The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I like the skirt.”

Madison didn’t know what to say. It sounded like a compliment. An innocent compliment. But there had to be something behind it. Despite how neutral Ethan’s voice sounded, it couldn’t just be an innocent compliment.

Not with what Ethan would be thinking along with it. What he had to be thinking.

What she was thinking.

That it was going to be so easy for him to flip that skirt up. How she wouldn’t have to take the time to shimmy out of her jeans.

When he… When he fucked her arse.

I love having my arse fucked. Ethan can fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.

The thoughts were natural, automatic. Almost unnoticed.

Part of her.

She’d worn a skirt today. It wasn’t that short, the hem just a few inches above her knees. She’d gripped the fabric, so tightly, hesitating as she stood in front of her wardrobe, standing there in just her underwear. She never wore skirts to university. She’d known what it would mean to wear one. No-one else would. Well, Ethan would.

Ethan can fuck my arse whenever he wants.

She’d stood there so long, uncertain, looking at herself in the mirror. Not sure she could do this. Not sure she wanted to do this. Dress so it was easier for her arse to be fucked.

But she felt so empty. So cold and small. She was barely hanging on, her stomach balled up inside her and something gnawing at her nerves.

Madison had looked at her image in the mirror again. At the image of a girl who loved having her arse fucked. She was so wet, her thighs trembling and something in her aching. She knew what she wanted. Even though she was still watching the porn every night, using the dildo on herself, it wasn’t the same. The dildo didn’t fill her like Ethan did.

She’d put the skirt on.

And now she was here, at university, at her desk. Wearing the skirt.

God, why am I doing this? Dressing, just so some guy could fuck her arse? It wasn’t right. It was almost like.

The thought died.

She needed her arse fucked. She could barely concentrate. She was lucky if she’d written ten words. Couldn’t Ethan just…? Madison thought about asking him. All she had to so was form the words.

She cringed away from the thought. It was too embarrassing. She couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted it. No matter how much she needed it. Everything was too much, she was all tied up inside. From the embarrassment at the thought of asking him. From the need radiating through her, riding over everything. She was going to fall into a million pieces

Please, the thought aimed in Ethan’s direction.

Her heart leapt as he looked back at her. All he had to do was turn his head, look at the meeting room door. Just one glance and she’d be out of her chair and running for the room. She’d bend over the table. No waiting while she took her jeans off. She’d be offering her arse up. She’d even worn heels. Not too high. Just two and a half inches. But bent over the table they should present her arse to him in just the right way. She could almost taste it, his cock sinking into her, filling her…

No!

Madison’s heart sank as Ethan rose from his chair, his gaze nowhere near the meeting room door as he sauntered over to her cubicle.

“I like your skirt,” Ethan repeated, his smile almost a grin.

“Uh, thanks?” Madison really didn’t know how to deal with the compliment. There were so many words unsaid between them. God, please, just look at the door. Please.

She was so empty. She was sure her hands were trembling. Especially her right hand. He had to be able to see it. She thrust it under herself, out of the way. Under her arse. She was touching her arse. She needed-

“One more thing I thought of,” Ethan began.

No! Madison thought was wail in her mind. Can’t this wait? Until we… She couldn’t think the words, but the images filled her mind, anticipation filling her. How good it would be when took her.

God, what am I thinking?

She knew what Ethan wanted. He wanted to talk about his thesis. Actual work. And all she wanted was for him to fuck her arse. Guilt compounded her misery. She was just using him to get what she wanted.

What sort of a person was she?

Determinedly, she pulled her hand out from under her. “Uh, yes?”

“Well, if someone is trying to instil behaviour, there might be other, competing, behaviour they want to suppress. Um, like, if they wanted to make someone spend money, they might want to stop them saving money. What sort of things should someone look out for there?”

Madison made herself concentrate on his words. Anything thing to stop the empty, sinking feelings. The desperate need.

“That sounds like simple behaviour modification. They’d probably use any of the techniques from behavioural therapy that are normally employed for unwanted behaviour.” Madison wasn’t sure how calm she sounded. Would Ethan notice? Her hands were gripping each other. In her lap. Over her skirt. The skirt she’d worn because…

“Like?” Ethan prompted.

You should know this, Madison thought, resentfully. Why are you asking this when you could be—. She stopped herself. Ethan would know this. Any undergrad would, let alone a PhD student. He was probably just checking.

“Well, some sort of aversion or association therapy. So if someone fond themselves being made to associate negative stimuli with normal activity, that would be something to watch for.”

“Negative stimuli,” Ethan nodded. “Got it.”

Then he looked at her. And looked at the door of the meeting room.

Madison didn’t wait for any other sign, bolting out of her chair.

Then froze when she found herself in the room.

“I, uh,” she stammered as Ethan closed the door behind him.

“Like I said,” he smiled, a hand finding its way to the back of her thigh, his touch electric on her bare skin. “I like the skirt.”

His fingers were drifting higher, a moan escaping the girl’s throat.

“Maybe one a bit shorter would make things easier.”

She could do that. She had shorter skirts. But could she? Dress the way he told her to?

His hand had almost reached her arse, sparks exploding in front of Madison’s eyes. A shorter skirt? She could do that.

I love having my arse fucked.

She’d do anything for it.

Madison moaned again as Ethan’s hand slid over her panty-clad buttock. She didn’t resist, didn’t object as he spun her around, pushed her toward the desk, the edge of it butting up against her thighs. She knew what to do. What she had to do.

What she needed to do.

Madison leant forward, until her chin touched the desk, until her breasts were pushing into its hard surface, her nipples just as hard.

A tremor ran through her body as Ethan’s hands ran up over her arse cheeks, over her back until they ended on her shoulders. “Do you want this?’ His voice was just a whisper, his lips had to be so close to her ear. She could hardly, breathe, hardly think.

Why was he asking? He’d never asked before. It didn’t matter, the answer was obvious.

“Yes,” Madison moaned. “God, yes.”

“How much do you want this?” Ethan’s voice was a knife, cutting through her. Or something hot, burning her away. Like her need burnt her. “Are you wet for it? Let’s see?”

Madison heard, more than felt, her panties being pulled down, something ripping.

Then his fingers were dancing over her labia, Madison gripping the far edge of the table, her knuckles turning white.

“God, you’re wet.” Even without looking around she could hear the grin in his voice. “So wet. Maybe I don’t need any lube. Maybe I can just use your pussy for that.”

Madison knew she should say something. Knew that she should object to the way he was talking to her. But she couldn’t. She needed him in her. Needed him in her arse.

“You want your arse fucked that bad?” Ethan asked, echoing her thoughts. His fingers played at her clit now, teasing her “Well.”

His fingers drifted back, traced the line of her opening, maddeningly slow, Madison’s body trembling, as his fingers brushed over her perineum before circling her rosebud.

“God, yes. Please! Fuck me! Fuck my arse!”

“So that’s what you want?’ Ethan teased, his fingers continuing that tortuous circling. “Just your arse? Not your pussy?” His fingers disappeared from her rear.

Was he making her choose? Did she have to choose? If she did, it was so easy.

“Just my arse!” she cried desperately. “Please, fuck my arse!”

I love having my arse fucked.

She needed it. She needed it so much. She was going to die if he didn’t fuck her arse. It was the only thing that mattered, the only thing she cared about. She didn’t care what he said, or what he wanted to do. She’d crawl to him if that was what it took. She’d do anything. Abase herself, humiliate herself.

If he’d just fuck her arse.

Stars appeared in front of Madison’s eyes, her body singing, as the head of Ethan’s cock pressed against her rear opening, bliss flooding her as that cock forced its way into her anus.

“Yes,” she cried, feeling his length impaling her, revelling in the sensation. “God yes! Fuck me! Fuck my arse!” This was what she needed. What she’d been dying for. The rapture as he slowly pulled out. The electric bliss as he thrust back in. Her body responding, nipples taut, muscles in her thighs clenching, clit on fire, breaths coming in gasps, the pleasure building and building, irresistible, intoxicating, Ethan so deep in her. God, she wanted him deeper, she didn’t care if he split her apart. This was what she needed. This was what she lived for.

Madison cried out, an animal noise, all thoughts dissolving, as she came.

It wasn’t the last time.

“Drop for me Madison,”

Ethan grinned at the girl. God, she looked so good, lying there, her skirt flipped up around her waist, the ruins of her torn panties around one ankle, his cock still buried in her arse. He almost wondered if he’d needed to drop her. She’d looked over her shoulder at him, that last time, just before she came. All he could see in those pretty eyes was need and lust and abandon. He wasn’t sure she had one coherent thought beyond her wanting him in her arse.

Don’t get over-confident, he told himself. He was too close to let himself slip up.

The girl was barely moving, little moans escaping her lips, her eyes half closed as she lay there, head turned to the side.

“Madison,” he said. “What do you think about having your arse fucked?”

“Love having my arse fucked,” the girl murmured, the words barely audible as her back arched, offering that wonderful arse up to him. “Ethan can fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.”

“Good girl.” Ethan made sure his voice was reassuring, just the right tone to sink into that open mind. “That’s right. Think those thoughts. Just those thoughts.”

Lightly he stroked her back, his hands following the shape of her shoulder blades, the curve of her spine, following it down to the small of her back. Gentle touches, as the girl murmured her instructions.

“Love having my arse fucked. Ethan can fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.”

“That’s right.” More soft gentle strokes. “Remember that. Know that. You cum so hard from having your arse fucked. Now, deep down, in your subconscious, what do you know about how you feel about having your arse fucked?”

“Addicted,” Madison gasped. “I’m addicted to Ethan fucking my arse. I’ll do anything to have Ethan fuck my arse.”

“Good girl,” he replied soothingly. “That’s right. Deep down you know that. So if you loving having your arse fucked, if you’re addicted to having your arse fucked, then it must be better to have your arse fucked than your pussy. Getting fucked in the arse is so much better than getting fucked in the pussy. Tell me that. Believe it.”

“M’kay,” the girl muttered. “Better to be fucked in the arse. Getting fucked in the arse is so much better than getting fucked in the pussy.”

“Such a good girl,” he crooned, fingertips playing at the small of her back. “Knowing my voice tells you the truth. Believing it. I want you to repeat it over and over. Let it sink in. become part of you. You’re addicted to having your arse fucked. It’s better to be fucked in your arse than your pussy.”

“Mmm, yeah,” the girl sighed, giving her arse a wiggle that almost had Ethan losing his train of thought. “I’m addicted to having my arse fucked. Better to be fucked in the arse. Getting fucked in my arse is so much better than getting fucked in my pussy.”

Ethan’s fingers trailed over her body, caressing the sides of her breasts, stroking her arse, as she repeated the words over and over again.

“Madison, listen to me. Think back. Did you always like getting fucked in the arse?”

“Uh, no?” the girl replied, a slight frown on her face.

Got to be careful here, don’t want to undo everything. He didn’t think there really was much chance of that happening, not now, the girl so deep, but better safe than sorry. “That’s right, but you do now. You love it.”

“S’right,” the words just barely escaping her lips. “Love getting fucked in the arse. Addicted to it. Cum from getting fucked in the arse.”

“Good girl. Remember that. Know that. But I want you to remember what you thought about it before. Think back, say, a year ago. What did you think about it then?”

Madison’s frown deepened, just a fraction, but enough to prompt Ethan. “You still love getting fucked in the arse. But you can remember what you used to think. Tell me.”

“Didn’t like it. Dirty. Turned me off.”

“Good girl. Tell me more. Think about how it felt. How you felt.”

“Didn’t want it. Bad.” Her face was scrunching up, her cute nose twitching. “Not what I wanted. Felt off. Wrong. Felt ill.” Her voice rose, a sound almost of panic in it.

“Shush, it’s okay,” Ethan whispered. “They’re just thoughts. Old thoughts. Old feelings. You love getting your arse fucked. It’s such a turn on. Madison, I want you to take all those old thoughts and feelings and put them in a box. They stop you enjoying what you love. You want to be rid of them. All of them, packed away in a box. They’re not how you think or feel about having your arse fucked now.”

“M’kay,” the girl smiled. “Love having my arse fucked. Please, fuck my arse.”

“Soon, soon,” he reassured her. “Are all those thoughts in a box?”

“Yes,” the girl sighed, almost as if she was relieved. “In a box.”

“So good to be rid to be rid of those thoughts. They were never what you thought about being fucked in the arse. But that box is still there. Now, I want you to think about having a cock in your pussy. About having anything in your pussy. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” the girl sighed again, her hips gently rotating.

“Now open the box. Think those thoughts. They’re what you think about having something in your pussy. What you feel.”

Madison tensed up beneath him. “What? I, I.”

“Shush,” Ethan breathed, his lips so close to her ear. “Thinking about something in your pussy. A cock, your fingers, a dildo, anything, Thinking those thoughts. Feeling those sensations. What are they?”

“D-don’t like it.” Her nose scrunched up again, an expression of distaste written plainly on her pretty features but there was a quiver to the girl’s voice, a hesitation. Nothing a few repetitions wouldn’t overcome. “Dirty. Wrong. Feel ill. Turns me off.”

“That’s right,” Ethan replied, allowing himself a deep breath. “Those are your thoughts. They’re true. They go with having something in your pussy. Whenever you think about having something in your pussy, whenever you have something in your pussy, that’s what you’ll think, that’s what you’ll feel. You’ll open that box and think those thoughts. Feel them. They’ll be true. What do you think about having something in your pussy?”

Madison hesitated, her eyelids blinked. Once, twice. The tip of her tongue flicked at her upper lip. “So deep. Just the thoughts in your head that I tell you are there. You believe my voice. You trust my voice. The thoughts, the feelings, from the box. They’re yours. All yours. And they’re your thoughts when you think about something in your pussy. Madison, tell me what you think about having something in your pussy?”

“Don’t like it. Dirty. Feel ill. Turns me off.” No hesitations but Ethan was under no illusions that he could overcome her natural inclinations that easily. Biology, her whole life, were all against him. But he girl’s mind was so open, defenceless and he could put her under as many times as he needed to. Have her repeat and repeat the instructions until they were part of her.

Until they felt natural to her, as much a part of her as breathing.

“Good girl,” Ethan said, forcing calm into his voice. “Your thoughts. Believing them. Knowing them to be true. You can feel the association. What will you feel if there’s a cock in your pussy?”

“Turned off. Dirty. Feel ill. Don’t like it.”

“Good girl. So good.” He couldn’t help smiling now. She was so close. “What will you feel if there are fingers in your pussy?”

“Turned off,” the girl repeated. “Dirty. Feel ill. Don’t like it.”

“And what if they’re your fingers?

She almost hesitated then. Almost. But she didn’t. “Turned off. Dirty. Feel ill. Don’t like it.”

“What will you feel if there’s anything in your pussy?”

No hesitation. But she was so deep now, why would there be? “Turned off. Dirty. Feel ill. Don’t like it.”

“But you like this, don’t you?” Ethan grinned, his cock claiming her arse again.

“God, yes,” the girl moaned. “Love having my arse fucked. Addicted to having my arse fucked. Cum from having my arse fucked.”

“I’m going to give you some more thoughts. They’ll be your thoughts. You’ll believe them. You won’t think it odd or unusual that you don’t want to be fucked in the pussy. It’s okay. It’s just how you are. You’ll ignore any thoughts about it being strange. Any thoughts like that will just disappear, like you never had them. So tell me, do you want to have a cock in your pussy?”

“No,” the girl replied, shaking her head. “Dirty. Don’t like it. Wrong. Makes me feel ill.”

“Good girl,” he crooned. “That’s right. And is there anything unusual about you feeling like that?”

The girl’s eyes were almost rolling back in her head, her voice so empty. “Nah, s’okay. Just me.”

“Your thoughts. So true. Let’s go over it all again.”

He wasn’t going to take her through it just once.

“Please don’t,” Madison muttered, Ethan’s cock poised at her pussy, nudging her labia aside. He hadn’t tried claiming her pussy for days. She hadn’t minded. Hadn’t thought about it if truth be told. He’d stroked her labia, fingered her clit. She liked that. Not as much as having her arse fucked, but it was a nice way to build anticipation. But for the last few days his cock had been aimed solely at her arse.

I love having my arse fucked. I cum from having my arse fucked.

The voice was so certain. Her voice. Only telling her the truth.

Ethan’s cock was still poised at the entrance to her pussy. She quivered, almost like a bucket of cold water was being poured over her, at the thought of it inside her pussy, her stomach turning queasy.

Dirty, the voice told her. I don’t like it. That certain, unhesitating, voice only told her the truth. And the way she was feeling. God, she didn’t want it there, her stomach roiling with nausea. She wanted that cock in her arse. Needed it. But wasn’t that weird? Wanting it in her arse was one thing. But not wanting it in, well, her, her vagina. That was normal sex. Shouldn’t she—?

Another shudder ran through her. Madison couldn’t remember what she’d been thinking. Oh. Of course. Not in her pussy. Never. It was just wrong. If she was being honest the whole idea of having something in her pussy made her feel ill. What? That’s—. Thoughts sputtered and died. How she felt was just her. Noting strange, just her own desires. Her choice.

Nothing for her to worry about.

“Not there,” she said. God, no, what a turn off. Why would she want a cock in her pussy when she could have it in her arse?

Maybe she should feel guilty. Just because all she wanted was anal sex. Hang on. I—. Another thought died. Of course that was all she wanted. But using Ethan to get it? When he seemed to want something else?

I love having my arse fucked. I cum from having my arse fucked.

It wasn’t like he was protesting. He seemed as eager to fuck her arse as she was to have it fucked.

I love having my arse fucked. I cum from having my arse fucked.

And Oh, God, she needed it. She needed it so bad. Needed it like breathing. She was burning up, her body crying out. Without it she was cold and empty and worthless and everything was wrong and… She was going to die if he didn’t just fuck! her! arse!

She’d do anything for it.

Anything.

To be Continued