ‘assess our workplace culture and hiring standards.’”

The third man sighed and rolled his eyes theatrically at that. “Well, so they have, so what? We’ll just give her a course of the vids and she’ll be on her knees in no time. With any luck, she’ll be a good fuck—we could use some new meat around the place anyway.”

The second man tutted. “She’ll be reporting directly to the higher-ups. You think we can send one of our office bimbos to deliver a report on sexism to upper management without rasing suspicion?”

The first man sank deeply back into his chair, deflating as quickly as he had blown up. “We do everything for these people, work ourselves to the bone, by all measures we’re incredibly successful, and this is how they reward us? And for what, having a little fun at work? It’s not enough to let women into workplace, we have to promote them ahead of decent, hard-working men, and sit on our hands like goddamn monks?!” There was a pause as the old man ran out of breath and sat staring down into his lap and panting. Finally, he looked beseechingly to the second man who had spoken. “For god’s sake, what do we do?” He was close to tears.

A slight smile spread on the second mans face as he stood up straight from the cabinet and began to approach the other two. “There is another approach I’ve been considering...”

Ange stood outside the entrance to the shining glass tower, waiting to finish her phone call before entering. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of dinner tonight, it’ll be ready before you get in.”

There was a sigh of relief from her partner Em on the other side of the line. “That’d be fantastic. Are you sure? It’s your first day at the new office, I’m sure you’ll have plenty to do...”

“Em, if you have to go across town to get this thing fixed, then that’s what you have to do. Don’t worry about me, I can handle an extra night on dinner duty every now and again.” She reassured her confidently.

“You’re the best Ange, I’ll see you this evening. Love you!” The two of them shared an air kiss goodbye through the phone, and Ange turned to enter the reception after hanging up. Em worked from home as a freelance journalist, but today she had to be out of the house on a number of engagements, and by the time she was done the only shop open to repair a coffee-damaged laptop was well out of her way. Ange didn’t mind a few extra chores at home, given that usually they both pulled their weight. She had a girlfriend who loved her and a job that she was passionate about, it would take more than a few minor inconveniences to sour her mood.

The perfunctory tour of the office was performed efficiently by a generic middle-aged man in a well-fitted suit, who introduced himself as John. “...and finally, here is your office. Nicole here will act as your secretary, she’ll help you contact the people you need to speak to, find any data you might need, et cetera.”

A beautiful young woman stood as he spoke, leaving from behind her desk and moving to greet Ange. She was dressed to impress, with makeup in a style more commonly suited to nights out than a days work as an office drone. Her white shirt unbuttoned to suggest a hint of cleavage and she wore a fairly daring but stylish thigh-length stretchy navy skirt. “Great to meet you! I prefer to be called Nikki!” She giggled in a carefree manner as she took Ange’s hand between both of hers.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Nikki.” Ange responded with a practiced balance of warmth and professionalism, freeing her hand and lowering it. “I’m looking forward to working with you.” She spoke honestly—Nikki seemed to be a contrasting existence to her own, but was clearly very friendly, the kind of person that anyone could easily get along with.

John was already beginning to leave. “There’s an introductory video waiting for you in your emails, Angela. We would ask you to watch it over first thing, and then proceed as you see fit from there. We’re allowing you total freedom in your work here.”

Ange raised a skeptical eyebrow. Doubtless there would be conflict and bureaucratic red-tape aplenty once she really began to dig into the structures and systems of the workplace—no entrenched patriarchal organisation would allow itself to be properly examined and reformed without a serious fight. However, that would all come soon enough. For now she responded simply, “Thank you John, I’ll get right to work.”

The video began with a cacophonous thumping noise that resembled the sound of a speaker being unplugged at full volume, and thanks to the expensive-seeming headphones the company provided as a courtesy, seemed to explode from inside her own skull, accompanied by the screen plunging suddenly into a shocking blackness. Instantly Ange’s senses were overwhelmed, and she fell out of her conscious state and was left staring thoughtlessly at the blank monitor for a few moments. Then, sound began to gradually fade in—feminine moaning and sighing that sent suggestive shivers right through Ange, causing her own breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate. Images to match the eroticism of the audio began to play, the soft curves of a series of gorgeous women presenting themselves before the entranced victim, their wide eyes begging, full lips parting wetly as they gasped and groaned lewdly. Then a voice spoke directly to Ange’s core, throaty and sensual in it’s intonation.

“Sex and power. Power and sex. ”

The submissive nature of the footage that was nesting itself in Angela’s subconcious became apparent. Every girl on screen was looking up at Ange from below, moving to display themselves better, or in some other way begging to be objectified and used. The noises increased in volume and intensity, orgasmic cries from left, right and center inflaming Ange’s arousal.

“You have power. You deserve sex.”

The mantras repeated repeated themselves for the full 10 minute run time of the video, emphasising each syllable deliciously. The girls danced and played in front of Ange’s wide open eyes, which were moving rapidly beyond her own conscious control, greedily devouring every inch of skin they could see. The breathy moans of the temptresses began to form words themselves at some point, all begging invitations towards Ange directly—please, I’m yours, take me.

And then, just as smoothly and gradually as the sounds and images had begun, they faded out. Ange stared dumbly for a few moments, before there was another resounding pop and the screen returned to normal. She snapped back to wakefulness, the line of drool that had been trailing from her lower lip whipping back up into her mouth.

If she had been asked to describe the contents of the video, Ange would have found she could remember nothing about it, but she was left with the strong impression that the video had been both useful and informative—and, of course, she would promptly watch the videos the company sent her each morning without questioning why.

Her first week on the job at an end, Ange sat on the sofa with her laptop open in front of her, reviewing her notes. She had already known about the lack of women in higher positions in the company, but was surprised at the favourable gender split at the mid-to-lower levels in all roles and departments. The main stand out point of her investigation was yet to reveal itself, however—at least not in a way she could articulate. All she could say was that there was a strong atmosphere of sexuality in the office.

It was even beginning to have unexpected effects on her. Controlling her libido was never something that Ange struggled with, she always maintained an appropriate demeanour for any given situation. However, she constantly found her inner thoughts turning to the attractiveness of the other women in the office. She would catch her eyes following thighs, hips and breasts as they walked by, and she was repeatedly shaking herself out of daydreams about Nikki’s cleavage, and her cute smile.

She certainly didn’t want to report on this atmosphere until she had something concrete to say about it that wouldn’t only involve complaining about the way her fellow employees chose to dress. The women in the office certainly favoured briefer skirts and more elaborate styles than she was used to, but there was thus far no indication that there were any innapropriate requirements in the dress code, or that any discomfort was being caused. Not yet, anyway. Ange wasn’t stupid, and while it was well within the rights of the women to dress how they wanted, it seemed unlikely that every single one of them would adopt this style independently. At the very least it might suggest unethical hiring practices, with interviewers making their decisions based on skirt length rather than merit.

Em began humming from the kitchen adjoined to the living room that Ange was working in. Idly Ange examined her, and wondered when the last time was that she had gotten dressed up at all. Ange hadn’t seen her outside of lounging clothes in what seemed like ages, and the contrast with the beautiful women at work was highlighting this in Ange’s mind.

She shook her head. Her unusually heightened libido and sexual frustration shouldn’t be taken out on her loving partner. She smiled and got up to approach Em. Wrapping her arms around the shorter woman’s waist she whispered an invitation in her ear. Em looked at her apologetically.

“Not tonight, love. I’ll be zonked out as soon as I’ve finished these dishes.”

Ange unwound her arms from her lover, and stalked back to the couch, finding that she felt quite wounded. She needed an outlet for this hunger within her, and soon.

Ange’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath, though she was unaware of it in her induced unconscious state. She was leaning in towards the screen, mouth open, jaw trembling, as the nubile girls being displayed for her beckoned for her with every facet of their beings.

“Your girls should be sexy, sexy girls should be yours.”

Ange let out a needy whine as these words were accompanied by the image of three girls splayed out and trembling in orgasmic bliss, all staring pleadingly out and up at her.

“Serious girls bore you, sexy girls should perform for you.”

A series of clips of girls in outrageous dresses and costumes followed this, they twisted and turned sensuously, groping and touching themselves and eachother in order to draw Ange’s eye from one teasing body to another.

When Ange was wrenched back into consciousness, she had no idea why she was so turned on. She could only think that the atmosphere in this office was truly more intense than she had realised earlier on. She was now entering her fourth week at work there, and was reaching levels of constant ambient arousal she had no previous experience of.

Nikki knocked at the door and entered without waiting for a response, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand. “Morning, Ange! Hot one today!”

Nikki’s comment on the weather perhaps explained her outfit, although Ange swore she was dressing skimpier by the day regardless of the temperature. As the secretary approached her desk, Ange couldn’t stop her eyes from running down that body just once, those increbible breasts being held inadequately by the fourth button down on her shirt, those inviting thighs exposed by a skirt that didn’t manage to extend halfway down them.

“Nikki, I’ve told you a million times already that you don’t have to bring me coffee, it’s not a part of your job.” Nikki rolled her eyes as she bent to place the mug on the desk with exaggerated firmness, a move that Ange had to notice caused her boobs to bounce. She walked round the back of the desk and rested her hands on Ange’s shoulders.

“You work sooo hard every day, the least I can do is offer you a little pleasantness when I can.” As she spoke Ange felt hot breath teasing the back of her ear, causing her to clench a little. Surprised, she turned to see exactly how close Nikki’s face was to her, but found herself faced only with cleavage, pushed perfectly into her face by the tight shirt. She choked a little, at a loss for words.

Nikki released her, smiled warmly, and headed for the door. “Call me if you need anything, I’m at my desk ’til lunch.” As she walked away her hips swayed lasciviously, and Ange was unable to stop staring as she went. Unbidden, a thought shot through Ange’s mind—What a fucking tease. Immediately she was shocked at her own internal words. She clearly needed some release, and badly at that.

Ange was frustrated to find that her work was getting done less efficiently than she would have liked, and that she had no-one to blame but herself. Lunch break found her in a bad mood, that was of course not helped by her growing sexual frustration. As she was finishing her cafeteria meal, two loud men’s voices boomed in a sudden burst of laughter, causing her to jump. Her attention drawn, she began to pay attention to their conversation.

“After we got seperated, oh man, there was this girl on the dancefloor—proper 10, I’m telling you, full 10. Her friend wasn’t as good, but still hot as fuck, honestly, and they were dancing together, giving us the eye.”

“Oh man did you get some of that?”

“I fucking did, what a fucking night, honestly. What a fucking night.”

Ange found their crass discussion and rating of the women disgusting, but the image of the girls dancing in their club dresses distracted her and seemed to hold her back from confronting the men. Uncomfortably, she found herself equal parts angry with and jealous of the loudmouth pricks.

Deep within her subconscious, a mantra intoned—“They love performing for you, everything they do is for you.”

As she got up to leave the canteen, she decided that including the men’s comfort with having this discussion out loud at work in her report, aswell as emailing hr regarding the incident would suffice; there was no need to confront the men directly. She told herself that this was the reason, though she exited the room at an unnescesarily slow pace, listening to more details of the hot club girls mouthwatering tits, flat stomachs, and how that sensuous dancing translated into the bedroom.

“Oh, I love working here.” The spacy girl smiled softly in response to Ange’s question. “I think I get treated the way I deserve.” This unusually phrased response was typical of the responses Ange had been getting in her interviews with the women at the office. It was becoming infuriating—the higher-ups seemed to offer no prospects of advancement for the women, and yet to talk to them you’d think they were living the most fulfilling work life possible.

Ange’s frustration with the girl’s short answers was surely accentuated by the increasingly acute sexual frustration caused by interacting with the uniformly beautiful women who populated the office. Gabriella, the one she was currently talking to, had a particularly distracting habit of wetting her lips constantly, and the fact that her crossed legs in her chair had caused her skirt to be drawn up obscenely far over her gorgeous thighs didn’t help matters either. Ange found that lately in this office she was never looking at a woman as a whole person, rather she was drawn to staring at individual body parts—a collarbone, cleavage, eyes, lips, ass. Her staring had to be blatant at this point, but it never went commented on, and in fact on the occasions where she was sure a girl had caught her she was met only with a smile, or a giggle, or occasionally, she suspected, a deliberate accentuation of the part she was staring at—a tug at the shirt to expose cleavage, a finger running gently across a lower lip.

“They’ll give you whatever you want, just reach out and take it.”

Ange forced herself off this train of thought. “Are you concerned at all by the current lack of representation of women in positions above yours?”

“Well—not exactly.” The girl answered breathily. “The bosses keep things running smoothly. It has been a nice change to have you around though—personally I love working under women as well as men.” Her smoky eyes bore directly into Angela’s own, and Ange instinctively began to lean forward slightly, her hands twitching as if to reach out for the beauty in front of her. Ange mentally kicked herself, there was no way her interview subject was implying what Ange was inferring, this wasn’t some cheap porno. She kept her cool, clearing her throat to mask the momentary pause, and continued.

“Well, I’m not actually your direct superior.” Gabriella’s only response was an amused and, to Angela, supremely erotic sound in the back of her throat, as though the girl were enjoying some private joke. Ange wrapped the interview up as quickly as possible and got the incredibly distracting girl out of her office.

Em writhed on the bed beneath Ange as Ange sped up the movement of her fingers on her partner’s clit. Watching the girl below her spasm, unable to control her body, was setting sparks flying in Ange’s head that had never been ignited before. She had never been a dirty-talker during sex, but tonight she had to make Em tell her how hot she was.

“You love that, mmm? Say my name, tell me who’s doing this to you.”

Em’s eyes opened wide in surprise, but she moaned out loud—“It’s you, Ange, only you!”

Ange grinned. For the first time, the knowledge of her own sexual prowess and dominance was driving her forward more than any selfless desire to please her wonderful partner.

“You know they’ll love it, you deserve to have them.”

As Em came down from another orgasm, Ange lay back on the bed, propping herself up on the pillows against the headboard. With a smug smirk on her face, she motioned towards her own cunt wordlessly, and, still gasping, Em crawled between her legs and began to lick.

Ange rode her face, looking down at her girlfriend as her pleasure built. Tutting, she reached a hand down to stroke the girl’s hair. “Look up at me. Don’t look away.” Those eyes stared right into hers, dark with heavy desire, but still Ange wasn’t satisfied. Moving the hand round to the back of Em’s head, she applied slight pressure, and Em responded instictively, burying her face in Ange’s pussy. “That’s right, that’s right, that’s how you do it for me.” Ange’s voice grew more hoarse. Em responded to the praise, speeding up her tongue’s playing as she got lost in Ange’s eyes.

Ange came hard, and then held Em’s head in place with her thighs, keeping her girlfriend working until she came again, and again, all the while praising the enamoured girl and physically directing her with forceful touch.

After they were finally done, Ange lay on her back, arms outstretched, and Em cuddled up to her side, grinning deliriously. “Well that was certainly a change of pace, but not one I would mind every now and again!” She panted in Ange’s ear.

Ange responded only with a grin. Yeah, that’s right. She thought. She loves it. She fucking loves it. Almost drunk on her own sense of sexual pride, Ange drifted off to sleep.

In the breakroom Angela was chatting with John and one of his friends, Steve, who was talking about a recent holiday. Ange didn’t typically have as many friendships with men as with women, but it had naturally turned out this way at her new job. The men were simply better conversationalists than the women she’d met so far, and to be honest, lately she was a better conversationalist with the men than with the women aswell. She was unable to maintain eye contact with them, and shamefully lost track of what they were saying as she checked them out.

“Yeah, absolutely, I reccommend it. We had a hell of a time.” Steve had pulled out his phone and was swiping through photographs. Ange looked over politely, then stopped and stared transfixed at a selfie of Steve and his bikini-clad girlfriend at the beach. He was holding her by the ass and pulling her into him, pressing her firmly against his side while his other arm held the phone above him. He was looking into the camera lens, while she seemed to only have eyes for him and stared adoringly at his face. There was definately a submissive sexuality to the photograph, Ange decided, and as she drank in the exposed curves of the girl’s exquisite body she was surprised to find that her arousal outweighed her discomfort.

“Why don’t you join us, Ange?” Ange blinked. The conversation had moved on while she was ogling Steve’s girlfriend. “Drinks? After work?” John ventured after a moment’s silence.

“Oh! Sure.” She accepted without thinking. Well, she could hang out for a little while.

About time! Nikki was later than usual with the afternoon coffee. Ange bit her lip as she openly ogled the secretary’s tits presented displayed in a sleeveless v-neck sweater that was pulled tight across them, tucked into the studded belt that held up her stretchy little mini. She had plenty of time to admire as the girl slowly minced across the office in her impractically high heels.

“You look tired, I’m so, so sorry I’m late!” She cooed as she set the mug down, walking behind Ange again. “Let me make up for that, sweetie.” She began to expertly rub Angela’s shoulders, her expert hands powering through stress-knots with ease.

Ange thought about objecting—Nikki didn’t have to do this. Once again she was doing something well outside of her job description just to please her superior, and this was definately innapropriate given the relationship of power between them. On the other hand, Nikki was there to assist her. Ange told herself she deserved a reward every now and again, and Em had been cold to her lately, telling her that she’d changed recently. She sighed, leaning back into the girl’s skillful touch for a few heavenly minutes. “I needed this.”

Nikki giggled. “You know, if you ever need it, I would be willing to give you so much more.” At this, she lent in close and kissed Ange on the cheek. Ange jumped in her seat, shocked, but unable to say anything, caught an internal battle between her desire for the sexy secretary and a vague guilt as she thought of Em. Nikki giggled again, and sauntered away. Oh my god, that thing doesn’t even completely cover her ass. Ange was breathing hard as she watched the globes of a perfect bubble-butt peeking out at her. I’m going crazy, I’m really going crazy.

“Right! Time for another round.” Steve said decisively. There didn’t seem to be any question of refusing. Ange downed the remainder of her pint and tried to smile confidently.

She was already more drunk than she’d planned to get. For some reason she was concerned with how she might appear to the boys if she couldn’t keep up with them, and kept glancing at how empty their glasses were compared to hers. Steve’s image seemed to blur in and out of focus as he approached the bar. Once he was there, Ange was curious to see him strike up a conversation with a girl waiting at the bar next to him. She responded with a grin and a blush, and, before the bartender had served them both, handed Steve a slip of paper.

Steve returned to their table, setting the drinks down in front of both her and John. “You’re flirting with girls at the bar? I thought you were in a relationship.” Ange said unsteadily.

Steve shrugged. “I am, I love my girlfriend, John knows me, right John? You know how much I love my girl.” He was beggining to slur slightly himself. John gripped his shoulder and nodded earnestly. “Just because we love our girls doesn’t mean we can’t have a bit of fun on a night out after working all day, does it? It’s just flirting, that’s all.”

Ange’s eyes fell, and she stared into her drink, discomforted. She knew that Em would be upset if she didn’t call out this behaviour from Steve, let alone if she engaged in it herself. On the other hand, the idea of chatting up a pretty girl at the bar had some serious appeal—Em certainly wasn’t making her feel wanted in the way she deserved. If all she wanted to do was have a hot babe give her a smile, make her feel attractive and important, where was the harm? Em wouldn’t have to know. She looked up, and noticed both men were looking at her expectantly. There was a tension in the air, as though the two of them were waiting for something without knowing exactly what to expect.

At last, she responded cautiously. “You might have a point, I suppose. It’s just... Don’t you feel guilty?” That feeble response was hardly a rebuke, but she couldn’t really bring herself to disagree with them. Steve laughed out loud, the tension suddenly burst.

“Sounds to me like you need to drink some more!” He hollered, and Ange smiled back. She realised she admired his loud confidence, and found his attitude infectious. She clinked her glass with the two men, and took a long draught.

“Make them want you. Treat them like they deserve.”

And that was how, an hour later, Ange found herself leaning heavily down towards a beautiful girl at a table, swaying and slurring obnoxiously and failing not to stare down her shirt as she spoke.

“I jussst thought... You looked so beautiful sitting their, babe... Juss had to come over...” She husked, one hand resting on the wall above the girl’s head.

The girl laughed nervously. “Ah, yeah? You ok? Are you here with anyone?”

Ange laughed “I could be... I could be with you...” She mumbled, giggling uncontrollably, before feeling a firm hand on her shoulder and turning to see a member of staff telling her that she needed to leave. Ange allowed herself to be led from the bar, unable to tell if the sense of shame was at her conduct, or at her failure to grab the interest of the girl.

“Like, I think you just asked that question. Do you want me to answer it again?” The girl, whose name Ange had forgotten, smiled sweetly at her across the desk. Ange was having trouble focussing on her questionnaire, most of her attention being held by her subject’s magnificent tits, swelling out over the top of her black dress. Ange wanted to grab them, play with them, suck them, maul them. Any time she managed to tear her eyes away from them she only found herself distracted equally by the pouty red lips, the big blue eyes, or the soft, lilting voice of the girl, and was completely unable to give much regard to the process of questions and answers.

Ange cleared her throat. “Uh, no no, that’s fine, let me just find my place here...” She stared down at her notes, increasingly bored and frustrated with how these interviews were going. She wasn’t getting through them at the pace she needed to, and the responses she was getting remained as unhelpful as ever. Not to mention, the way the girls dressed in this office seemed to be growing more sexual by the day. Every interview became a tease, as Ange tried to retain her professionalism while some hot piece of ass um’d and ah’d her way through a series of short and glowingly positive answers about the work environment. It wasn’t that they were trying to be unhelpful—in fact they seemed delighted to take the time to spend with Ange, the most compliant interview subjects Ange had ever met.

Ange glanced up just in time to catch the breathtaking girl tugging at her dress, her boobs improbably popping even more. Fuck it, I’m going off script to get some answers. Let’s make this a little more casual. Ange decided.

“So the dress code around here seems... loose.” She ventured, gesturing at the giggling girl.

“Oh, it’s actually rather strict. I would never break it.” The girl responded. Ange surely would have noted the unsualness of the response, and how it contrasted with the dress code as written in official company policy, but she was too absorbed in how the babe had emphasised her point by running two hands over her dress, again tugging and the straining bustline. “I can stand up and show you if you like.” She offered, eyeing Ange seductively. This was of course nonsensical and unnescesary, but Ange was only thinking about how she’d love to get more of a look at the creature in front of her. She nodded, and the girl got to her feet.

The dress was brief, displaying as much juicy thigh as was possible while still hiding her underwear, and fit tightly against the curvaceous body of the bimbo. “You see? Don’t I look great?” She smiled triumphantly.

Ange responded without thinking. “Take a couple of steps back from the desk so I can get a better look.” The girl obeyed instantly, and Ange was struck suddenly with a strange certainty that she would do anything that was asked of her without question. Ange paused, drinking in the enticing sight before her, and biting her lip as if struggling with something. At last she spoke again. “Give me a twirl. Ah ah! Slower...” She settled back in her chair and enjoyed the show.

“Why do you never call me when you’re going to be home late anymore?! It was your night to make dinner, and you missed it, again! Do you just enjoy coming home to cold takeaway and a pissed off partner? Is that it?!” Em shouted. Em had been concerned at first when Ange had started to arrive home late from work, but at this point that had melted away completely into anger.

Ange struggled against the alcohol in her system, and responded with self-righteous affront. “Em, if I want to take some time to relax with my colleagues after a hard days work then that’s what I’ll do! It’s my right!” Even though Ange couldn’t point out anything wrong with what Em was saying she still felt that some injustice was being done. Why couldn’t she have a girlfriend who was happy to see her, waiting for her with a hot meal and a smile? Maybe then she’d be more inclined to come home right away after work.

“Then at least call me! Or change the chore roster! Or just... talk to me at all! You’re so distant lately.” This last sentence was at a lower volume, and Em choked up a little as she spoke. Ange looked around uncomfortably as if searching for the words to say. Her eyes were caught by the television, where an actress looking searingly hot in a cleavage-exposing dress strutted sexily down the red carpet. Em’s voice raised again. “And now you’re not even paying attention to me! You like the tv so much, you can sleep down here with it tonight.” She stormed upstairs, leaving Ange confused and battling with her own bruised ego.

That’s why Ange wasn’t entirely surprised to find herself making out with Nikki in her office the next day. The bombshell secretary was impossible to resist in a microdress with a neckline that went down to her bellybutton. Ange knew this was not dress-code appropriate, but she’d discarded all concerns she had about that. It was so much nicer to just enjoy the flesh on display around the office than to worry about rules and regulations. It gave her and other superior staff something to enjoy while they worked.

Ange was an animal at that moment, her hands grabbing and pawing at the busty slut who had given herself to her. She tugged hurriedly at the dress, exposing Nikki’s braless gravity-defying tits, and bent down to suck them hungrily. Nikki moaned like a pornstar, pressing her boobs together with her hands, pushing them further into Ange’s embrace. “Sit down, sweetie. I’ve wanted to do this for you ever since you got here.” The secretary gasped. Reluctantly, Ange pulled away from the glorious bounty to take her seat, but her dissapointment was short-lived as Nikki sank breathlessly to her knees, tugging down Angela’s skirt and panties.

She wants you, to be owned by you.”

Nikki never broke eye contact for a second as she gave Ange the best head she’d ever had. Ange broke down completely into delirium, gasping and panting demeaning obscenities that had never entered into her mind before. She grabbed Nikki’s head with both hands and held it firmly in place, while bucking and thrashing wildly against her subordinate. “Ah shit- You fuckin’— You little slut. Oh god you whore! That’s- Oh fuck, oh fuck- That’s how I like it...” She came hard again and again as the gorgeous little office bimbo did what she did best. Eventually, as they both gasped for breath, Nikki stood up and began to dress wordlessly, allowing her boss time to collect herself. She pulled out a pocket mirror and roughly repaired her makeup before she left the room. As she reached the door, she turned, smiling.

“I’ll do that whenever you want, you’re in charge, k?”

It took another few minutes after the minx had closed the door behind her before Ange collected herself. However, her lucid state was only temporary as she noticed another email with a video attachment from the company, and purely on instinct immediately opened the file. The noise and the blackness knocked her immediately into oblivion. As she watched, the pornographic material imprinting itself further into the deepest recesses of her mind, her hand rubbed lazily at her pussy.

You’re in control, you can take what you want, you can do what you want.

Some days later Ange was taking an extended break and participating in what had become her favourite office activity—ogling the hotties as they went about their work. There was that cutie with the dimples who blushed and smiled at her every time they made eye contact, there was the leggy redhead whose skirts seemed like they should be illegal, there was the great pair of tits that bounced past every day at this time. She was watching a girl in denim shorts (“In the office? At this point, why not?“ Mused Angela to herself) gyrate away down the corridor when she was startled out of her reverie by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Steve smirking back at her.

“Admiring the scenery, Ange?” Steve’s knowing smile only made the situation more humiliating, and Ange blushed and stammered, not knowing how to repond, before Steve held up a hand. “Hey, I’m not blaming you. An ass like that, who wouldn’t take the chance to look? I’m an ass guy, always have been, and hers... solid 8 out of 10.”

“At least a 9, surely?” Ange blurted before she could stop herself. Steve’s smile grew wider.

“No no no, now Jenny from I.T? That’s a firm 9.” Steve chuckled at his own puerile joke, and Ange smiled back in response. Despite the protests of what remained of her former self, she was drawn into a good few minutes of discussion regarding preferences when it came to tits, ass and face, exciting herself with the conversation too much to summon any objection to the crassness and objectification she was engaging in.

“You should try talking to some of these girls, I bet they would love some attention from you.” Grinned Steve.

“No, no... I have a girlfriend.” Ange replied weakly, the response feeling dishonest when images of her encounter with Nikki flashed through her mind.

“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, Ange. I’ll catch you on Friday for drinks.” He clapped her on the shoulder and walked away, leaving the conflicted woman not even knowing what she was battling with anymore.

Ange laughed boisterously with the group as they marched on to the next bar. There was a large group this time, a couple of boys from the office and a few other pals of theirs, some of whom had brought their girlfriends. One guy who Ange hadn’t met before had a girl on each arm, and Ange felt a twang of jealousy every time she looked over at him. Steve wrapped an arm heavily around her shoulder and spoke needlessly loudly into her ear. “Next one up is a special bar, you’re gonna love it.” Ange looked at him curiously, and he motioned to the building as they arrived. Diamonds. A strip club.

Ange stopped short. She was obviously immediately tempted, but she half-remembered some strong feelings she’d had regarding stripping in the past. Her own voice echoed through her mind. “Listen, I have no problem with women making their money any way they want, more power to them—but you’ll never see me in one of those places. Demeaning sexualisation is not my idea of an evening’s entertainment.” She didn’t want to be the one to object, and looked around nervously to see if anyone else was uncomfortable, but even the girls seemed enthusiastic. Noticing her hesitation, one of the two babes hanging off the lucky guy unwound herself from him and approached Ange.

“It’s a great place, honest. I work there on weekends, and I have sooo many girlfriends there too. Come on in with us, please?” Faced with the gorgeous sexpot’s doe eyes staring pleadingly into her own, and the seam-bursting cleavage held by the straps of that tiny little dress, Angela’s mind melted into a drunk and horny pool in her skull.

“Sure.” She grinned stupidly, and the crowd burst into a cheer as they headed for the entrance.

Ange’s vision was swimming, her senses overwhelmed by the shots she had lost count of, the loud music, and the twisting, bouncing body above hers. She didn’t know exactly how and when she had agreed to a lap dance, but she was glad she had. The supernaturally hot stripper was down to just her tiny thong, and Ange couldn’t decide where to look, her eyes running haywire over the flesh in front of her. She reached out an arm before she knew what she was doing and lazily ran a hand down a gyrating hip.

“Hey, I warned you already!” The sharp voice of the stripper cut through her dizziness as the ass was pulled out of her reach, and the girl stamped off, returning moments later with a security guard who looked surprised to see a woman reclining on the seat.

“I think you’ve had enough entertainment for one night ma’am, please come with me.” He took her by the arm and pulled her up out of her chair as she protested semi-coherently.

“This’s bulsshii... Jst havn sm fuuun...” She grumbled, unable to physically resist the big mans guidance. She knew the rules of the strip club, knew why they were in place, but for chrissakes how could she be expected not to touch something so tempting when it was being dangled right in front of her? She was just doing what was natural, it made no sense to kick her out for this! The shock of the cold air woke her up a little as the fire exit slammed shut behind her, and she reluctantly walked towards the taxi line.

Arriving home, she stumbled noisily upstairs, down the corridor, and leaned heavily against the bedroom door. Grabbing the handle, she rattled it frustrated a few times before she realised. Locked. Swearing out loud, she managed to make her way back downstairs before collapsing fully clothed on the couch, and was out like a light, her mind full of booze, strippers and a growing sense of dissatisfaction.

The unconscious Ange masturbated furiously to the latest video she’d been sent.

“Take as many sluts as you want, make them yours, any girl would love to be your whore, you’re a goddess.”

Unable to control her voice in her hypnotised state, Ange grunted loudly as she came. She was still sexually unsatisfied when she came around.

She stared hesitantly at the door to her office. Again? Clenching a fist, she realised that, yes, she was going to do this again. She buzzed the intercom. “Nikki, can you please come in here?”

The bimbo who entered the room wasn’t even pretending to adhere to any standards of office attire anymore, dressed in a tiny navel bearing tank top and flippy pleated skirt, but Ange didn’t give a fuck. She took in a sharp breath through her nose as the brazen slut in front of her clasped her hands together in front of her and leaned forwards, pushing her tits together. “Something you wanted, boss?” She asked with faux innocence.

Ange was caught up short, not knowing exactly how to initiate, but her instincts took over and she blurted out inelegantly “Get down on the ground and get me off.”

The bouncy beauty giggled, dropped to her hands and knees and began crawling round the desk towards her superior, erasing any doubts and hesitation from Angela’s mind with the erotic display. “Why not? Thought Ange. “Why wouldn’t I fuck a girl this hot, given the opportunity?” That was her last coherent thought before her eyes rolled back in her head as Nikki buried her head underneath her skirt.

At this point Ange had abandoned any written script for these interviews—she wasn’t even entirely sure what her goal was anymore. She’d asked this girl into her office without even getting her name just because she liked how her legs looked in the cheap pink skirt she was wearing.

Ange felt totally out of control—unable to remain seated she was now standing close to the girl and breathing hard, while the girl merely looked back at her giggling, giving no indication that she thought that anything about this situation was odd.

“I mean just look at what you’re wearing! Your tits barely fit in this thing.” She punctuated her point by artlessly pawing at the girl’s boobs beneath the matching pink crop top she was wearing. “And this skirt, the way it clings to you... How can I be expected to get any work done around here? Do they really call this a dress code?” Now she reached her hand around the back of the girls legs, tracing underneath the hemline of the skirt. The girl still didn’t respond to Ange’s questions, merely gasping delightedly and giggling some more each time she was touched.

Ange took a step back and looked at the dishevelled babe in front of her, swallowing hard. This time her hesitation didn’t even last a second. “Bend over the fucking desk.” She rasped. Instantly the girl did as she was told, confirming that, as Ange suspected, she was going commando. She wiggled her hips invintingly, and Ange dove in with reckless abandon.

Ange leaned lazily on the cabinet with her coffee, enjoying another break chatting with Steve. He was telling her about the intern he had nailed in a supply closet just the other day. Ange grinned eagerly. She had seen the bitch in question and was delighted to hear that her body was just as tight and taut as it seemed under her clothes. They broke momentarily from their conversation to watch a group of three giggling girls strut through the room. At this point the whores in the office weren’t dressing much differently from the strippers at the club, and Ange definately wasn’t complaining.

“You gonna take one of those?” Steve smirked.

“Why just one?” Ange laughed back. She’d already had her morning Nikki quickie, but why settle for that? Having the same girl every day was dull, and variety was certainly the spice of life, she mused as she regarded the swaying booties. There was a moment of comradely silence before Ange sighed out loud suddenly. “Why can’t girls everywhere be like they are in this office?” She complained, thinking of her homelife with Em, who she was sure was on the verge of telling her to pack her suitcases and get out.

Steve turned to her, assessing her for a moment. She was ready, he decided. “Well, to be honest, we have a certain way of making girls do what we want around here.” Ange cocked her head at him, bemused, wondering what he could possibly mean but allowing him to continue. “It’s not what most people would consider ethical, but if you’re interested...” He let the invitation trail off. Ange stopped for a moment to consider. Through the door window she saw two girls in cheerleader outfits wrapping their arms around eachother and pressing their tits together while a smiling guy snapped photographs with his phone. It didn’t take her long to answer.

“I think I’m very interested.”

3 months later.

Ange clamped her thighs around the head of the naked bitch who was servicing her, but her eyes were on the two other bimbos performing in front of her in sexy schoolgirl outfits, kissing passionately and moaning deeply as they writhed sensuously against eachother. She reached out from the comfort of her office char, casually groping and spanking one of their asses. “Yeah that’s right girls, put on a good enough show and maybe I’ll do you a favour and make those pussies sing for me.” The sluts redoubled their efforts, moaning louder, the promise of being used by their boss sending ripples right through them.

Ange’s phone buzzed on her desk. A text from Emmy. Ange opened it, smiling as she saw the attached photograph. The girl was on her knees, wearing nothing but her ‘slut’ collar and lookingly pleadingly up at the camera. Her eyes were wide and her tongue poked out playfully between her painted red lips. The caption read ‘waiting 4 u <3’. Emmy’s anger and upset at her partner had melted away entirely, replaced by unconditional worship and desire. Ange had gotten her watching the videos by disguising the first one as a sappy apology video. Emmy, still holding out hope that the woman she’d loved would return, had opened it and from there she was hooked. Within weeks she was eating right out of Ange’s hand.

Ange fired off her response quickly, “gd girl ;)", and then dropped the phone back down with a clatter, gasping and turning her attention to the sweet little pussy-licker who was bringing her closer to orgasm. “That’s it, there’s a good slut, good slut, good slut...” She stroked the girl’s head and watched her shudder. The cute empty-headed thing was programmed to respond to that particular bit of praise with a throb of intense physical pleasure each time it was spoken. Ange threw her head back and gave herself over completely to the sensation. She knew fervently that this was the life for her. In her last thought before orgasm she ran over the list of friends and acquaintances she could bring into her own personal harem.

“You’ll take them. You’ll take them all. Because you can.”