The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ben

“Good morning, Mistress.” Ben came into the bedroom with Madame Sasha’s breakfast on a tray. His goddess was already sitting at her desk, typing something on her laptop. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, she was wearing her thick, red, square-rimmed glasses, she had Ben’s sweatshirt on that covered her lacey green panties.

“Good morning, malen’kiy.” Ben placed the tray down next to her and moved to kiss her on the cheek. She turned and kissed him lightly, then turned back to her laptop and reached for her cup of coffee.

“Need anything else?”

“No. I’ll text you when I need the car.”

“Yes, Mistress. Love you.”

She smirked. “Love you too.”

Ben darted out of the room and went downstairs to clean the kitchen. He had to hurry to get back to work. He had a new boss who was getting suspicious of Ben disappearing several times a day. Ben’s mother could only be “sick” so many times before people got frustrated.

When he was done, he drove across the neighborhood and swung by the house to grab something to eat before he went back. Sasha living down the street was such a little change, yet it changed everything. He walked through the front door and noticed a dozen things he would have to clean up or attend to before he went to bed that night. Sasha thought Betsy’s time would be better spent maintaining her online relationships, and Ben didn’t disagree. He never disagreed. He’d never seen his wife happier, and if that meant he had to maintain a job and act as a maid to two homes, to two mistresses, he would do it. He was finding ways to cope with less sleep. He was making it work.

Ben heard moaning from the upstairs as he went into the kitchen, and he wondered if Betsy was masturbating or doing another cam show. He didn’t care either way, but if she was performing right now, he wasn’t going to get a kiss goodbye before he left.

He made a sandwich in the kitchen and ran upstairs, peeking into what used to be his office. There, Betsy was leaning back in the chair, talking to a middle-aged blonde woman on her webcam. Both of them were naked, their chests heaving, though the stranger was idly circling her clit.

Betsy looked up at the sound of Ben’s footprints and caught a glimpse of him peeking. “Hey you,” she said, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Bad time?” asked Ben.

“Not at all.”

“May I come in?”

“Absolutely.”

Ben crossed and kissed his wife gently. She purred, grabbed his tie, and pulled him in, parting her lips and sighing as he pressed back against her. Slowly they parted, but placed their foreheads gently together, looking into each other’s eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you more.”

She smiled and turned her gaze, remembered their guest watching them on the webcam. “Oh! Right. Sorry. Kimberly, this is my husband, Ben.”

“You have a husband?”

“He doesn’t mind, pet. Neither should you.”

“I don’t like to compete.”

Sasha looked up at Ben. “You mind?”

“Not at all.” Ben smiled. He was so busy lately, even the smallest moment with Betsy was one of the best parts of his day. He did so much for these two women, the two loves of his life. Any moment with them, no matter how awkward or short, was a moment in heaven.

Without ceremony, Betsy unbuckled Ben’s belt, unbuttoned his pants, unzipped the fly, and pulled down the boxers and pants in one swift tug, leaving them wrapped around Ben’s thigh. Ben turned, showing Kimberly the bright metal cage that Madame Sasha and Betsy kept him in, making sure the camera got a good glimpse of it.

“See?” said Betsy. “Harmless.”

“He’s your sub?”

“I can have as many subs as I like,” said Betsy. “Ben’s not jealous of you, so don’t be such a cunt. I’ll call you later.” Betsy leaned forward and shut off the webcam. The screen went dark, and she shook her head as she turned and adjusted Ben’s pants, fixing them. When she was done, she bent forward and kissed Ben’s stomach.

“Busy day?” she asked.

“Aren’t they all?”

“Mistress is coming over tonight, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

Betsy looked up and beamed at Ben. He smiled down at her. When was the last time things were like this? While they were dating? No. Things weren’t that good even then. They’d never been more themselves and more in love with who the other person was becoming.

“Alright,” said Betsy, patting Ben’s thigh. “I gotta take a shower.”

“Any more shows today?”

“No. Just one project.”

“Care to share?”

Betsy stood, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed Ben. He kissed her back, and both let their hands roam over the other, enjoying the feeling. Ben wished he could do more. He wished he had the time to carry Betsy back to their bed and make love to her.

Finally, Betsy broke away and whispered in Ben’s ear. “Yeah,” she said. “Today I’m going to try and fuck the neighbor.”

Betsy

Esther had become Betsy’s project. Though their first encounter had been embarrassing, a few weeks later Betsy came to a beautiful conclusion: nothing happened. Esther hadn’t called the police. She didn’t spread gossip about it. She didn’t report it to her husband. As far as Betsy could tell—and she’d asked around as much as she could—Esther had simply kept the whole thing to herself. That meant one of two things: shame or interest.

Betsy could work with either.

Shame always turned into interesting lusts and taboo. That may be the slower route, but once she sucked Esther in, if Esther was properly ashamed of what they were doing, she’d have the older woman for life. Esther’s shame would enslave her to Betsy, and she could finally stop waiting for Sasha to grace them with her presence or get by with cam shows. She needed flesh, real flesh, and Esther was close, so tasty looking.

Betsy didn’t need to spend her days watching porn anymore, she had her webcam business for that. She had as many mistresses as she did sluts and got as many performances as she gave. But she wanted contact. Nothing could compare to Sasha, but she wasn’t expecting the Sasha experience each time. One didn’t want steak each night. Sometimes you wanted comfort food.

Esther was comfort food.

Betsy put on her most sensible outfit. She went a bit bohemian, which hinted at skin and form but covered everything in layers of drapery. She put her hair up in a tactically messy ponytail and kept her makeup muted but effective. She went for the good girl look — like she just stepped out of a hipster paradise and onto Esther’s porch. She wasn’t bitchy-rich or trashy-slut. Sensible but tame. Beautiful but not sexual. She could walk that line.

She rang the doorbell and in a moment, Esther opened the door. Betsy watched as Esther’s smile died on her lips. She read her neighbor’s face as best she could. Shame or disgust? Rage or confusion? Regret? What was she hiding? What did she want?

“Esther!” she said and went in for a hug and kiss on the cheek. Esther coldly accepted it.

“Betsy …”

Esther did not kiss her cheek in return.

“What brings you by?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” said Betsy. She forced a fake laugh, and Esther chuckled painfully.

“Funny.”

“I just wanted to stop by and talk real quick. May I come in?”

Esther blocked the doorway. “You could have called.”

“Right.” Betsy smoothed out her messy ponytail. Esther didn’t want friendly. She didn’t trust it. Very well, she could be contrite. She looked down, put her hands together, fiddling with them nervously.

“I just wanted to talk in person. You see …” Deep breath. Exaggerated sigh. “I wanted to apologize about last time.” She glanced up, reading Esther’s face again. Regret? Shame? Lust?

“What about it?”

Ah, so feigning ignorance. That’s one route. Betsy cast her eyes down again. “You know …” She kicked her feet a bit. She may be overselling it, but Esther was ice. “What you saw when you stepped out of the shower …”

“Don’t worry about it.” Esther stepped back and gripped the side of the door, ready to close it. “Is that all?”

“You sure?” asked Betsy. “I feel awful about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Listen, I have an appointment in a little bit. I have to get going.”

“Oh, sure,” said Betsy. She bit her lip. Did she care what the neighborhood thought of her? Surely Ben didn’t. Neither did Madame Sasha. She was practically whoring Betsy out. Fortune favors the bold.

“I was just thinking,” said Betsy. “That it was too bad you had to go.”

Esther’s body tightened. She didn’t slam the door. She didn’t tell her to go away. She waited. Was that interest? Maybe. Maybe that was something to build on.

“Maybe next time …” said Betsy. “Maybe next time you could join me?”

Esther’s eyes widened and her pupils dilated. Her chest heaved a bit. Lust. Definite lust.

“If it helps,” added Betsy, her smile widening. “We could start the same way. Though maybe this time I could join you in the shower.”

Esther didn’t move. Betsy smiled wider and took a step closer. “After all,” she said. “I’m a very dirty girl.”

“I … uh … I … need to go.” Esther closed the door, and Betsy took a step back. She held back her laughter until she was safely in her own house. She was luckier than she’d imagined. Esther had a bit of slut in her. That was all Betsy needed.

Betsy watched from her window as within an hour or so, Esther left her house for whatever appointment she had. The next part of the plan was delicate. Betsy wasn’t a criminal. She wasn’t an expert in breaking and entering, but since meeting Madame Sasha, she’d found that she was capable of much more than she believed.

Betsy spent the next half hour finding a way into Esther’s house. There was a kitchen window that was unlocked. If any of her neighbors asked, she could say that Esther had asked her to feed her cat and forgotten to give Betsy the key. It wasn’t great, but if anyone asked Esther about Betsy, she was certain the older woman would clam up and go with whatever lie Betsy presented.

She made sure there was no alarm system, and once she was satisfied that she was safely in Esther’s house and could get there whenever she wanted, she had to do the heavy work of replacing their tech. Ben had told her all about the modifications he did to their televisions and laptops so Madame Sasha could watch them and influence them with subliminal messaging. She knew about the custom movies layered with reprogramming. She’d be working blind, but she knew it worked on her. Why not Esther? Besides, Betsy had been a shriveled prude before the Blue Viper Files. Esther was obviously a sex bomb about to explode. It should take only a tiny bit of exposure to the files to tip her over the edge.

Betsy set up cameras first. The most important one watched the garage so she could know if or when Esther came back. Then she set them up in any private area she could find, hoping to catch Esther in a moment of sexual abandon. She modified the televisions as best she could, though she wasn’t confident.

Her biggest hope was Esther’s laptop. Well, technically, she wasn’t sure who the laptop belonged to, but it’s not like Madame Sasha wouldn’t mind Esther’s husband or daughter joining her harem. The laptop was set up to make the Blue Viper Files the home page of every browser, and to modify the desktop with images of Sinja and Madame Sasha. Audio files would play a gentle subliminal, but all of it was designed to send people to Madame Sasha’s site, to build curiosity until lust got the better of wisdom and Esther’s family went too far for their own good.

Satisfied with her acts of sabotage, she went back to her house and set up her command center. She’d bought more monitors to keep track of different subs or stay in contact with her benefactors. She took off her clothes and sorted through all the contact information she stole while waiting for Esther to return. She needed passwords, and hopefully, the cameras would tell her more. There was a safe in the master bedroom, and now there was a camera pointed right at the combination. With any luck, she could get enough information to simply blackmail Esther into fucking her.

Betsy laughed at the thought. Sometimes her transformation amazed her. Who could believe that in six short months, she’d be a predator of almost Madame Sasha quality with a cucked husband? Before that, she could barely stand to touch herself, and definitely couldn’t stand Ben touching her. The very thought of sex stressed her out and made her dry. And here she was -

Esther was home.

Apparently the older woman had gone to the gym to try to work out some of her sexual frustration. Poor thing. She was in a highlighter yellow sports bra with a pair of black yoga pants that had pink lace detailing along the side. Goddess bless yoga pants. Betsy had more help than ever imagining what Esther looked like naked. The workout outfit did more to help her imagination than discovering Esther naked but for a towel on her front porch.

Betsy licked her lips. With any luck, Esther would head straight to the shower. Betsy had two cameras there. She decided she didn’t need cameras all over the house as Ben had done to their home. She just wanted lots of cameras wherever she thought Esther would be touching herself or watching the Blue Viper Files.

But Esther didn’t head for a shower. After draining a bottle of spring water, Esther went to her laptop and opened it up. Maybe she was looking for porn. Maybe the workout hadn’t extinguished her lust. Maybe it only stoked the flame.

Betsy moved to the edge of her seat, changing the cameras so she could see whatever was on Esther’s screen. The woman was frozen, looking at the homepage of the Blue Viper Files. She didn’t click out in disgust. She didn’t slam the laptop shut and run away. She sat, frozen, leaning forward, looking at the half-naked body of Madame Sasha while Sinja slithered over the screen. Betsy licked her lips as Esther’s hand moved the cursor to start the first file.

Betsy didn’t want to fall under trance herself, so she switched the camera’s point of view. She now saw Esther from the front, a dazed expression on her face as she sat, her hand still on the mouse, watching Madame Sasha. She wasn’t in trance yet. Betsy had seen Ben go under, and Esther didn’t have any of the tell-tale signs. Her jaw was tight. Her eye movement was rapid. She was still watching, still trying to make up her mind about what she wanted to do. Would she stay or would she go? The gym didn’t work. Ignoring Betsy didn’t work. There was no way to escape how curious she was, how hungry she was. If it won’t go away, she had to give in, right? The only way out was through.

Betsy sighed with relief as Esther’s body softened, as her eyes stilled, as her hand moved away from the computer. Esther relaxed, completely entranced with the video. Betsy saw the light of the video flicker as Sinja slithered over the screen. She tried to imagine the ecstasy Esther would know soon. She almost envied the woman. She’d never be able to relive her first time falling under Madame Sasha’s control.

Esther sat back and one hand slipped under the band of her yoga pants. Betsy squealed with delight and mimicked the gesture, gently teasing herself as Esther gave into her lusts, as Esther fell in love with Madame Sasha, the love of Betsy’s life. Soon they could both serve her together. Soon she would be knocking on Betsy’s door, begging to give herself over, to devote her life to Madame Sasha and no one else. Soon she’d be just like Betsy.

Betsy came before Esther did. The moment was too good, too sweet. She’d built up to it for hours, for days. But Esther didn’t take too much longer. The older woman orgasmed and sat still for a long time. Betsy wondered if she’d finally take a shower, if she felt filthy and disgusting, if she wanted to wash away all the sweat and shame. Instead, Esther grabbed her laptop, fingers still slick, and opened up another file.

“Oh yes,” whispered Betsy. “Come to me, pet.”

Ben

“How was work today, malen’kiy?”

“Good,” said Ben. He worked to unlace the complicated corset on Madame Sasha as she stood, statuesque and patient.

“Just good?”

“Busy.”

“My poor boy,” said Madame Sasha.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” Ben finished and gingerly pulled the corset away. Madame Sasha sighed gently with relief as Ben went to work on her skirt.

“I do worry about it. Remember my commands?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

“You must keep this job, yes. But more than that, you must be in good standing with your boss. What is his name now?”

“Her,” said Ben. “Lindsey Sterling is the new District Attorney.”

Madame Sasha shrugged. “This is better.” She stepped out of her skirt, and Ben moved without prompting to her garter.

“I’m trying to maintain a good standing,” said Ben. “I just have a lot to get done.”

“Your job is very important.”

“I know, Mistress.” Ben sighed. “Lots of things are important. Almost too much.”

Ben tried to roll down her stocking, but Sasha stopped him, grabbing his hand. “Do you need me to ask less of you?”

The question stung. “No, Mistress. I can handle it.”

“Clearly you are not handling it.”

“Well, if I’m being honest …”

“Always be honest with your Mistress.”

“I’d rather quit my job. I want to focus on you and Betsy. That’s it. Let me be your servant, your maid, your assistant. Whatever you want. I’d rather be by your side.”

“Or Betsy’s?”

“Yes. Please.”

“No,” said Madame Sasha. “Continue.”

Ben went back to work and fell silent. He tried to keep it up, juggling his life between three women, but he couldn’t keep it up. Lindsey and Sasha were relentlessly demanding, but it was Betsy he wanted to be with. She was his wife, and he did all of this for her, after all.

“I need you to become indispensable to this Lindsey Sterling,” said Madame Sasha. “Can you do that for me?”

“I will do my best.”

“Until then, you will no longer be needed to attend to me.”

“What?!” Ben stood up, but Madame Sasha turned quickly. She glared at him, her nostrils flaring, and Ben froze. He’d never seen her look like that before, and in a moment, his anger receded as fear gripped him. He knew what she’d done to his life. He could barely imagine what she could do to him if he displeased her. She could rewrite his brain. Just a touch of her tattoo and he’d pass out in front of her. With that much power, she could make him less than a man, less than a person. She could take everything he loved and give him nothing but pain in return.

“Do we have a problem, malen’kiy?”

Ben’s fist shook, but he looked down, breaking eye contact. “No, Mistress.”

“Good. You may proceed.”

Ben nodded and got down on his knees as he finished undressing his Mistress.

Betsy opened the door to Madame Sasha’s bedroom and unceremoniously undressed. Ben looked at her and smiled. The sight of her always warmed his heart, even if Madame Sasha had just threatened him. Her hair was in a ponytail, and while her loose skirt and blouse quickly fell off her body, he enjoyed it when she dressed a bit Bohemian. It made her look like a sexy librarian or the kind of schoolteacher that asked you to stay after class for extra “tutoring.” She slid out of her lingerie as well, quickly leaving nothing but the red and lacy “Love” tattoo over her right breast, a treat from Madame Sasha.

“Betsy,” said Madame Sasha, “you will be in charge of attending to me from now on.”

“What?”

“Come,” snapped Madame Sasha. Betsy crossed in front of her Mistress quickly, clearly as upset about the news as Ben was. Madame Sasha slapped Ben’s wife quickly, letting the sound of it fill the room. The three of them stood, frozen in tableau, as they watched to see Betsy’s reaction. Slowly, her head moved back to center and held Madame Sasha’s gaze.

“You two have been much use to me,” said Madame Sasha. “But stop being useful, and do not be surprised if you lose me. Become a burden, and do not be surprised if I discard you. Become a pain, and I will not hesitate to remove you.”

Madame Sasha stepped closer and whispered something in Betsy’s ear. Ben only caught the name “Esther,” but Betsy’s eyes widened. She nodded quickly and agreed to whatever Madame Sasha said without hesitation.

“Yes, Mistress,” she said. “Sorry, Mistress.”

“Sorry, Mistress,” muttered Ben.

“Good,” said Madame Sasha. “You both are only as useful as what you can give me. Betsy, you may entertain me, but become a brat and I’m no longer interested. Malen’kiy, I need as many private conversations with Lindsey Sterling as you can get me. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” they said at the same time.

“In the meantime, Betsy will attend me, and Ben will be a perfect employee. In a few weeks, you will both throw a party and invite Lindsey Sterling. I will be in attendance.” Madame Sasha looked at Betsy. “If you are good, you may invite Esther. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” they said in unison.

“Good. Let us begin.”

Madame Sasha stepped away from her clothing as Ben picked them up. He carefully folded or hung them and did the same for Betsy’s clothes. As he did, Betsy moved into Madame Sasha’s embrace, and the sound of the two women kissing filled the room. Ben closed the door and moved around, lighting candles and turning off lights as Betsy began to moan. His cock tried to stiffen at the sound, but it strained against his cage.

When he was done preparing the room, the two loves of his life were already on the bed. Madame Sasha was on top, slowly thrusting her hips against Betsy’s pussy. Ben moved to his stool, which Madame Sasha left in the corner, and sat to watch Madame Sasha make love to his wife.

They were both beautiful in the candlelight. Madame Sasha was a tapestry of tattoos. Words covered her body in a sleeve along her right arm, on her breasts, down her stomach, and all over her thighs. Ben watched the tattoo of Sinja on her thigh, the one that slithered up to her clit, it’s forked tongue meeting the top of her pussy. It writhed as Madame Sasha thrusted, grinding her clit up against Betsy’s.

“She’s already wet, malen’kiy,” said Madame Sasha. She liked to talk to Ben while she fucked his wife, to remind him of his place, to emphasize what he had given her. His cock throbbed and tried to expand, but the cage around it held back the blood and flesh.

Madame Sasha pulled Betsy up and kissed her. The hands of his Mistress roamed over his wife as both moaned into the kiss, letting their tongues wander. Betsy moved down, kissing Madame Sasha’s throat, and then the collarbone of her Mistress, getting closer to her breasts.

“What were you doing today?” asked Madame Sasha. “Who got you so wet?”

Ben wanted to speak, to say he knew Betsy wanted to fuck the neighbor. He knew all about Betsy’s growing appetite and her hunger, but Madame Sasha had forbidden him to speak during these sessions. He could watch, but he could not touch or speak unless she gave him explicit permission.

“She wants to fuck your neighbor,” said Madame Sasha. “But not just her. No. She wants to fuck women. All the women. Isn’t that true, kukla?”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Betsy. She gasped as she pulled away, then attached herself back to Madame Sasha’s breast. Madame Sasha moaned, her stomach rolling, her hips thrusting, as she melted under Betsy’s touch.

“You’re still in love with her?” asked Madame Sasha. “Answer me.”

“She’s the love of my life,” said Ben.

“Then put her in position for me.”

Madame Sasha got off the bed. Betsy whimpered as her goddess moved away. Ben rose from his stool and helped Betsy off the bed. Madame Sasha lay down on it, spreading her legs wide, moving her hips and pussy forward to the edge. Ben took hold of Betsy, brought her to her knees, and guided her face to hover right in front of Madame Sasha’s smooth pussy.

“Grab her hair,” commanded his Mistress, and Ben obeyed.

“Tongue out, kukla.” Betsy obeyed. “Keep it flat.” Betsy adjusted.

“Fuck me with your wife’s face,” commanded Madame Sasha.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Ben. He stood behind Betsy, her hair tight in his hands, and tugged, guiding her tongue to press against Madame Sasha’s pussy, then pulling back in Betsy’s hair, forcing her tongue to stroke the pussy. He repeated the action, guiding Betsys’ tongue, fucking Madame Sasha with his wife’s face as though her tongue were a vibrator.

“Mmm, that’s right,” said Madame Sasha. “Fuck me with your wife.” She laughed, and the sound delighted Ben and Betsy. They lived for Madame Sasha’s laughter, for those moments of pure joy when she no longer commanded them, when she was not poised and statuesque, but when she was a person, someone they could worship, yes, but someone they were in love with. The love of their marriage.

They found new vigor. Ben shook his wife’s head from side to side, and Betsy licked with passion, both of them giving into their lusts. Betsy ignored the pain on her scalp as Ben pulled. Ben ignored the humiliation of giving his wife away, of using her to please his Mistress. All that mattered was the way madame Sasha writhed on the bed, the way she gripped the sheets, the sound of her moans filling the room as her two loyal servants pleased her.

Ben’s cock strained as Betsy got more into it, moaning along with Madame Sasha. As his Mistress came, clutching her thighs and screaming, he only had eyes for Betsy. She was his world. Nothing could change that. Madame Sasha gave him a purpose under her control, but Betsy gave it meaning. Betsy gave it context.

She kept licking even after Madame Sasha came, and Ben had to pull her away as Madame Sasha whimpered for her to stop. Ben loved the look in Betsy’s eyes, the passion, the dedication, the urge to push further, to go deeper. That was his bride, the woman of his dreams. It was the woman relentlessly pursuing Esther, the woman that had a legion of online followers worshipping her, and the woman that commanded his attention and respect.

Once Sasha came, she sent Ben back to the corner. He watched as his Mistress licked his wife’s pussy, wondering out loud who else had tasted her, who else besides Ben had enjoyed his wife. Each tease caused Ben’s cock to strain against his cage, but he didn’t obsess over it. He wasn’t here to be humiliated as hot as it was. He was here for his two women, here to see his wife free and in her element.

He didn’t regret giving her to Madame Sasha, but as he watched her enjoy herself, as he knew she would spend tomorrow pining over Esther while serving his Mistress, his only regret was being denied his bride again and again.

Later that night, while Madame Sasha and Betsy snuggled, Ben was sent to get ice cream for them. He didn’t hesitate to go, thrilled at another chance to serve. But as he ordered at the ice cream shoppe, the adorable girl behind the glass counter reminded him of Betsy. She had the same smile, the same eyes, and the same laugh. When he looked at her, he saw his bride as he remembered her on their wedding day, when they dated.

As he paid, the woman behind the register looked strangely like Betsy too: the same frame, the same hair, and the same voice. He called her Betsy as he walked away, and she didn’t blink. For a moment he thought she was his wife, surprising him behind the counter for a private joke.

But that was impossible. Betsy was at the corner outside the shop, talking to a bunch of friends. She was riding by on a bike, heading towards a movie theater. She was each and every woman around him, all of them blurring together, all of them beautiful, all of them reminding him of what he had given away in service to his Mistress.